40 Days And Counting

Monday, November 11, 2013

October 3, 2013 was the day you left. Today’s the 40th day without you around. But it’s not the last day. It’s just the 40th, and there will be a hundred, even a thousand more days without you.

I’m not sure if I can call it a celebration but if I do, this is probably the bluest celebration I’ve ever had. I cried not of joy but of sorrow. And I thought to myself during the mass that I already have the biggest regret of my life—something I’m sure I could never make up to. It’s the fact that I wasn’t able to show you in your last few years on earth that despite the aggravations, I deeply love you; and that I wasn’t able to at least apologize for all the disrespect I gave you.

All along, I thought I was harsh only on you not to notice I was even more cruel to myself. I didn’t let me to get out of my shell and show how I really feel. Then It was too late when I realized that not even once did you make me feel worthless the way I made you feel. I am terribly, terribly sorry for that. Perhaps, there’s nothing left but to regret it each day. But I hope you’ve forgiven me even if I haven’t forgiven myself.

They say, it’s the day when the dead officially goes to heaven. I know you’re happy up there ‘cause I’m sure Heaven is treating you well.

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