Isa! Dawala! Tatlo! JUMP!

by Amber Cannon (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Philippines

Full transparency here as I packed my bag, my mind was mainly pacing between thoughts of “my heart might not be able to handle this” and “the ordinariness of my life is suffocating and I’m so excited to experience something new… and eat all the things.” Mark changed my life in so many ways that I will be forever grateful for; he pushed me to make a big career move years back. His encouragement and support as I flipped my life upside down and took a leap of faith that led to a successful almost decade full of working in film was priceless. In that decade, I was gifted and ran with opportunities I had once only imagined. When Mark passed, I grieved for the world’s loss of one of the kindest and funniest souls I’d ever encountered. I cried with his mom, and his sister. I mourned the loss of one of my biggest support systems and most cherished friends. I sat in the seemingly endless hopelessness felt that comes with the loss of someone who had been such a source of inspiration coupled with the strength I needed to help me to see it through. Here I was, on my birthday, two days from the 4 year anniversary of Mark’s death heading to the Philippines. After 15hr to Hong Kong, I believe the flight attendants were happy to land, ending their duty of continually asking me to remain in my seat. There not enough movies to watch or comfortable sleep to be had in economy seats for 15hr. I had to stretch and move, often. After an almost 3hr lay over in the underwhelming but immaculately clean Hong Kong airport, I was 2.5hr from Mark’s motherland. We had all always planned to go together, and this was the best we could do to fulfill that promise. Upon our after midnight arrival, we were greeted by Mark’s aunt and uncle with flowers. They kindly drove us 45min to a hotel that was 45min from their own home. I had so looked forward to a nice shower and a bed to myself, however a small room with weak water pressure, no separation from the shower and toilet would have to do for my nice shower. As for the bed, there were two and four of us so Mark’s mom and I would be sharing for the night. I didn’t have a bed to myself for the remainder of the trip. The showers didn’t get any nicer either. The family did open their homes and cook as if there were 40 not 4 of us visiting. Every time joy was expressed over a new dish made, that dish would be added to the menu for everyday thereafter. We traveled around, mostly with ever changing groups of the family. Although, I know they had to make special accommodations for us (hello, LOTS of BOTTLED WATER as our American stomachs couldn’t have tap water), they never once made it seem like anything other than an utter delight to provide anything we needed. Our comfort and our enjoyment took top priority every minute of every day. The culture is amazingly hospitable as a whole, and Mark’s family was a shining example of this strong cultural value of hospitality and family. One day was particularly trying for me. I was so happy for this amazing experience, and yet in tears, sitting in a coveted moment of solitude. Here I was sitting on one of the world’s most beautiful beaches with crystal clear waters beckoning me to swim, and yet I was profoundly sad. Mostly, I felt like a shmuck, and Mark should be here. Not me. How was I here enjoying the spoils of his family and he’s not? Later in the day, while cliff diving, Mark’s cousin grabbed my hand in fear and asked me to jump with her because she couldn’t do it alone. She needed my strength. I had a chance to show her she could do something she thought impossible, and there in that moment I knew Mark was with us. I didn’t expect to find my peace of mind and heart in the Philippines, but here I was…