Gloomy.

Roughly 5 years ago… at around 6:30 in the morning… the boy’s yaya comes storming in his room to wake him up with these word… “mamamatay na ang kapatid mo… mamamatay na ang kapatid mo..” At first, he was telling her to get a hold of herself and to stop uttering such horrifying words. He was in disbelief. He told her to get out of his room and wanted to be left alone. He was trying his best to keep things at a normal, he tried dressing up for school, but his heart just kept hammering, harder and harder, faster and faster, as each second went by. The cruel reality he had to face as he entered the master’s bedroom. He first saw his mom. Her eyes, filled with grief and sorrow. The feeling of a mother seeing what came from her, go before her, must have been one of the most painful experiences she has gone through. His dad, though the boy could vaguely remember, seated on the other side of the bed, outlined with nothing more but that of a mournful aura. The boy’s other sister, though teary-eyed and sadness clearly inside her, was able to keep her composure… and him, the boy, the youngest of them all, aimlessly and pointlessly walking wherever his feet would take him around the house, remembering the last conversation he had with his ailing sister, just the night before she passed away…

Brother: "I love you so much..." (squeezing her tighly, with tears gushing out of his eyes)

Sister: "I love you too…"(written on a magic slate as she could no longer talk)

as well as portions of the conversation he made with her on his birthday….

Sister: (on the magic slate) Why are you crying? What’s wrong?

Brother: “Your going to get well, okay? Promise me, okay? That’s the best birthday gift anyone could give me. We’re going to fight this together, okay?”

(Tears just flowed down her eyes and a subdued smile was given to him as a reply. He hugged her and held her hand.)

August 3, 2005… at around 9 p.m.… while rehearsing for a play in school… I scanned through the whole theater, looking at the empty chairs, the lights, the people, I suddenly felt her. I felt her. I felt her looking down on me, watching me. I remembered my sister. I remembered how she used to love performing. I remembered how she used to act and sing. I remembered how she used to love the theater. I remembered the morning at the master’s bedroom. I remembered our last conversation hours before she passed away. I remembered the afternoon of my 11th birthday. I remembered her. I felt her.