Unknown to most of my friends, I have another brother who came out in the world as stillborn. His name is Domingo. He would have been 33 or 34 if he were alive today.
This is probably one of the most unbelievable yet saddest stories that my family has. My parents (now 75 and 70) were then renting a small room somewhere in the GSIS Project 8 Village in Quezon City. My mom was having a hard time during her pregnancy as she was sick most of the time while going to work, and no one was around to take care of her because my dad was at work. Manong Joel was already going to elementary school then. Bottomline was they didn’t have much money.
My mom had a bleeding and was brought to the hospital. They had to remove the baby as they have determined that he is dead. That procedure costed them a lot more than a normal delivery, as they had to clean my mom’s uterus and such.
So my brother was dead on the morgue, with no money for funeral expenses. They have talked long and hard. Eventually, they decided to bury him on the backyard of the place they were renting then. In a shoebox. I could imagine the grief they had during that time but survival had forced them to make do with what was available.
The first time they told me that a long time ago, I had promised myself to give him a decent burial when I could afford it. Now I could, but I am having a hard time putting that to reality as my parents would not (or does not want to) remember the actual address where it all happened.