It's All About Giving

by Mikee de Ocampo


It was only this year that I came to terms with the fact that I had to stop expecting presents to open for Christmas. The last time I actually found something for me underneath our tree was when I was 10. You're probably wondering what happened to my parents and the act of giving your children gifts on the holidays. My parents gave me something, in an envelope which was handed to me before Christmas Eve. I won't deny how happy I was; I won't deny I was already planning what to do with what I just received. However, there's just something about tearing apart red, green or gold gift-wrapping paper that gives you this warm, giddy feeling. I was talking about it with my cousin and we were both counting how many gifts we opened. She had four and I had three. We had a thread on her wall about it which had several huhuhus and sad emoticons.

Every Christmas, my relatives organize a family reunion. This year, we all decided that everyone would come to Manila and we'd throw a party. I always found our reunions funny. There seemed like almost a hundred of us and I didn't know half the people in the party, but we'd greet each other like we've known each other forever. Some people in there were relatives I hadn't seen for years--my aunts had wrinkles, my grandmother's sisters had white hair, my cousins had children with them already, those kids I saw back then weren't kids anymore, and stuff like that. You could say it was pretty crazy and I felt weird. At eighteen years old, I felt old; I felt like I had seen so much, like I've witnessed a huge development. Probably close to the same feeling I'm going to have when I tell my kids "Hey, you know what I was in college when they passed the RH bill."

I know some people who have no grandparents anymore. I've met people who spend their holidays in hospitals because of a sick family member. A couple of people I know have only one parent and some don't even have parents anymore. I know a few who have lost their siblings.

The "meh" part of growing up is realizing you don't exactly need presents on Christmas anymore. You're old enough. They could give you a thousand bucks and you're good to go. Your uncle isn't going to send you a box with a doll or a toy robot inside. Your mom's friends aren't obliged to give you gifts any more; you're a big boy or a big girl now. It gets tough when everyone finds out you've got a job. No more falling in line for a couple of paper bills, this time it's your turn to shell out for the kids waiting for their aguinaldo. Yeah, I hear you. That’s all pretty shallow.

The good part of it is you're old enough to realize and understand the fact that it isn't about presents anymore. It's not about how much you received or where you went or what you ate. You find out it's all about who you're spending it with, who's involved in your personal Christmas experience. At the end of the day, you're just thankful these people are still around, still alive, still remembering you. How sad it is, to be looking at past photos from Christmas years ago and realizing the crowd gets smaller and smaller. Aren't you thankful your favorite grandmother is still alive? Still cooking your favorite dish, still asking you if you've got a girlfriend or a boyfriend? Who cares if Tita Ganito didn't give you anything? Think about the people I mentioned above earlier. Can you imagine yourself in their place? These kinds of people find happiness despite a loss, but hell, they would probably exchange a gazillion’s worth of pamasko to have their loved ones back but they keep going and well, life goes on.

The people we spend Christmas with are usually the people we love, people we care about. These people are part of our lives, are part of us, and are part of who we are. They make us who we are. Whatever we get from them, we remember and we share. I like to read because my late grandfather taught me how to appreciate it when I was a child. I now like watching tons of Asian films because Father Nic made such an impression on me. All the pick-up lines I teach my parents are from my funny friends. My dad used to tell me that I shouldn’t leave a drink on a table when I’m at party because someone might put something in it and rape me or something like that. Crazy, but it’s something I share with my friends all the time.

Say Tito Ganyan developed cancer. You feel something, right? That’s because he is a part of you and you are a part of him. You loved the man and it’s a family thing. You are of course independent from him, even if he loses his life, you are still there, but you are never the same. You have experienced a kind of loss. Whatever conversation you had with him, no matter how short; whatever habits you noticed he had, no matter how trivial; whatever skill he probably taught you, even if it was a simple, cheesy magic trick—you remember it. You talk about it with others; you share it to and with them. In that way he is sort of a part of you. He lives through you. I read this line once, it said that people die twice, when they stop breathing and when people say their name for the last time. Doctor Garcia has said that people don’t die, they just pass on. I guess they don’t die, because we remember them. For us, they still live, in a sense that we remember them and we still give importance to them no matter what.

Christmas is all about giving, yes, but not presents. Giving. It's giving significance to what you have right now. Holding it tight, savoring it, because you know it might not last. You live in the present, so take it in while you're there now. It’s not like you can go back in time and re-do stuff, right.