In Another Summer || Mark Lee/NCT DREAM

Appendix 5. An Open Letter

This page is a dedication to two important people that have been a part of my childhood. They are not related to the story, but they are related to one of the main ideas of the story.

I've mentioned back in October that a relative of mine passed away. And there were actually two, from both sides of my family.

The first one is my cousin from my mom's side, a relative that I used to be close with when I was younger. She was like an older sister to me, and we had fun memories as kids. She passed away back in September of 2020 and it came as a shocking news since I haven't heard from her for the last two years before she passed away.

Then, on October of the same year, another one of my relatives from my dad's side also passed away. She was the mother of my dad's cousins, so she was a great aunt. But in the Philippines, great aunts/uncles are recognized as grandparents, as they are the brothers/sisters of our biological grandparents.

Anyway, when I was growing up as a child, my great aunt was one of the people that took care of me and my older sister. We were close to this particular family, and the news of her passing was very saddening.

I remember back in December of 2019, when I finished the first book, At the End of Summer, I mentioned how I haven't had someone very close to me pass away. Well, I never knew that in 2020, it would happen.

In all honesty, in the midst of growing up into an adult and having my own life, I've mostly forgotten about these two people. Like I mentioned, the last I heard from my cousin was two years ago before her passing, and during that time I was so busy with college. Same with my great aunt, I just remember her as the one who took care of me when I was a child.

So technically saying, I became distant from them. Admittedly, it was inevitable. In majority of the years, I didn't grow up with my cousin or in my great aunt's care. We lived far away from each other, my cousin was in the province, while my great aunt lived with her children, our aunts and uncles. We basically have had different lives to live.

When they died, I remembered the times that I spent with them. I remember the scary stories that my cousin used to tell us whenever there was a power outage in their house. I remember how she used to baby me since I was one of the youngest among us cousins. I remember how I used to look up to her 'cause she was in high school, and I was still a child then.

I remember how my great aunt used to be in front of her sewing machine every time we visit their home. I remember how she used to adore me so much 'cause again, I was the youngest back then between me and my sister. I remember how she always allowed us to watch horror movies at night, even from a young age. That's why my sister and I have always loved horror films.

Those were all childhood memories.

Then I thought about the recent years, how I grew up, became busy, and forgot about those memories. Not as in completely forget, but in a way that I've outgrown them. In the recent years, I've forgotten about them, and now that they're gone, I felt sad and guilty that I did.

I felt like I didn't appreciate them enough. I didn't care about them enough. I didn't even thank them. I wasn't able to.

It's understandable that the grief I feel cannot compare to that of their own family members, their own parents, siblings, and children. But it doesn't mean that I didn't grieve for them. They were family, after all. They were a part of my family.

They were a part of my life.

〖〗

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was disappointed at myself for not being "present" in their lives at the time of their death.

Of course, I don't blame myself. I can't, since I don't have control over these things. What I do have in control are the feelings I have, which are guilt, sadness, and grief.

By the time this appendix is released, I'm sure everything is a little okay now with life, in general. And I'd like to remind myself, as well as you, my friends, that we should allow ourselves to heal from these feelings.

I'd like to forgive myself for my shortcomings as a cousin, and as a great niece/grandchild. It's one way to be able to move on from my regrets of not being present in the last hours of their lives.

I'd like to give myself the opportunity to thank them, even if they're not here anymore, by remembering them as who they were to me when they were alive: a "pinsan" (cousin) that I looked up to, and a "lola" (grandmother) that I loved and respected.

I'd also like to allow myself to remember the good times I spent with them, even if they were from childhood, because those were joyful memories of mine. I wouldn't want to think of them in the future and only remember the guilt I felt when they died.

I would like to remember them as the people I've loved in a nostalgic memory that I'd want to go back to.

That October, I was able to attend my late great aunt/grandmother's funeral. I was also able to thank her and her family through a funeral speech, which honestly was my first time doing.

I thought I'd be nervous in front of the people that were there. I thought shyness would take over, and I wouldn't be able to tell my thoughts.

But instead, I had the urge to speak. I had this thought that, "if I don't do this, if I don't say this now, there won't be another opportunity for me to be able to do this."

So I did. I stated what was on my mind about my great aunt/grandmother. And it felt like I was really able to thank her personally for the things that she's done for me.

〖〗

With these being said, I hope I was able to convey my thoughts, feelings, and my own experience about death. I feel like I have had a true understanding now about it, considering that two—or three—of my works are about death.

It may not be the same as in my works, but it was close to home, and I guess there's that similarity.

This book, and the first one, had become more meaningful to me through this experience.

I realized that if the death of a cousin or a great aunt already hurt this much, what more if it was someone very close to you. Like a parent, or a sibling, or a grandparent. I can already tell that it would be very devastating.

Death is inevitable, we all know that. But the next time it happens to a family member or a relative, all I can hope for is that it'll be a long time before it happens again.

And I also hope I can be there for them this time.

So, this has been an open letter about forgiving one's self for the things we weren't able to say or do to a loved one who has died.

I hope I didn't bore you or wasted your time. I appreciate that you've read this page, because this is one of my learnings about death while writing a story about death.

I'd just like to say that let's learn to love ourselves more, but while doing so, let's also learn to appreciate the people around us much more.