Just like that

I’ve been busy, but I’ve never been too busy to blog. But this past week was different. Because a friend of mine died. He’s a new friend; a new part of my new life here in Manila. I met him a little more than a year ago in a writing workshop that I got into because I wanted to resurrect my television writing career in the country’s most popular network. We gravitated to each other because we were in the same age range and we seemed to laugh at the same things.

A few months later, we both realized that our writing hearts lay elsewhere. We quit our respective shows about the same time as well, returning to independent work, which seemed to suit our temperaments better. We kept in touch in spite of our differing schedules, though we never met each other’s friends. I figured, there will be time for that. We had lunch, coffee, sometimes a late-night trip to eat churros dipped in chocolate. He re-acquainted me with vegetarian cooking and I loved it.

We talked about our lives, our writing, the things we love and hate; we talked about art, relationships, past and future careers. We didn’t talk about many other things because, like I said, there will be time for that.

Late this year, we talked about mixing work with pleasure and soon after, our little business venture was born. It was given a name and then we were off doing our appointed tasks. We were happy with the way our product was received, realizing that we got something good; that it can be great in the future.

And then, just like that, he was gone. I was too shocked to grieve; I focused instead on the practical aspects of our budding business. But, as my day passed and the night got quieter, shock, sadness and disbelief start creeping in again, driving away the desire to sleep. In this state thoughts rushed in: thinking, re-thinking, thinking again of our last moments together, the last words we exchanged, the last things we said to each other.

I remember once, he was talking about how her mother was sick for a long time before she passed away, he commented that he preferred a quick quiet death over a protracted one. He said it in such a way that it sounded like he was talking about something very ordinary. Who would think that after hearing his story. I forgot how that particular conversation ended. But remembering it now, I can’t help but hate it when people are right.

off he goes

off he goes

What a year that was with you, my friend. Wish we had more.


About the pensive poet

development worker. kasuyo. bugtong na anak. retired drag queen. kalaguyo. kaibigan. future carpenter, bread-maker, or bar-tender. feeling manunulat at makata. borderline obsessive-compulsive. control freak. book worm. isnabero. mahiyain. astang cineaste. aspiring photographer.

Posted on December 12, 2013, in journal and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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