May 30, my parents’ wedding anniversary, a date on the calendar we still celebrate, seven years after Tatay has passed on. In my mind—in my family’s mind—Tatay’s memory is alive. We speak about him, in random circumstances. Over dinner, for example. And my faith tells me: he is alive, in the fellowship of saints in heaven, laughing and singing and feasting and supremely enjoying the presence of God. I imagine him looking down, saying, “Dali na kamo diri. Kadugay sa inyo.” But the last days of May found us in a plane, from General Santos, with a brief stopover to Manila that would take us to Busuanga. If you’d spotted us at NAIA, you would have noticed Manong and me, holding on to our mother in laughter, provoking her with random comments that got her riled up; or, more correctly, she holding on to us, complaining about her eyeglasses that still give her trouble with depth perception. She is adorable. She is getting older. We make most of our time to take her aro...
Hahaha, me too Lance.
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There's company in misery. :D
ReplyDeleteSometimes I feel that way.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I feel empowered when I take a meal alone. I consider it respite from the challenges of life. I also feel a sense of independence when I eat alone. It reminds me that I have a separate identity from the herd.
Companions, btw, are convenient in that tables are reserved while you order your food in fast food establishments...
"Companions, btw, are convenient in that tables are reserved while you order your food in fast food establishments.."—But, of course! :D
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