Three People, Three Epiphanies

BEAUTY IN EVERY MOMENT

For most people, a heartbreak is what keeps them feeling alive. Never underestimate heartbreaks, folks. (Especially for some women. They’re scarier. They bring in their friends to the pity party and sometimes, they pull crazy stunts. My guy friends, they’re all about beers and feelings and more beers. I’d rather have that kind of pity party, thank you very much.) So, back to heartbreaks. And feeling alive. It’s ironic how that process forces us to move forward. It makes us feel and see things and people differently. It changes us. But from where I stand now, I wish my shifts in perceptions and viewpoints about life and love were because of some random guy who broke my heart. I think at this point, I’d rather handle that kind of heartbreak instead of what I have on my plate right now.

It’s funny how, when you sit and stay and just deal with things, a lot of things happen. You meet new people and the ones from your past resurface. And the one you are doing the staying for keeps giving you both strength and vulnerability, as well as lessons in life that you wouldn’t have otherwise learned had you run away. And this is what this post is about. A salute of some sort for the people who have helped change the way I see things now, because the view is better here.

One opened my eyes to the reality of who and what I am as a person. The other made me re-evaluate love and heartbreak. Another taught me that selflessness knows no bounds, especially when it’s rooted to love.

Dear ex,

Fast forward to four years later and here we are again: Back to asking each other. Back to the verge of trying. I have been recently going through personal changes. It’s almost funny that you chose this point in my life to come back and fully resurface, determined to straighten things out. Funny in the sense that it’s ironic. The timing, I mean.

I no longer want to bring up that awful event that tore us apart. Past is past and what’s done is done. Why look back, right? Neither of us should feel bad or guilty about it. It’s too late for regrets. I say that with neither blame nor bitterness. It’s just that a lot of things happened and it would do little good to go back and pick things apart. No need to re-open old wounds, especially ones that have healed over time. You have asked me why am I still talking to you, even after everything. Why not? It’s all in the past. And I was never good at holding grudges, anyway. You know that.

December is still far from now, but I do ask this of you: Honesty.

Long gone is the girl who trusted on nothing but words and the feeling of comfort while being curled up on your side. You’ll find most of my softness gone and my vulnerabilities tucked away somewhere safe and secret. You said you wanted that same girl back. Sometimes, I want that girl back, too. It made things easier, less messy, less complicated. But we are never the same person twice.

You ask that I hear your side, that after all these years I should listen to what you have to say. December is months and months away, but when you come back and you find that you still want to take that weight off your shoulders, I will be here. I will listen to what you want to say.


Dear stranger,

It’s been weeks since you hurtled into my life. It pretty much feels like someone dropped a coin on my head all the way up from the tenth floor while I was walking, going about my usual things. The impact was kind of impossible to ignore. There you were, talking to the others about the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve seen. I remember feeling awed as I listened. I have been wanting to take a trip on my own for quite some time now, for personal reasons. Somehow, I never found the courage to push through. But listening to you talk about it, all animated and free-spirited, I remember thinking, “I can do that, too. I can travel alone as well.” And travel alone, I will. Soon.

I don’t remember the color of your eyes. I forgot to get you the whiskey and Coke you wanted. I forgot that twice. (Can you believe that?!) I do remember wondering about the two bracelets you always wore, but then I kept forgetting to ask. I remember you mentioned a hypnotist (McKenna? Ugh. I’m so bad with names.) because I kept covering your eyes while saying “sshh sshh.” We laughed every time I did that. I remember the childlike glint in your eyes when you showed me the mini version of the luggage you bought, complete with mini replicas of the pockets! How amazing is that! *mind blown* You were just so… HAPPY. And the way you spoke your mind: straightforward and up-front. It was exactly what I needed to hear. It was probably the ramblings of a drunk man and you have forgotten you even said them, but thank you nonetheless. I don’t know how you did it, but your observations were accurate. It’s like someone shoved a mirror in front of me and I saw who and what I really am. It’s something I can’t continue running away from. At this point, it’s a good thing. I think I might stop running away soon.

Thank you for passing by and leaving behind something good. Your impressive keen intellect and quick wit will get you far. I wish you well in life. Nothing but the best in life.


Dear Papa,

November changed our lives. It was the most awful moment of my life. Countless times I have wished and hoped and prayed that we switch places, that I would be the sick one instead.

It’s been a battle, this ongoing journey. I want to make everything easier for you. You already have it hard enough. All those sleepless nights, those times your colostomy bag needed cleaning, your diaper changed — You asked me more than once if I was getting tired. I will NEVER get tired of attending to you. Know that. Remember that. We are all in this together. Whatever happens, know that I am here. I will always be here.  Please keep fighting. We’re fighting right here with you. Aja! 😀

I love you.


“Don’t you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you’re not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you’ve lived nearly half the time you have to live already?”
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

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