When this guy left my life I was devastated.
So was the rest of my family. They shared the very pain that I was feeling that day. I shared a tear with my mom and she told me in return that everything has to end.
I remember that day like it was just yesterday. The day when I, my brothers and cousins were not allowed to visit the other house. That dreaded day when we were asked to just stay away, stay put and pray. I remember the feeling, that sickening feeling of knowing what’s coming next, but we still hoped—hoped against hope that we were just all wrong. And then after that I learned to forget.
I forgot how they broke it into our little minds. Was it a slow and sick story or a fast and strong punch? I don’t particularly remember.
But beyond that I remember how that day brought the family together. No, we weren’t really apart but we’ve lived our own separate lives in different places and that single event brought us together. We mourned our loss and celebrated our reunion. I remember how our young minds filtered the happy memories; treated most of the days as one of our Christmas/New Year’s Eve celebrations. We spent our time playing around (well, not around you at least) like normal kids did. But we knew, we knew so well that that is the end. On your last moment with us (physically) we cried. So much for not crying on the days of your wake, the rain might have been ashamed by the amount of tears shed on your burial.
And still, I remember the days when you’d ask me to pick out your gray hair. That day when you blamed yourself when I fell from the stairs. That day when I accidentally fell from the swing you’ve made. That day when I stupidly messed up with your card game or those days where you’d sneak in some chocolate balls and not share them with us. I hate and miss those chocoballs. For one, they kept you close to us, but diabetes took you away from us.
It has been ten long years since that day when I was too afraid to go down the stairs and barge into the other house. Your house. That day when I hoped and pray that we were all wrong, that day when we thought we’d never move on.
But look at us now, your family still intact. Stronger, closer. We may have had a few issues during those years but we’re still together. Just like when you left us. Actually, you leaving us sounds a bit wrong, because we know wherever you are, you are watching over us. You were always there when times go wrong. You show up in our dreams, gives us a heads up on the storm that’s about to hit. We’ve never really forgotten you too. But it’s safe to say that we’ve moved on from the loss, because after all, everything must end and in the end we’d all be together some time.
It might have taken some time (and it varies for all of us of course) but we’ve learned to accept that you had to go. The situation might have been really hard for you then, and you needed your peace. You had to go and leave us, not alone but together. And you are not forgotten but instead you are remembered.
And I think that is the beauty of moving on, you have to let go as the other leaves. You don’t drag them along with your grief. You forget the bad stuff. All the bad things, and you remember every single detail of the laughs, the smiles and all the happy and sometimes the painful memories you shared together. And that’s how we moved on. You filled our memory banks with enough happy memories to fuel us to move forward; while you sail in the sea of the unknown. And on this day, just like ten years ago, we offer you our prayers and love; no matter how near or far you may be.
We love and miss you Lolo! ♥
Happy Mother’s day to Lola and Mama tomorrow!