When I Die, Wear Yellow and Bring Matcha

Wear yellow or blue. Play “Dive” by Olivia Dean. Preferably sing to it.

Bring a good matcha and coffee. Keep the wake short: one to three days only. No staying awake for 24 to 48 hours, and absolutely no gambling.

I want to celebrate my death on my own terms. After all, we’ll only die once!

—

You’ll probably find it dark—or even taboo—to talk about death on your birthday. But I did exactly that- over an hour-long phone call with a long distance friend. And we weren’t sobbing. I was telling him how I went out of my way to celebrate my 36th birthday. Why not do it for my death too?!

After almost dying last year, death became a comfortable truth for me.

It’s not exactly the best conversation starter, but it’s definitely one of those topics I can confidently speak about from experience.

While I used to fear death like it’s the end of all the happiness I’m experiencing right now, that near-death experience (NDE) also let me experience ultimate peace which felt like riding a long wave where nothing else matters.

I’ve watched some accounts of NDEs as advised by few trusted friends and felt validated that their testimony is the same— that peace is addicting- - calm, free, and just pure stoke as surfers would say. In a study, some people felt they were floating, while some saw the light, and some felt unconditional love.

I remember describing my NDE in a very poetic way and wrote these words in my journal:

“I was cloaked with love and hugged by a thousand mothers while I was there.”

That experience, by the way, gave me medical trauma and had me suffering for few months. haha But, as soon as I overcame it, I have a different thirst for joy.

During my birthday, I bumped into one of my island acquaintances and he repeatedly told me… “Your eyes sparkle!”. It must be from the surf that morning, or the yummy coffee I had. But you know what, I dropped this gorgeous line like a woman who just recently came out of her period…“Everyday is a moment to really be alive.” And there’s more to where that came from.

It’s not like my problems all went away because I almost died. I just knew death taught me to prepare for her arrival. That when she finally comes—and someday she will—I’ll recognize her like an old friend and tell her… “Where should we go from here?!” with much joy and light.

So everyday I ask…

“If I die at the end of the day, how will today look like?“

—

I usually hide somewhere to avoid a crowd singing a “happy birthday” song to me, repeatedly, in public spaces. But this year, I organized and hosted a PRICK & PICKLE party! Few people had their blood glucose randomly tested, while some got busy grazing from a table full of food, and taking turns playing pickleball.

We somehow ended up doing karaoke like a true Filipino party and singing our hearts out in the middle of a power outage! While those wasn’t part of the plan, it turned out to be of my best birthdays so far! I am so stoked that I was able to gather the community & friends who supported me through the most difficult transition in my life.

But if I had died that day, I would have gone happily knowing that my mom greeted me, I ate lunch with the Sinag staff, I chatted with some people dear to me, I raised more than half of the funds I need to sponsor diabetic kits for Siargao Lumad, and celebrated 36th carrying so much hope for humanity.

To some, 36 might seem far too young to go. But the further I ride through life, the less I measure it in years but in moments where I notice the small details of life. While everyday reveals to me that there is still more love to receive and give, more hopes & dreams to fulfill, who am I to complain that I get to experience the abundance of it in 35 years?

Death Is a Celebration of a Life Fully Lived

I have a theory that dead people probably had ideas about how they wanted their death to be observed. Some was able to prepare while most people just literally ran out of time to tell anyone!

They no longer had a say when relatives & friends are dressed in black, even though they would have preferred pink. They couldn’t protest the hideous makeup that didn’t match their skin tone. They couldn’t tell their grieving families that they didn’t need to exhaust themselves by staying awake for nine days.

I have seen enough wakes to know that I do not want people staring at my face— covered in several layers of foundation— for nine days while everyone drinks and gambles through the night.

No. No. No.

While long wakes are deeply woven into Filipino culture. I want mine to be different.

I was given the unusual chance to experience near-death—and return to look at life differently.

There was no wake then, but my staff and friends were almost grieving for three days. I have also received and read more than a hundred messages that were basically eulogies- - only, I lived and read all of them. I found some humour in it now, like the universe has thrown a bad joke at those people. “Surprise, she’s alive!”

But those words meant so much because it’s easier to say “Happy birthday!” than find the right words to tell a dying person- which made me think, why are we not saying these words more often while we’re all here?

And so turning 36 felt less like another birthday and more like an extension.

And because I won’t have a say when I’m dead, I’m saying it now, because I was given a second chance to die. :)

Celebrate a life I fully lived.

Read a good poem or verse. Play board games. Eat healthy food during my wake.

I want people to remember the life we shared—surfing, playing pickleball, eating something delicious, or laughing far too loudly until our bellies hurt.

If you need to cry, cry.

But afterward, please play one of my feel-good songs.

And dance. :)