Just this week, two of my closest friends lost a parent. Coincidentally, the wake of their parents was held in locations that were side by side, I visited both a few times. The last night for my guy friend’s father, I cried when it was time for him to speak. Not only because he spent his rest days from work to care for his dad, for the time granted to them to be with him longer than expected, or because it was the last time they would commemorate him out loud, but it was because my friend spoke, choked up a bit and stood up there sharing how proud he is of his father and how proud he is that he is his father’s son. I was touched because he doesn’t talk much or atleast not loudly, and wasn’t really a cryer. He is proud of you too Dan, if I can be sure of one thing, that is it.

On the other side, my girl friend’s mom passed away quite suddenly. I went there the first day, and witnessed as her mother was still being prepared. I peeked to see them, again, I cried. It wasn’t a scene you would normally see. She is strong, I have always admired her will and resilience. I was lucky to have been there when nobody was around because we had the chance to really talk. I missed those conversations with her. And as we spoke, maybe her mother knew that her two children were already capable and independent enough on their own. But still, the years still ahead of them, marriage, kids, accomplishments, they wouldn’t be able to share those with her anymore. That’s the sad truth. But rest assured that your mom with your dad would forever watch over you, Gwen, from heaven.

Love both of you guys.<3

P.S. Isn’t it ironic that we call it a wake? Maybe there is a reason. Maybe because they’ll always be awake in our hearts. Or maybe they want to remind us to wake up from our own lives before it is taken away from us or from our loved ones.


Protected: I Finally Got It

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New Day

What a difference a year makes. Isn’t it so surprising what could happen in a year? How you can be changed by things or experiences in this span of time? You never know what to expect. What could come along. How you can feel so many different emotions, learn new things, and realize how your life has been shaped by situations whether good or bad, by changes that caught you off guard, and by people who have made a difference in your heart.

A year from now, I don’t know where I will be. What I’m doing. Who I’m with. Or what I would feel.

And it is scary. Not knowing. Figuring things out again. There is a life out there, just waiting for me to open. And it is exciting at the same time.

But I guess, all I could hope for is, to be happy. Much like every living soul on this planet.

It’s so funny, this happiness stuff. We all aim for it. And most of us find it so difficult to find, right? It’s quite frustrating at times. We all pray for it. But sometimes, it’s easier to be sad because we’re so used to it. If we become happy, we know it wouldn’t last. Something will happen eventually. At least if we’re sad, we’d always have something to aim for. But, maybe, happiness is just something that’s not really supposed to stay with us always. I mean, emotions, they change, even by the minute. It’s that fast. If we have happiness that rare, we’ll cherish every moment of it. Suck in the floating feeling of joy. Learn to seep it into our skin, like we’ve never had air in our lungs.

I am rambling, once again. But I guess, what I’m really trying to say is, it’s alright to be sad at times. It allows us to grasp that evasive happiness by its neck. That kind of happiness that makes you sick. Because it fills your heart too much.

I guess every New Year, we make resolutions to be happy or make others happy. I really am not the type of person who makes resolutions though I have one of those lists of things to do. But if I was going to make one, just this year, I resolve to be kinder, to make important decisions that could make my life better, to be less scared. And keep my promises.

There really isn’t anything different when the New Year comes. Unless you make something out of it. They say it’s a time for second chances. But second chances can come any day. No need for a New Year to have one. They say it’s a time for change or resolutions. But you can make one today or tomorrow.

I guess, the New Year is merely a reminder. But we don’t have to wait a year for things to happen.

So here’s a toast to a New Day. May it bring your life that kind of happiness we all hope for. 🙂

Broken as Hell

It’s true, isn’t it? Bullies are broken people too. Maybe more broken than we think.

Cruelty. Nobody is exempted from it, I guess. All of us have come across it in any shape or form. It’s inevitable in life. Yes, nobody is exempted from it, yet nobody deserves it.

I can’t help but think about what bullies have gone through in their lives. It is more likely that they have rooted, unhealed, and traumatic wounds that they try to cover up. Maybe because they don’t know how to face them, scared to peel off the band aid, and are oblivious as to how to try to mend the hurt.

By knowing this, we can come to realize that they also need our help. Bullies are actually crying for help. Quietly screaming. Diverting their inner pains. Reacting to it in a defensive way. Because through bullying, they wouldn’t be seen as weak. Helpless. Frightened. Unconfident. Broken.

But somehow, if they resist help, how can they be saved? If they have gotten used to being the way they are, would they be willing to move away from what has given them comfort? Sometimes I think, we should just accept how they are because that’s who they are, and we can react differently than get affected or hurt. But we are broken people too. We hurt the same way. We break. We fall apart. Even with the little things that aren’t supposed to matter.

We can try to understand them. Give them the chance to change. Because everybody deserves to be better human beings. But is there a sliver of effort from them? I genuinely and pray to God, hope so.

There’s just a point where, enough is enough. Victims have their boiling point too, when you can’t take it anymore. And you realize that you can’t give them the satisfaction anymore by showing they affect you.

As my friend always says, they simply do not count in your life. So why be affected?

Maybe they do not count, but what they do to you counts, because it is just plain wrong. And it counts because you know they can be good people too. If they only knew how. If they only wanted to.

Today’s Viverisms

“When you find yourself around people where you feel the most you, never let go.”

“There’s something appealing about people who know who they are. People who have a passion in something, anything in life.”

“Sometimes, things are meant to be because you make them be.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s hard, you shouldn’t or you can’t.”

“Differences can reveal your inner character.”

“Life is short, why not try.”

“Positivity is self-mutilated.”


Do More


I’ve pretty much been doing the first two these past years. Unfortunately, the third one has often been neglected because of my BUSY schedule. Haha, busy which could probably be translated into laziness, lack of  prioritization, and the urge to sleep sleep and sleep.

And so, last February, for my birthday, a dear friend and I decided to make the most out of our day of getting older.

Grace and I with our close friends went to the Missionaries of Charity Home for the Abandoned/Neglected Elderly in Tondo, Manila to share what little we have for those who have less.

Grace cooked the main meal while I took charge of the drinks and dessert ( the easier one!). Well, my mother prepared the salad and I helped in packing them. I’m not much of a cook but more of an eater hehe.

Charity Charity2


We were not able to take pictures, luckily Sir Jun took shots of me without me knowing. 🙂

We had the chance to feed the lolas and the lolos who suffered from different illnesses. Some can speak, while some can’t. Some can walk, while others had to be assisted when they walk or be pushed in a wheelchair.

Some of those we met were willing to share their life story. They were eager, excited and accommodating to us who wanted to spend a day with them and make them feel appreciated even for a short time.

Others were not that sweet or funny, some were masungit but it was quite alright. They had nowhere to go, no family to care for them. They are truly blessed to have a home like this. The place was clean, refreshing, and with the necessities they needed. But of course donation of supplies such as food, clothing, medicines or any others is much appreciated.

The charming sisters who manage the house were actually from India. Maybe not all of them but a lot wore what Mother Teresa was famous for wearing.

For one day, we had the chance to realize how life can be cruel and kind at the same time, most especially at the end of one’s life. I felt sad and broken-hearted for these wonderful lolos and lolas. We wanted them to feel that, at least for that day, they had someone who whole-heartedly listened to them, laughed with them, cared for them and made an effort just to be at their side.

However, after the event, I felt bitin. I felt that what we did was not enough, it was only maybe 5% of the 100% we could have done. Hehe. I wish I could have done more because I know I could.

I only wish I could sustain these activities. I encourage everyone of you to reach out a hand and make your time worthwhile by sharing yourself and giving what you can to others. We can do more. We have to do more.

The Story of Mine

I pulled my jacket tighter with the soft breeze caressing my face as I walked the familiar path in this dear little park I had grown up loving. It was a great day, I had known it. The sun was just on the rise, peeking through, with its gentle light touching the green green grass that seems to hear its own beat. Leaves endlessly rustled beneath, never seeming to know where to go or when to rest. The air was cool, just enough to be enjoyed by anyone on a breezy summer day.

And there he was.

For only a while, I had known him. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, seeming to search for something out there yet having a sweeping calmness about him. As I climbed the uphill slope to where he was, I had that certain feeling that this was the last time I would see him.


“Hey, you came,” he had said with a tinge of a smile.

I stayed quiet until I was sitting beside him on the rusted bench, overlooking the beauty of our town.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. It’s nice to see you,” I told him, and in truth, I didn’t believe we would meet again.

“You too. Are you coming tomorrow?” he had asked. And of course, he knew I would not come. He had that sheepish look, embarrassed for even asking.

“I wanted you to know that I wish you every happiness,” I looked him in the eye with all the hope I could have for his life. I had wanted him to feel how much I pray, everyday, for his life to turn out greater than he expected.

“Thank you,” he said, looking down, with sadness seeming to fill his eyes. “Sometimes, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know.” It was my turn to look away. “But it wouldn’t have worked, you know,” I said, trying to lift his spirits, and maybe mine.

He was taken aback for a second then looked amused, “Oh, why not?”

“I just felt…too much,” I had confessed, adding a touch of a smile to wipe off some of the humiliation I was feeling.

“That’s not possible,” he remarked with incredulity. “I can’t even imagine that. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have topped mine, I think.”

I breathed in the cool air as I turned to hold his gaze, longer for just this moment. Just today, for the final time. Here in this place where we can be ourselves and I could tell him everything that’s inside my heart. And he looked at me, trying to reach out, telling me those things which I already knew. He was defeated, yet his eyes were resigned to the fact that he had made the right decision.

I sighed deeply, knowing all too well that this was it. I slowly got up and so did he.

“Thank you for everything.” It was all I could say. It was everything anyone could ever say. I meant it from the deepest trenches of my heart.

I held the collar of his jacket, fixing it, and pulling it closer to keep him warm. And I smiled, I wanted to leave him with a smile.

“You are awfully calm for a man waiting to walk down the aisle,” I teased, but my teary eyes were saying another thing.

He chuckled a little. “You can’t really tell when I’m nervous or sad, can you?” I laughed a bit. He had always seemed so relaxed, sure of himself, and cheerful for the short time I had known him.

He breathed in deeply, “We’re going to be okay, you and me.” He said reassuringly. I nodded, maybe just for the sake of doing so.

“Be safe.”

“I will,” I answered. Then I gave him my one last smile of acceptance, letting him know that I intend to have a great life. Even after this. Even with this love.

And then it was time to walk away. I needed to be the first to walk away. Or I’ll never leave. I looked deeply in his eyes, trying to memorize him or how he looked at me before I finally let him free.

How funny could love be, I sent out to the void. We could never really choose who we’ll love. I guess, it doesn’t really work that way.

In a few years, I won’t know anything about his life. How it had turned out. If he ever had children. And he won’t know anything about me either. He’ll grow old and I’ll always wonder how he is. If he reached every single dream he has. Did his drive for work and life ever tone down? Has that twinkle in his eyes faded somehow? Does he think of me once in a while?

It’s not everyday you meet your person. The person whose ineffable laugh brought joy in your heart. Or the person whose mere presence makes you ever grateful.

I met mine on a bright sunny day, with the gentle wind blowing my hair, in the beloved park I knew so well. I met mine on an old rusted bench, up on the hill, where the leaves had a life of its own, for the very last time. And I smiled. Because, in some ironic miracle, I had met mine.