Throttled

Pangungulila is one of those words that is difficult to translate to English. Using google search, dictionary.com gave the word bereavement. But bereavement is too generic, referring to being deprived of a close relation or friend through their death. The definition does not do justice to pangungulila that comes after death.  I tried if melancholy applies but it does not need an obvious cause, so there. Desolation on the other hand is complete emptiness or destruction which does not really cut it even if there is indeed emptiness and destruction combined. Longing does not quite fit even if it refers to that strong, persistent desire or craving, especially for something unattainable or distant, i.e. a longing for home. I would not even settle for yearning which is an intense longing for something—see, pangungulila cannot be placated with an ice cream cone.

 

And then I remembered a Portuguese word, SAUDADE. It too does not readily translate to English but is defined as a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and/or loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never be had again.

 

This feeling has repeatedly overwhelmed me during the lockdown (brought about by the pandemic that the Sino leaders forbade to be referred to as the Chinese [Wuhan] Coronavirus) as the grim reaper took the lives of a teacher/Lola; a cousin; a dear friend; the 15-year-old daughter of a cousin; an erstwhile lover; a fellow correspondent; and the most overwhelming, an Aunt/favorite Godmother.

 

The specter that is mortality was busy, and I was stuck in my crib, unable to pay my last respects. The nearest was Pasig, but I could not possibly walk that far. Three were in LA, my hometown (Libacao, Aklan) and of course I could not fly or alternately swim freestyle and backstroke that great distance nor walk on Manila Bay to Verde Island Passage to Tablas Strait and finally to Sibuyan Sea. Besides, I would have to go on voluntary 14-day home quarantine/isolation the moment I get there, so what’s the bloody ruse, err use.

 

Even among those who had closure with physical presence during the wake and the interment/cremation, the pangungulila still hits them in the gut and messes with their emotions. Compelled to deal with grief from a distance, the pangungulila zaps one’s energy, leaving a depressed Eveready Bunny.