Come see this Love Story:
I can't think of anything sadder, but at the same time, a part of me feels it's bittersweet. At least she found him, that love of her life, or what was left of it. She married him, she danced with him. But even if they will never be man and wife for more than a few hours, she died with the certainty she was loved by a man.
I hate to be this melomushymatic so near V-day. But there's 2 things.
1. Literally, a year would have passed by on V-day, but I still hurt missing my Mummy. I was hoping to be busy that day, but as it turns out, fate had other plans. I was hoping fate would carry me along. I was supposed to go to Bicol. I feel guilty --- a part of me wanted to be far away from home where there's a possibility that I could forget the death anniversary. I almost succeeded, I think. But when my boss gave me the option to stay, I couldn't imagine not taking it because if I don't, I know I would feel like I'm some monster who could be so unfeeling about our final "babang luksa." How that is worse than to want to be unfeeling, I don't know.
Do you know the universe I live in now? Do you really know? Maybe not. It is a world without my parents. I've tried so hard to buffer myself up, but what it really is goes like this: I am navigating the world without protection, bare, stripped of purpose, praying the wind would push me where I should go next.
Do you know how miserable that world is? Maybe. Maybe not.
2. Loneliness -- it sucks. What sucks more is to find out that the man you love has a date on Valentine's Day, and no, it's not you. Some office mate of his, this girl who answers the phone for a living.
Love. Maybe I don't love him. Maybe I just pinned my hopes on him for lack (0r loss) of other places I have pinned it on before. I'm a smart girl (or so I like to think), I know I am not loved in return. I don't want to sound so stupid about this, but I know I deserve to be treated better. I know I should be fawned upon. I deserve much more. Why it doesn't seem to register to others, it's beyond me. :p
Oh, I joke. Yeah, even when a heart is breaking, you could still laugh, can't you?
I should be so lucky to be 36 years old and dying in the arms of the man I married for love. It would have meant I found him, that I spent a whole courtship with him, loved him, stood in front of the altar, blessed by God, cut the freaky white cake, let loose those poor doves, drank the fizzy wine, (and this is where the chinks in my heart give in), danced one last time with my father, kissed my mother again, and then danced with my husband.
We all should be lucky to die so happy.