Eulogy for Eulogia
The house of joy and laughter is no longer what it used to be. It was the second night I saw you lying in THAT casket. The house was so dark. Sad. Lonely. Perhaps even the house mourned for you.
I felt the sadness but I didn't mind; I looked at every corner of the house, but I didn't see what I've been looking for. I tried to take a peek at your room, but I felt pangs of fear--Am probably scared because I might eventually come into my senses and terribly realize you're already gone. OR perhaps the thought of seeing you standing in the dark, smiling at me would give me my premature death. Well, a young woman can horribly imagine.
I tried to be brave; I looked at your room but all I saw was darkness. I tried to keep it cool because it was scary. My very moment of great pretension.
I looked thrice at your room; maybe I was expecting you to come out and ask, "tara ne? Nagkakan na kamo? Sisay kaibahan mo?" Although the thought was really nice—thought or a glimpse of a memory—I was on the brink of crying.
I ran upstairs because I can't trust myself with my emotions any longer. The house was empty. It longed for its owners. The living room cannot be called as it literally was; it became a huge, dark, and lonely area of what we called home.
You're gone.
I tried to REALLY keep my cool the day I arrived until I left the town.
Now I'm missing you more than ever, Mama Ying.
Perhaps I am not as emotionally so strong to hold back my tears--for you.
I will be back.
We'll see each other—again.
The house of joy and laughter is no longer what it used to be. It was the second night I saw you lying in THAT casket. The house was so dark. Sad. Lonely. Perhaps even the house mourned for you.
I felt the sadness but I didn't mind; I looked at every corner of the house, but I didn't see what I've been looking for. I tried to take a peek at your room, but I felt pangs of fear--Am probably scared because I might eventually come into my senses and terribly realize you're already gone. OR perhaps the thought of seeing you standing in the dark, smiling at me would give me my premature death. Well, a young woman can horribly imagine.
I tried to be brave; I looked at your room but all I saw was darkness. I tried to keep it cool because it was scary. My very moment of great pretension.
I looked thrice at your room; maybe I was expecting you to come out and ask, "tara ne? Nagkakan na kamo? Sisay kaibahan mo?" Although the thought was really nice—thought or a glimpse of a memory—I was on the brink of crying.
I ran upstairs because I can't trust myself with my emotions any longer. The house was empty. It longed for its owners. The living room cannot be called as it literally was; it became a huge, dark, and lonely area of what we called home.
You're gone.
I tried to REALLY keep my cool the day I arrived until I left the town.
Now I'm missing you more than ever, Mama Ying.
Perhaps I am not as emotionally so strong to hold back my tears--for you.
I will be back.
We'll see each other—again.
Padangat po mi ikang maray.
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