Ronnald D. Tonogbanua

So I am going to go ahead and break one of my own “blog rules” here and post something personal. But I guess what I meant about “personal” was more along the terms of “embarrassing” or “more than I needed to know”. This one, I don’t think it falls into either category.

My little brother Ronnald D. Tonogbanua was born on September 25, 1981, about five and a half years after I was born, and almost nine years after my sister, Gina.

Even though I was so young at the time, I will never forget the thrill I experienced when my folks told me I was going to have a younger brother or sister. And I really, really, really hoped and prayed that it was going to be a younger brother. No offense to my sister, but while sisters had their uses and benefits later in life, at that point in time, having a big sister was the equivalent of having a walking, breathing, living nightmare whom you had to share the same bedroom with. An example: she once wrapped a tiny rock in candy wrapper and offered it to me. And yes, I opened it and popped it in my mouth without even looking at it. She only stopped terrorizing me when I kept on getting taller and she didn’t.

Having a little brother was the best, even though all he did early on was cry, eat, and drool. A few months later, he still did all that and added biting me a lot to the list. He was the most adorable, naughtiest thing though. For the longest time, and this was before he was a year old, my folks were honest to goodness surprised that he never resisted or raised a ruckus whenever he had to take his foul-tasting medicine or vitamins. Then they discovered one day that what he did was he would take the medicine but keep it under his tongue, so when they made him open his mouth it looked as if he swallowed it. And then once no one was looking he would spit it out. My folks eventually had to resort to pinching his little nose oh so slightly to force him to swallow his vitamins.

I could go on and on about Ronron, but sadly, he died on November 5, 1982 after a short battle with Dengue. No doubt in my mind that that was the most devastating day my family has ever experienced. It’s funny, I don’t remember the names of people I met last week, or what I had for lunch two days ago. But even though I was all of six years old at the time, I remember in clear cut Technicolor detail the night he was brought to the hospital... And the moment I found out two days later he had died… The car ride to the funeral home... My worse fears come true when his little white casket was brought in and I saw my dear lifeless little brother for the first time since he had died… My parents’ faces during the entire ordeal, the one and only time in my life I have ever seen them so defeated and so hopeless… And certainly the funeral when I cried so much, and some wonderful person whom I don’t even remember anymore was kind enough to give me a Tupperware container full of cold water to drink… Kissing the casket one last time… And finally the complete and utter feeling of desolation when the casket was lowered to the ground and covered with dirt.

Even though years have gone by and the family has moved on, there really are some things you just never forget or completely get over. There are times when I just imagine what it would have been like to discuss life with him, or the brother-sister things the three of us would have done together, stuff like that.

And then there are those times when an overwhelming sadness of what was, and what could have been, and what never was, suddenly grips you and hits you like a sledgehammer blow to the chest. And you just have to cry and/or write about it to let it all out.

I miss him. I miss him so much. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about him. And even with all the pain and hurt his death caused, I am just so glad that for about 13 months, I had a little brother. I would never ever trade those 13 months in order to not experience the sadness and the pain that followed.

Anyway, that’s all I really wanted to say.

"Make yourself familiar with the angels, and behold them
frequently in spirit; for without being seen, they are present with you."
-Saint Francis de Sales