Of death and moving on

We had a tough week. Last Wednesday, one of my uncle died. He was my dad's younger brother and basically my dad's bestfriend.

I woke up at around 5 in the morning because Zye wanted milk. I looked at my phone and saw that there were six missed calls: three from my cousin and the other three coming from my mom. Instinctively I already knew that the calls meant to bring sad news. And the best of my instinct served me right.

I told myself that I will not cry. But it was too hard not to. As soon as I saw my cousins, I felt the sadness in their hearts. My sister and I made all the arrangements with the hospital since the family are still in shock during the time we arrived. My mom on the other hand accompanied my tita and her sister back home. We waited for the funeral services to get my uncle's body. I was the one who identified the body before it was released and it was not at all a sight that I would have wanted to see. Seeing my uncle during that time was like seeing him at his death bed. I felt the pain that he went through. The only consolation in his passing away is that I know he is no longer suffering.

Now all we have are memories. But I intend to stick with the happy memories that I have of him. I pray that his family will always be comforted by God and may they also be given enough strength to carry on.

Zye with my uncle, Papa Wing. We will miss you.