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Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Kuya B

Dear Me,

Kuya B was such a great guy, a great cousin. Among my cousins, he was my most favorite. He was the reason why in my growing years I wished having an older brother. We used to play and poke each other like other kids. We had fun together. I used to stick with him more than I did with my female cousins. He reprimanded me when I did something wrong while playing with my other cousins and explained to me why I was wrong. It felt like he treated me like his real sister. That was my fondest memory of him when I was still a little girl.

When he got married, I felt sad. I wasn't close to his wife. I even had the feeling she hated me then. I could recall one time when I stayed in their house for a sleep-over (it was already late that night and my uncle B told me to stay at the house). That night and till the wee hours of the morning, we played scrabble while catching up with the latest on each other's lives. We had been laughing like crazy about everything. That was my fondest memory of him as a grown-up.

I have been busy with my own life and rarely did I participate in family reunions. The times that I attended, he wasn't there and when he did, I never showed up.

The last reunion wherein we saw each other was the time when it felt like we were strangers to each other. We sort of drifted apart.

The very last time we bumped into each other was at the hospital where my paternal grandmother was confined. A mere exchange of hi's and hello's was the only thing that took place then.

And the last talk we had was a surprise SMS from him. He asked me why I was a snob at the reunion and why didn't I join the rest (of the reunions) after that. I was kinda indifferent to him for accusing me of such. I wasn't being snob. I tried to reach out to everyone but the timing nor the place wasn't perfect. Reunions were supposed to be fun, endearing and making families bond together. But it wasn't the case.

That's how everything was until my mother woke me up with the bad news. I just couldn't believe that he left us already and I was really guilty for not telling him about everything.

I did not come to his wake because I really did not believe that he was gone.

He was only 29 years old.

Last Saturday, I decided to come to his burial. There were so many people - family, his friends, neighbors, colleagues and students. They showed how much they loved him. We all loved him and as much as we felt so desolate that he had left us, we knew that he is happy where he is now.

I stayed away from anyone I know. I uttered a prayer that only God and Kuya B could hear.

In silence, I shed tears of mourn and utter grief.

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It is always refreshing to know what is in your mind. Thanks!