It was on Saturday at 5:30-6pm when I was anxiously waiting to pull a prank again while Mama was ironing clothes. My victim doesn’t seem to be arriving soon. Instead of the victim’s arrival, we received a phone call. The victim won’t be arriving. Ever. Mama and I rushed to Davao City only to find out that we were too late. He was already covered with white cloth. I was shocked while Mama was crying. I don’t know how to comfort her nor have I even tried comforting anyone at that age. It was only 8 days before that incident when I celebrated 10th birthday. The three of us had a good time taking pictures together. It was the last.

I only cried during his burial. I thought it was the last. I cried almost every time I remember him over the years. Now, I only cry whenever I remember him during his death anniversary. It’s not as painful as the first couple of years after his death, which is a good thing as it’s a sign that I have moved on. I felt so pathetic before when I cried so much when weren’t even got to spend a longer time together. We’re not even that close, but there are a few things that I share with him. His goofy personality (as Mama testified), his love for music (he plays the guitar and sings well), his silent trait (but only partly) and most of all his kindness (as what a lot of people can testify).

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