April 8

It is the time when he died.

April 8, 2006.

It takes two years, a period in rehab, and series of denial for me to finally say it.

The scary thing about death is that it is not what you can’t do when a certain someone is off to the great beyond.

It is what you CAN do without that person.

It makes you do things that you could never imagine. Things no one would understand.

What stopped me from talking about it was probably my ego, or the fact I was hoping that time would make me forget.

In a way, it has.

Saving my last shred of dignity, I type it out.

To strangers.

Why? Because they don’t understand you, and that’s good.

I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell, both, I do not want to go.

One’s painfully peaceful, the other one is just too happening for me.

So I’m staying at a place where sins and goodness co-exist. Where it makes people like me feel belonged.

It has been two years.

Wherever you are, goodbye.