“The trouble with giving yourself a pep talk is, that deep down you know it’s all bullshit.” ― Sophie Kinsella, “Remember Me?” True, that. When I read this quote I realized I give myself pep talk a lot. Thus is the survival technique of a self-labelled logical person. A friend even recently dubbed me a ‘what-if’ person, otherwise known as paranoid (he should have been even blunter and just said it), but that is a different story altogether. Now, if you’re the type like me to give yourself internal cheers a lot, that frequent activity is easily traceable to a…
Jay E. Tria
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Not much is expected to be accomplished in 21 days after all. The false sense of peace and the lull from the pain are pointless plateaus. Whatever are those for? Breaks to give space to energize, I suppose. Now I have gathered plenty of strength to cry at will because of a picture, a text, a promise that will now never be fulfilled. A single memory can evoke laughter and then tears in a span of a few minutes, and I feel weary, numb, and yes, just a little bit stupider.
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The unread eulogy, because I was a sissy that way. I know she would have wanted me to speak at her funeral, but I know she will also understand why I was not able to do it. And that she also knew that I prefer to do it this way. Cos I am her favorite introvert like that. October 25, 2011, Wednesday. Written for Maj Guanzon, with excerpts from my letter to her that I gave to her parents. Dear Maj, For the past few days, the highlight of my day has been going to your wake. Seeing your face,…
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October 26, 2011, Wednesday Today we have a final mass for you at Ascension Columbary, our place of peace and solace for the past few days. We took pictures of our sleepless selves, because we knew you would want to capture even those moments. We threw white flowers over your coffin and sent white balloons to the heavens to welcome you there. The sun took to hiding and it was a clear afternoon, just the way you would have wanted it. Today, we are all forced to move on. Until we meet again, hun. With all our love, Anj, Mariel,…
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My friendship with Maj Guanzon started with a cancer diagnosis. I guess when two seemingly opposites meet, it requires a spark to weld a real bond. In our case, it was not so much a spark as it is clap thunder. I remember my first attempt to offer her a text of support, drawing strength from my own share of cancer stories, fearing she will reject it because she did not know me, because I did not have any right to tell her: ‘Don’t worry group mate from Quanti whom I had never spoken to before. It’s all going to…
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On this day I went to church and said your name, I had that Zagu crème brulee that you used to drink in high school, and I scrolled my calendar to the dates we’ve marked, my heart breaking because I was scheduled to crash your brother’s birthday on the 29th then sleepover at your house like high school kids do. In between were the moments when I go back to staring at a blank wall, because that is exactly how the world looks like to me now without you—a long stretch of empty static space. You are vibrant and strong,…