(this post is dedicated to all my classmates)
You've known me as a person who says what I think and what I feel but very few of you knows that I could never bring myself to say the things that really matters. I am not very verbal when it comes to my feelings to the people around me. I could lash out in anger and say things that could hurt people but I could never bring myself to tell any of you what's really inside my heart.
I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for all the things I did that could have hurt you or offend you. I'm sorry if I never told you or made you feel how important you are to me. I'm sorry because I am a person who could never really express my feelings for others.
And now the end is here. You are now leaving, and some have already left yet I still couldn't find the energy to tell you how important you are all to me. I still couldn't bring myself to tell you how much you all mean to me and how much your presence made a mark in my life. I could only smile at you and tell you to take care even if what I wanted to do is hug you really tight and tell you how much I love you and how much I would miss you.
But I did not because I could never really do that. I could hug you but I could not tell you those words. I could tell you to take care but I could never tell you how much it hurts to see you all in academic regalia beaming with pride. I could never tell you how much it hurts to know that we will no longer be together in coming school year. I could never tell you how much it hurts to know that we will never share another moment together.
I went to you graduation to congratulate all of you and wish you luck, also to say goodbye to Hannah. I was so happy to see you all even though a part of me tells me to just go home because you will be too busy to notice me anyway. Good thing I did not because I might not have another chance to hug Hannah again.
I will stand by what I said that I will not shed a tear of you because I know that all of you are in better hands now. I have long accepted the fact that nothing in this world will ever stay and everything will be gone and everybody will have to leave. I have long accepted the fact that we could not really stay with each other forever, that there is really no such thing as forever. We have to leave each other, we have to separate ways.
But this does not mean that I will forget any of you or the memories we shared. I could never bring my self to do so even if I wanted to. I will always treasure the moments I spent with all of you. I will always remember the good times we spent with each other. Even the bad times.
I pray you all the best. I pray that all of you will succeed. I pray that all of you will always be safe. I pray that all of you will find your way.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
...because you can never really say goodbye...
Saying goodbye to the people that you cared for the most is probably the most painful thing in the world. You can utter the words but your heart never really learn to mean it. At the back of you mind and in your heart, you still harbor the idea that you could stop it from happening, that you could stop the words from going out of your mouth.
To be separated from the people you love is an agony. To let go of the people very dear to you is painful and a torture. Yet, somehow, life is designed that way. At some point, you have to let go of the people you love no matter how much you want to keep them in your arms.
I've said goodbye so many times in my life. I could utter the words as easily as I could utter hello. But until now, I could never bring my heart to understand that though goodbyes may not be forever, still some goodbyes can last forever.
Sometimes I think that its better not to know people at all if they are not meant to stay but then again, I wouldn't be who I am if I did not met those people I've said goodbye to.
Nothing really lasts forever. Not even the earth, not even the sky. Somehow everything changes. Everything. Even goodbyes.
To be separated from the people you love is an agony. To let go of the people very dear to you is painful and a torture. Yet, somehow, life is designed that way. At some point, you have to let go of the people you love no matter how much you want to keep them in your arms.
I've said goodbye so many times in my life. I could utter the words as easily as I could utter hello. But until now, I could never bring my heart to understand that though goodbyes may not be forever, still some goodbyes can last forever.
Sometimes I think that its better not to know people at all if they are not meant to stay but then again, I wouldn't be who I am if I did not met those people I've said goodbye to.
Nothing really lasts forever. Not even the earth, not even the sky. Somehow everything changes. Everything. Even goodbyes.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Lolo, I miss you.
He was a writer, a real patriot and a leader.
I am not talking about Andres Bonifacio or of any other great men of history. He wasn’t as famous as them. He was only known in his little town. He wasn’t rich enough to build a mansion for his family, but he built a home which nestled and protected his wife and children.
He was well loved by his people. In his little barangay, he was quite popular even after he left. He was a man who values education so much that even when he was sick he would call his grandchildren and teaches them to read. His patriotism borders the exceptional. He was so loyal to his country that he wouldn’t eat canned goods from abroad. I remembered quiet well how his children would connive to hide the cans and labels of those imported foods and things given by their friends. It was funny to reminisce those times.
He loved books. He loved news, politics and his grandchildren. Though he never saw them grow up and reach their dreams.
Yes, he is gone now. The man who had been patient enough to teach his grandchildren their math during summer vacations. He was good enough to bring his granddaughters to their favorite fast food even if he was quiet short of cash. He was exceptional enough to influence a granddaughter at a young age. He was the best, if not better than the best grandfather in the world.
He was my Lolo and I was his favorite apo. Or so they say.
Funny, but I inherited everything from my Lolo, and it’s not just the looks. He was a writer, and I am a student journalist. He was asthmatic, and so am I. He loves news, his writings and books. Of course, so do I.
They say I am following the footsteps of my late grandfather. Among his grandchildren, I was the only one who showed interest in his craft, though they did not seem to notice the potential in one of my cousins.
My grandfather is my hero. He is my muse, so to say. Despite the fact that he died when I was still small, I could still clearly remember how he would bring me to my favorite ice cream house, teach me my math, and hear me read or do my monologue. He never gets tired of teaching us and instilling in us the value of education.
I inherited from him my writing skills, my love for books and my appreciation for knowledge. Sad to say, I never learned to love math despite the fact that he never failed to tutor us with it during summer.
The latter years of his life was spent in hospitals. I remembered visiting him the day before he died. I was the last grandchild he saw.
In a way, I hated my grandfather for leaving me. I loved him so much that all this years I would still find myself missing him. It has been nine years since he left me and I still long for the day when I would go home and he would hug me. I still long for the day when I could hear his voice again and he would hear me do my monologues, or agonize over my out of tune voice while I sing to him my favorite songs. I long for his company when I watch news broadcasts in television. I miss my grandfather so much, and no words can describe the longing that I felt.
I wish he could see me now. I wish he could see how near I am in becoming a journalist. I wish he could see my name in our weekly student newspaper and he would beam with pride. Yes, Lolo, my name is in the newspaper too. I am a writer just like you.
But all I can do now is wish. My Lolo is in a far away place now. I don’t know if he could see me cry every night. I don’t know if he misses me too. It doesn’t matter though. As long as he is alive in my heart, even death could not separate us. As long as I keep his memory alive, he will be with me.
Someday, I will become a journalist, a writer just like my Lolo. I know he will be proud of that. I hope I could see him smile each time he would see my name in the newspaper or see me in television.
Yes Lolo, I hope you are smiling now. I am still a thousand steps away from my dream, but don’t worry Lolo I can reach it. I will gladly go the thousand steps for you.
I hope you could read this in heaven Lolo, or do you have newspapers there too?
Don’t worry Lolo; I will keep all my writings so if the time comes that we would meet again you can read everything.
For now, I’d settle for the memory of your smile.
I am not talking about Andres Bonifacio or of any other great men of history. He wasn’t as famous as them. He was only known in his little town. He wasn’t rich enough to build a mansion for his family, but he built a home which nestled and protected his wife and children.
He was well loved by his people. In his little barangay, he was quite popular even after he left. He was a man who values education so much that even when he was sick he would call his grandchildren and teaches them to read. His patriotism borders the exceptional. He was so loyal to his country that he wouldn’t eat canned goods from abroad. I remembered quiet well how his children would connive to hide the cans and labels of those imported foods and things given by their friends. It was funny to reminisce those times.
He loved books. He loved news, politics and his grandchildren. Though he never saw them grow up and reach their dreams.
Yes, he is gone now. The man who had been patient enough to teach his grandchildren their math during summer vacations. He was good enough to bring his granddaughters to their favorite fast food even if he was quiet short of cash. He was exceptional enough to influence a granddaughter at a young age. He was the best, if not better than the best grandfather in the world.
He was my Lolo and I was his favorite apo. Or so they say.
Funny, but I inherited everything from my Lolo, and it’s not just the looks. He was a writer, and I am a student journalist. He was asthmatic, and so am I. He loves news, his writings and books. Of course, so do I.
They say I am following the footsteps of my late grandfather. Among his grandchildren, I was the only one who showed interest in his craft, though they did not seem to notice the potential in one of my cousins.
My grandfather is my hero. He is my muse, so to say. Despite the fact that he died when I was still small, I could still clearly remember how he would bring me to my favorite ice cream house, teach me my math, and hear me read or do my monologue. He never gets tired of teaching us and instilling in us the value of education.
I inherited from him my writing skills, my love for books and my appreciation for knowledge. Sad to say, I never learned to love math despite the fact that he never failed to tutor us with it during summer.
The latter years of his life was spent in hospitals. I remembered visiting him the day before he died. I was the last grandchild he saw.
In a way, I hated my grandfather for leaving me. I loved him so much that all this years I would still find myself missing him. It has been nine years since he left me and I still long for the day when I would go home and he would hug me. I still long for the day when I could hear his voice again and he would hear me do my monologues, or agonize over my out of tune voice while I sing to him my favorite songs. I long for his company when I watch news broadcasts in television. I miss my grandfather so much, and no words can describe the longing that I felt.
I wish he could see me now. I wish he could see how near I am in becoming a journalist. I wish he could see my name in our weekly student newspaper and he would beam with pride. Yes, Lolo, my name is in the newspaper too. I am a writer just like you.
But all I can do now is wish. My Lolo is in a far away place now. I don’t know if he could see me cry every night. I don’t know if he misses me too. It doesn’t matter though. As long as he is alive in my heart, even death could not separate us. As long as I keep his memory alive, he will be with me.
Someday, I will become a journalist, a writer just like my Lolo. I know he will be proud of that. I hope I could see him smile each time he would see my name in the newspaper or see me in television.
Yes Lolo, I hope you are smiling now. I am still a thousand steps away from my dream, but don’t worry Lolo I can reach it. I will gladly go the thousand steps for you.
I hope you could read this in heaven Lolo, or do you have newspapers there too?
Don’t worry Lolo; I will keep all my writings so if the time comes that we would meet again you can read everything.
For now, I’d settle for the memory of your smile.
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