Remembering Momon

We endearingly call him Momon. He is a cousin of mine who is a few years younger than me. I have a lot of first cousins from my father’s side – there’s 20 of us in total, as my father came from a big family. Even though we all have grown old, Momon remained a child.

Momon was born with a genetic disorder that caused him intellectual disability. It affected his motor skills too.

I remember when I was a boy, perhaps I just started school, I would visit my uncle’s home in Bacood, at Sta. Mesa, Manila, and there I would play with Momon. He did not crawl, but he was able to get around. While he was seated on the floor, he would flex his legs and slide himself forward. He would chase his younger sister who was already crawling. Momon was 2 or 3 years old at that time. My uncle was very happy and proud to see him go as it was a great milestone for him.

Momon eventually was able to walk and talk. He was able to communicate with basic thoughts and language with his parents and his family, including us, his cousins. When asked what his name was, he would say “Momon,” instead of Raymond. But his understanding of the intricacies of the world around him remained limited. Despite of all his challenges and the cruel circumstances that life has dealt him with, one good thing was that he remained innocent like a child.

We cousins grew up. We chased our dreams. We started our own families. Some of the cousins went abroad to the US, Canada, Japan, Thailand, Singapore, and the Middle East. But Momon remained at home. My uncle and my aunt had dedicated their lives in caring for him. I can only imagine all the sacrifices they went through, all the love and patience they poured on him, to give him a life as “normal” as possible.

As I have immigrated to the US, I have not seen Momon for some time nor have I heard of him that much. Perhaps I was too busy in dealing with my own challenges in life. But it was nothing compared to Momon’s daily struggles.

The last time I remember of seeing Momon again was when I came home to the Philippines for a visit some years back. We celebrated my kids’ combined birthdays (their birthdays were 2 weeks apart) that we held in a Jollibee restaurant somewhere in Makati, complete with games and party mascots. My uncle came with Momon. He looked like a grown man, but he remained the same Momon that I knew, guileless and trusting. I observed that he enjoyed the children’s party.

Two years ago Momon’s mom got really sick and was hospitalized. She stayed in the hospital for a while, but in spite of all the medical care, she eventually died. His family did not tell Momon that his mother died. In their opinion, Momon will not comprehend the gravity of the situation and would just give him unending grief.

I learned that during the burial, one of our cousins took Momon out to a mall and ate out in the restaurant, while the rest of the family attended the funeral. Of course Momon had a lot of questions on why he was going out without his immediate family, and why he had not seen his mother for some time.

I also learned that he was told that his mother just went abroad to work, instead of passing away. In Momon’s mind he could not grasp why his mother would leave him without saying goodbye. Did he eventually learned the truth? I don’t know. Was it the best decision to shield him from the harsh realities of life? I don’t know either.

Few days ago, we received sadder news about Momon. From the story we got from another cousin, he collapsed suddenly while he was in the bathroom. It so happened that his father was out to buy lunch, and only his sister was at home, who called emergency medical services. By the time the ambulance brought him to the hospital they were told that he was already dead.

And just like that, my cousin who was a perpetual child, was gone.

Good night Momon. You can rest peacefully now. This cruel world cannot harm you anymore.