The Twelfth of April 2020

Easter Sunday, yes. But it’s also my mom’s second death anniversary.

I still regret that I wasn’t able to bring her to Batanes. She’d always say, “Kapag gumaling ako,” and I firmly believed that she would. She was strong, unlike me. But even strong people pass away.

I still blame myself for that one time when I asked my father to drive me to our subdivision’s gate, leaving her alone to water the plants. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t slip, would she? I wonder if her body could endure chemotherapy better if it weren’t for the huge hematoma caused by her fall.

Unlike everyone in this house, I didn’t post anything about her. My relatives might have thought I didn’t care, haha, and I couldn’t blame them. It was true that I try to avoid seeing pictures of her as much as possible; it forces me to remember her—her voice, the time she slept beside me and hugged me, her last moments.

I miss her, but I don’t like missing her because it triggers the black hole. Now I think I’ll wake up with swollen eyes and a heavy heart.

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