“We walk a straight line—seems that’s the easier road to take (or maybe not)—but nonetheless, we keep on walking forward still, because life goes on.”
I find myself illuminated at this time—Death is a word I dare not own…--I have this phrase in one of my poems I’ve written several years ago.. and sadly my Aunt (Nanay Ayds) recently took the trip to heaven and flown away last October. She had spent her last few years with us and looking way way back from my childhood up to my college days that I've shared with her; there's a prick in my soul that somewhat misses her.
And in times like these, with times like these “we learn” to live life (the best way we know how). As family ties grew much closer than it was before, with just one phone call, everyone in the family was there. Such a splendid sight to see.
And right now, as I stand here in one corner (whispering), like a part of me is drifting from another realm—my thoughts are up in the air—as if I’m walking on clouds.
Float.
We carry on; read a thousand books on every shelf (till none’s left and you buy a new one again) hoping each part of the pages speaks up like they could erase the fact and push a thousand rain back..back.
So I’m back lingering to the tragedies at my window—curb strongly to my shady pillow—with every painted memories hanging on every corner of these walls. I crawl to my door as I bow down too soon; catching the tense sound that emanates within the floors. The comforting sounds that I’m whistling about sets me semi-charmed till the liquorish capacity knocks me down.
It’s eerie to witness a single lapsed breath and find that none of this can really soothe the flailing pain.
I wish I could just flown away.
I walk around the house with this weight that I carry around my chest as if none’s a bother. I walk with this plain face—an austere façade that may seem nonexistent at first glance—when I felt like being sober and play a spat of dry humor when I tend to be in-gravely boring at most times. (I pretty much think I have this communication impairment that no meds can cure hehe)
Now, who could withstand a sly silent dreamer whose thoughts are haplessly afloat and unwavering pointing out at the big blue skies?
I’m just being hard on myself, literally, but I’m utterly sad and I don’t want anyone to take notice of this grieving process I’ve been on. So I went out with friends on several occasions, eat, talk, seen the surfs the sand, and put those glasses up till my head spins to wonder to where the pieces of ambiguity caves in.
Fighting.
Sometimes we grieve for the right or wrong reasons, either way, in time I might find the courage to stay at the room where my Aunt died; stare at that same window she used to stare at; feel the bed and the beddings; sit and tell her it's alright.. things will be alright and that the fears will slowly subside in due time. In due time.
Disclaimer: I raise my glass up as if there’s a marathon, and there I was (at the brink of the lousy competitive liquorish doom). There’s no turning back. As I add another list on my sack. Yeah, being wasted sucks! Bigtime!
