Happy Birthday.

I brought you your favorite. Or perhaps, I just think it is your favorite as that's the bottle you ask me every day to buy, when you were still you know, here on Earth? Yeah, talk about being alcoholic without being clinically diagnosed. Don't forget to give the devil a sip or a shot like what you taught me — Isang yuko lang, ops! Then I hand you the bottle again and you start your drinking spree. The only rule of a manginginom I know in the non-existent guide book. 

Remember when you died and I did not cry because I felt what I had to feel when someone dies? Especially when it's your own father who died? I only cried twice and it wasn't even because I was sad. As far as I know, I cried because Granny was crying all over the house. She was wailing during dawn. She lost her eldest five years ago and you went off next. I was hugging Granny because I thought that was the right thing to do. What a grandchild should do. I told my mind to cry because she was and I was so glad my mind was obedient so my tears shed. I was out of school for a week. I didn't even stay downstairs to say hi to all the visitors who came but when it was my classmates and teachers who paid their respects, I did accommodate them because again, I know that's what I needed to do. The second and last time I cried because of you leaving was when your casket was being buried six feet under. Again, it wasn't because I wanted to — it was because I was told. I actually didn't feel anything. To be honest, I can't remember what I was feeling. I was just staring at your casket and the pulley that brought it down. Then Tita, your youngest sister, held my shoulder and squeezed it. She said, It's OK to cry, Ate. And in a few seconds, I instructed my brains again to cry and it did. But after that, I didn't feel any lightness or heaviness like what others would feel after crying. I went back to school as if nothing happened. Heck. I think I even ranked third or second for the quater for the top students. I'm not sure if because I was really a good student or my teachers just took sympathy on me because my father just died. But a friend of mine commented, Parang hindi umabsent si Thea, no? Nag top pa siya.

After all these not-crying-because-she-felt-it, look who is crying now. I have been crying for the past few days because everything feels so heavy and I don't even know why they do. Perhaps I went here so I can use you as an excuse to cry. That I have a reason why I'm crying — disguising as a good daughter, visiting the grave of her father because it is his birthday — when in fact, you aren't really the reason behind it. Once I thought,  What if I didn't grow up this way? What if I was more open, that I talked to you more, to Nanay, and to Granny? Would I be able to tell you all about my feelings? That instead of bottling them up, enduring everything, I can let them all out? But lo and behold, this is me — walls and bottles everywhere. Bottles with caps so hard to open even with the technique you've taught me and walls that are defo high to climb and hard to wreck.

Years went by and I don't even count the years you are gone. Plainly because, my mind just tells me that it's the right thing to do. There's no need to count how long it has been. You just move on as if nothing happened. Perhaps that's really how I roll hence I process my emotions late. Hence it's only now I am crying that I could no longer even pinpoint the main reson why I am because minutes, days, weeks, and months have passed before I acknowledge them — to the point that I even have to think if I should be (have been) angry at what happened? Should I be sad? So the next best thing I can do, as my mind will tell me, is to shed tears. So in every instant of a stimulus, I just decide to pack it up, walk away, and move on to the next one — just like what I did when you left.

You know what's funny today? I had a hard time looking for your grave. I had a hunch that this was it — the land with tall wild flowers that must have grown overtime due to days of not visiting and because we stopped asking care takers to clean it up — but I looked sideways. Then I looked here again and my first guess was really right. Your grave has the wild flowers. On your birthday. Lolo and Tante's block only has two to five stems (they are joined in one block).

Hope you have many of this bottle up there, or down below. Or you're prolly in the middle. But I'm sure you are up there, with all your kindness that our neighbors could attest to. And if ever, you are going to outsmart God so you'll be there. You're just stupid in drinking all the bottle you can consume that somewhat led you where you are right now. I was also thinking of buying you a pack of Winston Red but one might lit a fire or perhaps, the sun will and my brain went nuts that my "negligence" will result in a "cemetery fire". Or perhaps add a spread of People's Journal. If someone gets the bottle after I leave, I hope you enjoy it with them.

Cheers!

P.S. I didn't know the bottle now costs ₱60.00 in a sari-sari store. This used to be ₱23.00 only back then, if I remember it right as my "reflex" told me it is the right number.

Also, when I went home, someone reminded me that gin's partner is cold water. Made me realize my tumbler was a match since that has cold water. My aim was really just to show I was there, drinking water and you're drinking gin. Guess it was luck.