Here's to the man who has been showing us that hope is real even in this crazy world. He has been waging so many battles, yet he won only a few things that he truly deserve.
May I shamelessly greet Cyel, a good friend of mine who is celebrating her birthday today. If she will not be cramming to finish all her case studies tonight, she will probably be on a dinner date with her special someone. Eitherway, I hope that a major, major pigout will be in order for the rest of us this weekend.
There are 3 more posts on queue before I would finally end the Ilocos series. But I am squeezing this entry to express my fondest farewell to Kimberley, my friend and colleague, and in that particular order.
I cannot say the same pattern of heroism, tragedy, victory and defeat would show up in the coming year. It could get worse. And it could also get very boring. I can only hope that we would now look at every monumental loss with maturity and resilience. I also hope that we would also look at every triumphant breakthrough with sobriety and gratitude.
One afternoon, thirteen years ago, my sister bought me my first bottled water. I requested her to buy me one for two reasons. First, I would like to find out how water that is bottled would actually taste compared to our version of it at home.
I asked myself: "What do I want to tell the world this year?" While there maybe too many sad stories at my disposal, there are also those that made me wonder, smile and laugh. I am humbled and overwhelmed by the thought that there is beauty in the familiar, purpose for the pain and wisdom in the superficial.
But the real Gilutongan is far from the picturesque island-hopping stopover we may know about. Consider the following: only 13 out of the 250 homes have toilets; the island does not have potable water supply, a sewage system or electricity; gambling is rampant because it is tolerated by the local officials.
Pocki-Pocki was one of the four ducklings that almost failed to see the light of day if not for Gaga’s timely intervention. Their duck parents apparently abandoned them since their other healthy duck-siblings are already up on their webbed feet.
My father was luckily spared from certain death despite not wearing his seatbelt. But aside from undergoing several major surgeries at the local hospital, he needed to be transported to Manila for a crucial procedure that had to be performed by the only spine surgeon in the country at that time. A Harrington Rod was attached to a portion of his spine because his T12-L1 vertebrae had a crack. Up to this day, it still is there.
Talk to your taxi drivers because like you, they also are trying to find their way around in this world. You will be surprised with what they can talk about - their heart-warming stories about their growing kids, their conspiracy theories about a controversial government transaction or even their classified information about a local politician.