Yesterday was difficult. Among my siblings I was the one who cried less. I’m the type of person who would prefer crying on my own, not letting anyone see me break down.
Yesterday was difficult. My little brother talked to me and said, “Wala na yung naglolove sa akin.”
Everything is ten times harder. We still are in adjustment phase. It’s been three weeks since the nightmare that was May 17. I am afraid of forgetting him. I’m still finding it hard to wake up in the morning and do normal tasks. I still see him in every corner of this house.
Before I took a bath today I saw the diarrhea medicines he bought me two months ago. Then I remembered that he’s gone. I saw him when I got outside of the house. I felt that something was missing when I saw his red motorcycle parked, but the driver isn’t there. I see him, always.
I feel sad 99% of the time. How could such a strong, young, and athletic man die too soon. I also found myself scrolling through facebook and stalking my former classmate’s perfect life. All parents are there, she’s planning her wedding, studied in my dream school. Her life is very much different than mine.
I can’t help but compare how unfair everything is. Moving on is impossible but moving forward is a choice that I have to make every day.
He won’t see me graduate and become a doctor. He won’t walk me down the aisle. He won’t get to teach his future grandkids basketball. He won’t be able to run for politics. Everything has been put to a stop, without even an inch of hope.
I just try to get through the day. I don’t have an idea if getting back up is possible anytime soon. I just need to get through this painful day.
