an ode to death

I pick up a shovel and dig earth after earth. I'm digging your grave now, and i hope and pray that i can bury every inch of you. Bury every inch of us.

This will be the pit where i will throw all the laughter and all of the tears that i shed and shared with you. This dirt will eat all the fun times I spent with you. All those Monday afternoons you irritatingly arrived late to pick me up at the Legarda station. Those Wednesday nights we'd talk about the latest scoop till the wee hours in the morning. And those Friday afternoons that we’d had lunch, all in the same place: Chowking. Those Saturdays where we'll spend the whole day walking and wishing we were rich enough to have coffee at Starbucks. The hell, let Starbucks be in this grave too.

Let Toitoi and Poipoi be in this grave with the millions of pictures we took. Sadly, but yes, even the picture we took with Mr. Vulcaseal mascot. I'll tear those pictures to tiny pieces, tear it exactly the way you tore my heart. This grave will have all those photos. This grave will have the memories of your face.

I'm digging this earth to bury San Miguel Babad's summer concert. I'll be digging big to fit all the mosh pit posers you protected me from. The slamming, the jumping, the kissing and hugging we made, I'll make sure it all goes down there.

I'll let the LRT and MRT come down this grave. Megamall, Gateway, Galleria, the movie houses we went to, let them all be six feet under the ground, these places will just remind me of you. Let Sun Cellular go too, it has always been the crap it was. You were the only reason I stayed in that lousy network anyway.

I'll cover this grave with your flesh. Sprinkle this earth with your blood. I'll throw you flowers, don't worry. And this post will serve as your eulogy. I'll let the whole world know, that even though you were fucking useless and up to no good fat-plus-pride, i enjoyed all the times we had.

But this grave will not have all the lessons you taught me. From how to stand with one foot forward in an LRT or MRT, to standing in my own two feet and be independent. From trying to be strong to punch you hard on the arms, to be strong enough to pick up a shovel and bury our memories.

This grave will have you in it. This grave will have all the memories of us. This grave will have the dates November 25 and December 7 on it. This grave will have all our phone calls, our text messages, our corny jokes, the silly dances we made on public places, the polluted jeepneyrides, the 711 tambay moments, let this grave have everything that has to do with you,

so let this grave take my heart too.

Kai