durr...

A friend of mine, who I can only describe as epicrazy (as she is definitely crazy about food), told me of a place that was offering a great all-you-can-eat steak deal. She asked me about it, because she knew it was likely near where I lived (not knowing that, the kicker for me was that this place was a 10-minute walk). So on an early Saturday evening, before the night owls came, I decided to see on my own how this bistro’s offering would stack up.

As I started to tuck into my first ‘round’ of 8-ounces, I knew that I needed a cold brew to go with this steak and side salad (which was just ‘dressed’, and not ‘drowning’), and thus the server promptly gave me one, which was great with the meal I was having.

Quietly contemplative halfway through, I noted the changes to the avenue on which I’d been having an outdoor dinner- an avenue I have walked (and eventually driven) through my entire life. Across the street was a spa operated by our neighbors, who’ve been part of a Korean influx that started about 10 years ago; I’d have never imagined having Korean neighbors, and now there are two families on our street alone. Next to it was a spot where stood a bakery that was once one of the handful of cakeshops in the village, before it finally closed early this year, as there are bread shops on almost every block now. The very spot I was dining in has been occupied by a myriad of establishments, such that I’ve already forgotten all of the previous iterations it’s been.

And here I was, a wonderfully marbled chunk of beef in mouth, and cold beer in hand, that I wished right then that my dad could’ve been with me. A steak and a beer were 2 things he was, well, epicrazy about, and if he’d been there, I think he would have been ecstatic enough to have actually suspended his alcohol sabbatical (he had stopped smoking and drinking for his last 15 or so years), and struck up a kampai to good food & drink, to things that have changed so much over time, and to things that just possibly may never. I wasn’t able to have a drink with my dad, and while I can’t regret too much over it, I’m sure it would’ve been something I’d have been proud to have experienced.

I will be back to that bistro, dragging people I hold dear, to enjoy great cuts of artery-clogging beef, with a salad to relieve guilt and a beer to wash it down, watching cars and people go by, having conversations about changes that happen unsuspectingly slowly, and of things that, through it all, remain.

and it came quietly, the end.

it was my sister's birthday, but she wasn't in the country, vacationing with her family.

it was a regular friday, and casual day at the office. so i dressed in one of my favorite t-shirts, and a pair of comfortable white sneakers that i don't regularly wear.

i treated my work friends to lunch, and we had a good one. one of them asked if i was okay- she knew what that day was. and i said i was. in retrospect, i'm not really sure. but it doesn't really matter- because now, i am. 

when i came home, my family was waiting for me. my sister had a bottle of wine with some jamon iberico and cheeses out. but i wasn't thirsty, and i wasn't hungry, either. so i turned in early.

and the next day, i woke up to a bright saturday morning, and my life quietly went on.

i hadn't noticed that, the day before, all hope and possibility of us together had ended.

that you had finally begun your life with him.

that our daughter was with you. and i would probably never see her again.

i showed you that we could've made it together, and so did my family. months later, one of my sisters asked, 'where did we fall short?' and i shrugged my shoulders.

i had started this post just a few weeks after that day, and back then, i was still rife with speculation on your reasons. but i've tucked them away, because, ultimately, only you had those reasons, and i eventually decided that, if you didn't want to share them, then i trusted that you knew better.

and now, a few months later, having been given time to breathe again, and the chance at a new beginning, i've come to the conclusion that you did.

thank you.
  

it's like my heart's about to burst.

i promised that i was willing to make that sacrifice.

don't get me wrong. i am.

it doesn't mean that i want to. that it's easy for me.

or that i would smile through it, or handle it well.

i was not asked to do it. and now it's being forced down my chest.

when we breathed together, i was never more alive,

and now here i kneel gasping, fighting for air.

yes, again.

i dream not about what we've done, but what we could be in the future.

i dream of me walking behind you, the sunset filling my eyes with light, but nothing compared to the radiance of you looking back to smile at me.

i dream of sharing a table in an empty place again. where we share stories, and we plan new ones.

i dream of you asking me to come back safe. and of me promising you that i will.

i dream of talking to each other. sharing opinions that differ, because we need to be of one voice.

i dream of walking together. and while our hands don't intertwine, it does not matter. for in them is what makes our eyes twinkle, our bodies aflame, and our lives in a gentle embrace.

i dream of this, and more. but instead of comforting me to sleep, i'm left with a numb consciousness.

because this isn't what we could be in the future. this is what we're supposed to be now.

that is why, again,

i can't sleep.

is this how the story ends?

i knew i found my happily ever after.

i have been happy, of course. but what i had was what would make me happy in the face of hardship; happy in the face of sacrifice.

of giving up things now, because this wasn't just about now anymore.

of the plans of building, with what i had worked for and made for myself. it wasn't going to be about myself alone from here on out. and i was more than perfectly fine with that. i was happy.

i wanted it to be happily ever after.

and i still do.

but instead of building, it now seems to be a burning. and i'm trying to douse the little fires, but i don't know where to begin.

i'm giving things up now, but i'm losing certainty of just what i might be giving it up for.

and i'm beginning to think that the sacrifices i've made aren't enough. that i need to make just one more.

so here i am, preparing myself to give up my happily ever after

if it means you getting yours.

with a little help from my friends.

sunday morning. i got out of bed, took a warm shower, and put my running shirt on. a shirt that has always (since October) two things pinned to it from the night before- a race bib in the center, and a pink ribbon at its heart. i greet my mom farewell, she wishes me luck, and i head out into the night. an hour later, as fireworks finished dancing in the dawn, i said a silent prayer, and began another run.

but this was no ordinary run. for the first time, i would be running a half-marathon distance of 21.1 kilometers, and with it, the pledges of 20 heroes who answered my invitation to donate to this cause through the efforts of this organization. for my first time running a distance i had never run before, i needed these people to make this run not just for myself, not for themselves, either, but for others whom we had the power to help.

it was not by coincidence that i decided to run my first 21K to this race in particular. it has become a watershed running event, because the half- and full-marathon distances would bring us up Manila's aptly named 'Skyway'. For the half-marathon runners, just under half the entire route would be run through this tollway, which, at its highest, towers 40 meters above the city. there were more than a handful of runners who had to stop to take pictures of themselves and of the stunning backdrop to their sunday morning run.

beginners' training programs for half-marathons often take you to 18K, but do not extend beyond it. at that point, having run just under two hours, with a major elevated overpass still ahead, through 5 water stations, having had 3 cycles of alternating pain and relief (or maybe numbness already) on both my knees, with my thighs and calves screaming for oxygen from all the exertion never done before, my mind began to wander... could i really finish this race?

and that's when my thoughts went to the 20 people who made commitments to donate, should i finish it. while the amounts they pledged served as a positive motivation, my mindset was not as motivation, but a challenge, a call to step up. i knew that i could not let them down and fail, being so close to the end. this was not about me, and maybe this was partly about them, but it was mostly about the amount i knew we would donate upon my finishing, and how much that amount would provide to educate children across the country to alleviate illiteracy, unemployment, and, hopefully, poverty. it was about the people whom we might never meet, never encounter, and yet we would change their lives, not only because we had the capacity to do so, but because we chose to do so.

and so i forged on, oblivious of the pain in my legs, numb to the friction of my soaked shirt, and determined to finish the race, and finish as hard as i could. and i crossed the finish at 2:24:51, a number that, to me, was just that- a number. i had come into this race not to make any significant time, but to finish. in finishing, i became a conduit for a handful of people to help even more. we finished this race. we became a helping hand. we contributed to make a positive change.

to those 20 people, i wish i had more to say to you. but there are never enough words.