d's day

"she's dead."

“d was gone.“

a friend announced via bbm this morning as katy perry's teenage dream screams from the radio alarm, signaling me to wake up.

did i just woke up from a dream? the first message of the day is about death. great.

my brain is still half awake, trying to process what i just read. i told my friend on bbm that i honestly don’t know how to feel. death is not a stranger topic in our household anyway. a number of family members speak of death loosely as if it’s someone who’s about to pay a visit anytime soon.

the pronouncement of d’s death is like another loud reminder of that inevitable fate that we all have to face sooner or later in our timeline.

my feelings?

it's like being in an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck on a bus seat with a huge black guy who bounces, wiggles, snaps, and perform gyrating gestures as he listens to the music from his discman.

d is a fantastic person full of energy. she’s witty, charming and sexy in multitude of ways. she’s one of those folks who can memorize her lines in a snap. i like her.

i have worked with her several times during our theatre productions in college.

whenever she performs at the stage, she’s golden.

her great command of language and humor has made her one of the queens of the stage during my college years.

she’s one really good actress that i will miss. i think i will miss her more than elizabeth taylor.

of course i feel sad.

it’s that familiar kind of sadness that you generally experience when someone departs from your life.

why being sad even though we haven’t really had much experiences together? well, our shared experiences during the theatre productions in college made me give parts of myself to her. in return, i have also gained parts of d to myself.

i like to think of the human co-existence in the universe like this: as dynamic and ever changing creatures, we give fragments of ourselves (memories, experiences, etc) and take fragments from others as we move along with our journey through life.

these fragments somehow partially complete us in many levels- defining us, influencing us, making us more human.

therefore, missing d, is like missing some fragments of myself. there is pain in letting go. there is withdrawal in every loss. of course i feel sad for d.

it was that kind of unusual sadness that i feel whenever i hear the songs of the band garbage on a clear, sunny weather. shirley manson’s voice do have that melancholic effect on me.

i wish that souls of the recently departed have a mechanism to access their online accounts in one way or another. i mean, isn’t it great for them to see the wonderful messages of praise, memories, and eulogies posted on facebook walls and blogs over the internet? i don’t know if d would even read this, that’s why i am hoping that amidst all the bizaare things happening in this universe, there could have been a way for the dead to view and/or access their online accounts.

that kind of uncertainty leads me to do a project to write good things about each of my good friends when they still have time to read it. yes, that will be one of my projects this year. i can post it on facebook, or maybe i can create another blog out of it.

d’s death inspires me to do better in life. i want to accomplish as much as i can do before i die. i don’t want to be a burden to anybody, and i don’t want to die in debt. so as long as those criteria are not satisfied yet, i will strive to live.

d’s departure to her earthly body reminds us that every waking day could be a death day.

this inseparable yin and yang of life and death is an inevitable part of our existence as humans that we must accept with an open mind.


d, you’re phenomenal. you’ll make the otherworld an absolutely better, happier place.


Kane said...

=( I feel your pain. What you wrote is beautiful.


Pinaywriter said...

I won't feel this until the next time I watch ELBIPIE and I would sit there and say the names of the icebag days of old. And I honestly believe I might breakdown if they ever find someone who can do the things that he can do.
Those days are so wonderful and amazing that it's a fracking pitty that I never kept a diary or a blog during that time. Fuck. I will make my sister make a blog so that she would never ever suffer this kind of problem, to have a bad memory and only have the memory of the feeling of how wonderful it is to the person wearing black bringing in the props in for them to sit on, to play the music, turn on and off the right light to make sure the audience sees them in their best.

I never heard anything bad about her. Can you believe how hard it is to have a theater experience where there are no primadonnas to deal with? Well, there was rufo but we love him like that. ^.^

I feel like she will be reborn, and someday somewhere in the uterus of someone who watched ICEBAG in their college days or the sperm of the people who laughed till they peed, lies the body that will be the vessel of the soul of this wonderful muse.

And once again, there would be a star born into the world. D would remember us, the feeling of the stage and the awesome rush of the laughter and the ovations.

And then she would shine.

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