#buhayyvs

My interview was 2pm and I was advised to come 15 minutes before the said schedule to be able to fill up the forms that I should. Well, being my punctual self-- I arrive at around 12:50. Guess what? They were close. Like wtf, I was so shocked I thought I was being pranked or something. I went back downstairs and the guard confirmed that they went out. Well, I took time and waited outside since I was and hour earlier. They were back at around 1:35, well, they went to the main office at Makati for Ms. Joyce's promotion, so. There were 3 applicants including myself. I was the first one who got interview and when I went out there were, I think, 10 more people. 

Initially, the plan was my Mom will be the one to hood me on the Baccalaureate Mass—which is tomorrow—and everyone will come kasi nga si Dad lang ang pwede on the 28th. Well THAT was the plan until today when I went home. Mom was like “di na ata ako pupunta bukas kasi may practice sila Reikah, iba yung venue” my answer was “sana sinabi niyo sakin para di na ko gumawa ng paraan para makakuha ng isa pang ticket. Bumili pa ko wala naman palang pag gagamitan”

Nakakainis lang kasi. Well siguro madali lang makagetover sa effort ko ng paghahahanap ng extra ticket, 50 pesos lang naman yun eh. Pero kasi di ba? Planado na eh. Complete lahat sa Baccalaureate kasi nga wala sa graduation. Pero tangina naman. Dahil iba lang venue recognition ng kapatid ko and tomorrow din yung last day of practice niya iwanan na sa ere? Practice lang yun. Akin hooding ceremony. Practice lang yun, gusto mo malaman lang naman kung saan? Pwede naman pag tapos ng Baccalaureate ko eh!

Yeah, I might be crazy. Pretending you're still here, wishing you're still here. Each and every day I keep on wishing to go back in time, to answer that call you made before you got re-admitted to the hospital. To hold you tighter during your last hours. Do you even remember your plans? You said na we'll go to Ilocos, on a sports car. You said you wanted to spend a day on the beach. I was actually looking forward to that day. I still remember how that conversation ended-- you hugging me tight, my arms wrapped around yours as you try catching your breath from walking from the lazy boy to the bathroom, exhausting yourself from the walking.

I sometimes ask myself.. Why do I keep talking to you? You wont even talk to me. Why do I keep wishing you were here with me? It's not even possible. It has almost been two years, why do I feel like I'm the only one who has not moved on? Lolo died, yeas I cried but I've moved on. Lola died, I've moved on. Ninang Bebe died, but I got over it. But you.. You left me.. But I cant get over the fact that you left me.. Us.. 

Why do I always run to you when Im upset, frustrated, happy, tired, broken? Why do I keep on talking to you every time I pass by the church? Why cant I move forward? I've always thought how much it would be better for you to be with our Lord because everyone, who knows better, know how much I've seen suffer. Because I was there.. From the beginning until the end. Until your last breath. 

Last time, whenever I see you suffering, feeling the pain.. Hearing you cry at night, yes, I was awake.. You were asking him to you, to save you from all the pain.. I thought that I have accepted the fact that sooner or later he will get you, he will save you from all the pain you have been feeling. I thought that I would be able to accept it easily.. But why am I feeling this way? Why did I felt that way? When you were lying on the hospital bed, comatose, tubes all over you, respirator and that heart machine filling up the room. That fucking fail moment when your respirator beeped like a flat line, when I was crying and heard that sound, thinking you had a flat line, never thought I could cry any more tears but I did-- then poof, it was just the respirator, and I was just paranoid. I thought at that moment He's already getting you from me and I let out a long scream of "Kuya!".. That moment I knew I wasnt ready.. That moment.. I knew I wasnt ready to let you go. I was holding on to your words that kept ringing at the back of my mind-- your voice filling my head "Basta natibok pa, lalaban tayo.." It was on repeat.. I was holding onto it.. Grasping it with all that I can.. 

You.. You had a flat line. I knew it was game over for us. You know what sucks? We went out to get food. We were at 7/11, then I had a hunch about you. About your final beat.. I kept thinking no, I kept saying too my self no.. Sitting at the backseat staring out the window, my manta for that time was "No. No Kuya, No." I kept saying it, until we were greeted by that news. But I cant do anything, they wont let people inside the ICU. Last I know, they were reviving you.. And you were revived.. I see how they did it.. I saw how your heart responds again, those faint beeps still haunts me.. 

I remembered your words "Basta natibok pa, lalaban tayo." I thought to myself, was that considered a second chance? Or was that a sign for me to just let go and accept the fact that you're gone and there's nothing for me to do. I thought about the latter, it was probably that. It was a warning, a warning for me to let go. To help my self let go. Sitting outside your cubicle, you have another flat line, which gave me a confirmation.. It's time.. They were reviving you, vigorously pumping your chest, the nurse was on top of you, determined to bring your heart beat back-- not knowing he was your friend. Seeing this, this, this brutal scene kept saying "Tama na.. Tama na please.." I cant afford to lose you, but I cant take seeing you like this, seeing you suffer when the fact is that... You have a flat line.. You were cold.. Your body, lies lifeless in front of me.. Your hand not responding anymore.. As I kissed your forehead, the chills of your cold body as my lips pressed up against your forehead was the only thing I could feel.. I knew you're gone.. And I have to move on..