October 29, 2001

  ??? "I'm falling even more in love with you

  Letting go of all I've held onto" ???

  Upon hearing the chorus, I almost jumped on my seat. My heart skipped… no, leaped, and before I even realized it, I was already tugging at Tito’s shoulder.

  “Tito! Can you turn the volume up, please!?”

  I could hear the excitement in my own voice, my gosh I love this song. My fingers curled against the seat, and a huge grin stretched across my face. The music filled the car, the melody wrapping around me like a warm hug. My wavy hair swayed as I bounced slightly in my seat, my thick eyebrows furrowing as I tried to mouth the words just right. I glanced at the window, my reflection staring back, I love lifehouse.

  "Okay, okay." Tito turns the volume higher, "Yo, you seem blushing." He squinted his eyes, "Are you remembering someone with this song?"

  "Hahaha, yes tito Art! There’s a boy in our school who ate has a crush on!" The other girl in the back seat teases.

  "Noo!!" Given yelled while her cheeks blushed. "It's not it tito!"

  "Asuuusss..." Art teasingly said. "You're too young for crushes ah, you just turned thirteen last month." Tito Art added.

  "Yes, tito..." Given turned to the back making face with her younger sister Joyce.

  Bryan was sitting at the back, totally zoned out. Unlike us, he was way too busy tapping away at his gameboy, eyes glued to the tiny screen like nothing else in the world mattered. Whatever. He was always like that.

  Me, on the other hand, was already mouthing the lyrics of the song playing in the car. The words just felt so good to sing, even if I wasn’t saying them out loud.

  Tito glanced at us through the rearview mirror. "We're near, kids. We’re in San Miguel now."

  "Yey!!!" Me and my sister Joyce shouted at the same time, almost bouncing in our seats.

  A few more minutes and—finally!—the car rolled to a stop in front of Lolo’s house.

  Before Tito could even turn off the engine, Joyce and I threw the doors open and raced to the gate, hands slamming against it like we were gonna break it down.

  "LOLO! LOLO! LOLO!" We chanted, our voices echoing in the street.

  Bryan finally looked up from his gameboy. He blinked, stretched, then lazily stepped out of the car like he wasn’t in a rush at all. But when he reached the gate, he suddenly joined in.

  "Lolo! Lolo!" His voice was kinda delayed, like he wasn’t sure if he should be shouting or not.

  A second later, the front door swung open.

  And there he was.

  Lolo stepped outside, and the moment he saw us, his whole face lit up. He had that huge smile, the one that made his wrinkles even more obvious, but in a cute way. His hair was all gray now, but unlike the other lolos I see, I can say Lolo Dan looks quite stronger than them. He jogged toward the gate, laughing as he unlocked it.

  And just like that, we were home.

  "My apos!" Lolo cried out, his arms opening wide before pulling all three of us into the tightest hug ever. I giggled, my face half-smushed against his chest. Lolo’s hugs always smelled like an orange and a pine tree from baguio. It was warm. It was home.

  Tito June went over and pulled open the bigger gate so Tito Art could park the car inside. The second the engine stopped, Tito Art stepped out, stretching a little before walking up to Lolo.

  "Belated happy birthday, Tay," he said with a small smile.

  Lolo finally let us go (thank God, I could finally breathe) and turned to hug Tito Art instead.

  "It's nice to see you, anak," Lolo said, his voice softer now.

  Tito Art froze for a second. I mean, really froze. Like he wasn’t expecting that at all. I tilted my head. Weird. It’s not like Lolo was never affectionate… was he? But then, Tito Art kind of relaxed and hugged him back, so I guess it didn’t matter.

  "Good thing you’re all here, anyway! Let’s go inside!" Lolo clapped his hands together, looking excited.

  "Yes! Tatay made a chocolate cake for you three!" Tito June added.

  My jaw dropped. "Really!?"

  Bryan, and Joyce practically shrieked together before making a mad dash for the house. Cake. Chocolate. Ours. Now. Lolo laughed behind us, putting an arm around Tito Art as they followed us inside.

  "So, how was the ride here?" I heard Lolo ask.

  "Smooth," Tito Art replied. "We left early to avoid the traffic. Tho, it still caught up to us when we’re at Pulilan."

  Just as we were about to step inside, someone knocked on the gate.

  "Mang Dante? Mang Dante?"

  Lolo turned around and headed back toward the gate. Ohhh, it’s Ate Mary. She lived a few houses away. Her nanay was really into plants.

  "Oh, Mary. What is it?" Lolo asked.

  "Mom wants to know if you can help her prune her flowers later?" Maria said, tilting her head.

  Lolo hummed, rubbing his chin. "Hhhmm, I’m sorry, but I can’t today. My grandkids just arrived." Then, as if remembering something, he added, "How about tomorrow?"

  "That’ll do. I’ll just tell her."

  "Alright then," Lolo nodded, then closed the gate before finally stepping inside.

  And me? Well, I was already halfway through the door.

  Cake first. Everything else later.

  Going inside, lolo spotted us three demolishing the cake Lolo baked earlier this morning. It was soft, fluffy, and way better than any store-bought cake.

  I grabbed a spoonful and hopped off my seat, walking straight toward Lolo.

  "Lolo, say ‘ahh!’" I grinned while handing him a spoon-full of cake.

  Lolo chuckled and leaned down, letting me feed him. He chewed, smiled, and pinched my cheeks.

  "Lolo, your cakes are seriously the best!" Bryan said, his mouth still full.

  Lolo laughed. "Hahaha, really?"

  "Yes, Lolo," Bryan nodded, grinning ear to ear. "Last week, Papa tried to copy your red velvet, but he totally burned it."

  I snorted. Joyce giggled. And before Tito Art could even react—We all burst into laughter. Tito Art sighed, shaking his head while looking mildly betrayed by his own son. Lolo, though? He just patted Tito Art’s back, still chuckling.

  "Hahaha, it’s alright, Art. Kids will be kids." Tito Art sighed again but smiled a little. "If you want, I can teach you tomorrow," Lolo offered.

  But then, Tito Art’s smile faded.

  “Oh… as much as I want to, I can't, Dad,” he said. “I have to go back to Manila tonight… my flight to Singapore is tomorrow.”

  Lolo’s face shifted. Just for a second. The light in his eyes dimmed a little.

  “Oh… is that so...” he muttered.

  I felt my stomach twist a bit.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Tito Art continued. “But I promise, this Christmas, we’ll be here. Me, Bryan, and Amanda.”

  Lolo perked up a little, he looked gladly surprised. “Then I’ll hold your word on it.”

  A Bit Later…

  Bryan bolted toward the living room the second he finished eating, dragging Tito June with him.

  "Tito! Let’s play!"

  Tito June chuckled as he booted up the PlayStation. the console’s signature beep filling the air. Bryan plopped down beside him, already digging through the game discs. A second later, he pulled one out and shoved it into the console. A game about zombies

  Meanwhile, me and Joyce followed Lolo outside to his flower shop.

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  Tito Art? He just flopped onto the sofa with a sigh, stretching out like he was about to take the best nap of his life.

  A large banner hung above Lolo’s shop, the bold letters reading: "Cornellia’s Flower Shop."

  I’ve seen it a hundred times, but it still felt special. Lolo named it after Lola Cornellia, his wife. He built this shop way back in 1986, the shop is about two years older than me. Joyce, as always, stood there, wide-eyed, taking in the colorful rows of flowers like she’d never seen them before. It was kind of funny, honestly. I picked up a purple tulip from the display, twirling it between my fingers. "Lolo, can we get one?"

  Lolo glanced at me and smiled, nodding.

  "Yey! Thanks, Lolo!"

  I ran up and hugged him tight, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Joyce giggled and did the same.

  Hours had passed and Lolo got super busy with customers. It was almost All Souls’ Day, after all. People kept pouring in, picking flowers left and right, and Lolo barely had time to breathe. With nothing else to do, Joyce and I just hung around the shop. Then, all of a sudden—

  "Ate, look oh."

  I turned to see Joyce holding up an old photograph.

  "Who's this?" she asked, tilting her head.

  I leaned in and took one look at the picture. "Oh, that’s Lola Cornellia."

  Joyce blinked. "Lola? But she looks young… like Mommy."

  She turned the photo around, reading the faded ink on the back.

  "1981… huh, this photo’s old, Ate."

  I watched as she furrowed her brows, clearly struggling to figure out the math. She always did this thing where she counted on her fingers, but she was really bad at it. Sighing, I decided to help her out.

  "It’s twenty years old," I said. "It’s 2001 now, so minus 1981… 20."

  Joyce’s eyes widened.

  "Ooooohhh! It’s really old!" I rolled my eyes, grinning. Then, after a second, she asked, "But where is Lola now?" My smile faltered a little.

  "Mommy said she died when Tito Art was still seven."

  Joyce’s shoulders dropped.

  "That’s sad..." she murmured, her fingers still tracing the edges of the photo. Then, softer—"Tito never even got to be with Lola long..."

  I didn’t really know what to say to that. So I just stayed quiet.

  And for a moment, we just stood there, staring at the picture of a woman we never got to meet. She look so pretty. She has a long hair, and a slanted eyes like Joyce and me. He nose was also sharp and pointy. While her lips were full. No wonder why Lolo loved her so much.

  Later that night, Tito Art had to leave for Manila. Bryan stood by the gate, waving as his dad’s car disappeared down the road. He wasn’t crying or anything, but I could tell he was a little sad. Inside, the smell of adobo filled the house. I grinned. Lolo’s special adobo with pineapple. My absolute favorite.

  We all gathered around the dining table, the warm food making the night feel cozy despite the quiet Tito Art left behind. Lolo was smiling while he served us the adobo. On the other hand, Tito June sat beside Lolo, watching him for a second before smiling. I don’t know why, but it felt like he was thinking something deep.

  "Tay, I’ll do the dishes," Tito June suddenly said. "Go enjoy your time with them."

  Lolo blinked, then smiled, gripping Tito’s shoulder gently.

  "Thank you, anak."

  Tito smiled back—but it was different. Like he wasn’t just happy, he’s… grateful.

  We asked Lolo to lay in the middle of the bed, arms stretched out as we all snuggled up beside him. It was our little tradition. He started asking about school, and we took turns answering. Joyce was complaining about math again when, out of nowhere, she blurted out:

  "Lolo, why did Lola die?"

  My heart stopped. I whipped around and slapped a hand over her mouth.

  "Joyce! You can’t just ask that!" I hissed.

  But Lolo… he didn’t get mad. He just smiled softly. "Why do you want to know all of a sudden?"

  Joyce hesitated. Then, burying her face against his arm, she mumbled, "Uhm… when we were in the shop, me and Ate saw a picture of a pretty woman on the table." She peeked up at him, eyes full of guilt. "Sorry, Lolo… I just wanted to know."

  Lolo sighed, his fingers gently ruffling her hair. "It’s alright, sweetie." There was a pause. Then, in a quiet voice, he said, "Well… someone took her from me."

  I saw it.

  That quick, sharp sadness in his eyes, the one he tried to hide. But before any of us could say anything, Lolo suddenly clapped his hands.

  "Anyway! Do you want ice cream!?"

  Joyce and Bryan immediately yelled, "YES!" and jumped off the bed. But I just… stared at Lolo.

  I saw it. That shift in his voice. That sadness he hid so quickly… it made me sad… I feel like Lolo’s in pain.

  Lolo grabbed his wallet and was about to step out when I grabbed his hand.

  "Lolo… can I come too?"

  He looked a little surprised but then smiled. "Of course. Put on your jacket first."

  We walked side by side in the cool night air, the streets quiet except for the occasional sound of crickets. After a few minutes, I swallowed hard and muttered, "Lolo… sorry ah."

  Lolo raised an eyebrow. "Sorry? For what?"

  I hesitated. "Joyce asked you something… and I saw you get sad."

  Lolo stopped walking. Then, he bends down until his eyes were level with mine.

  "It’s alright, sweetie. Joyce is just curious about your Lola." His voice was gentle, but… I wasn’t stupid. I knew he was just saying that so I wouldn’t worry. Before I could stop myself, my eyes welled up. And then—I hugged him tight.

  "Sorry, Lolo… I don’t wanna see you sad."

  Lolo just chuckled softly, rubbing my back. "There, there… it’s alright. Sometimes, it’s alright to be sad."

  I sniffled. "B-but why?"

  Lolo pulled back slightly, looking straight into my eyes.

  "Because it makes the happy moments sweeter."

  I wiped my nose with my sleeve. "I wub you, Lolo…" My voice came out weird because of my stuffy nose.

  Lolo laughed and kissed the top of my head. "I love you too, apo."

  After buying the ice cream, Lolo bent down with a grin. "Alright, hop on."

  I giggled and climbed onto his back, holding tight as he gave me a piggyback ride all the way home. The cool night air brushed against my face, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

  Back at the house, we sat on the floor, spoons clinking against our ice cream cups as we ate. The TV was on, but none of us were really paying attention. After a while, we started getting sleepy. One by one, we curled up on the bed, full and happy. Within minutes, Joyce and Bryan were out cold. I wasn’t sure, but before I drifted off, I thought I saw Lolo watching us, smiling softly.

  …

  ….

  …….

  I stood there for a moment, watching them. Their breathing was soft, steady… the kind of sleep that only comes when you have no reason to fear the night. My chest tightened at the sight. Questions ran through my head. What if Cornellia was still here, will I be standing here, with her while she’s hugging her arms around my waist? With a quiet sigh, I turned away and walked to my room, my steps heavier than they had been years ago.

  I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the house settle in the silence. The laughter from earlier still echoed in my mind, but in this quiet, the weight of time pressed against me like an old companion. A few minutes passed before I sat up, my body slower to move than it once was. I already knew where I needed to go.

  I walked to the drawer, my fingers pausing before pulling it open. The wood had grown rough with age, just like my hands. Just like me. Inside, beneath a neatly folded scarf, lay an old photograph—one I had picked up a thousand times before.

  Cornellia.

  I traced the edges with careful fingers, as if holding it too tightly might make it crumble. My vision blurred, not from failing eyesight, but from the same ache that had never left me. Even after all these years, her face remained vivid in my memory.

  She was still here. A tear slipped down my cheek, warm against my weathered skin.

  "Thank you, mahal…" I whispered, my voice lower, rougher than it used to be.

  "Thank you for this gift. For this second life. A gift I will spend the rest of my days protecting."

  I sat there for a long time, the photograph resting in my hands, letting the silence stretch between us. Somewhere in the house, the sound of soft breathing reminded me—of this gift.

  October 31, 2001

  The morning was still young, the sky painted in soft hues of blue and gold. The air was cool, crisp, carrying the last whispers of the night. We left early to visit Cornellia’s grave. The streets of San Leonardo were bathed in a gentle mist, the kind that clung to rooftops and curled around the old houses lining the road. As we walked, familiar faces emerged from their homes, their voices warm, their smiles easy… as if I had always belonged here.

  "Good morning, Dante!" A vendor sweeping the storefront of her small bakery waved, the scent of freshly baked pan de sal drifting through the air.

  "Visiting your wife today?" Another man, older than me, nodded knowingly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jacket.

  San Leonardo had never been my birthplace. But in the eyes of its people, I was one of them… And maybe, after all this time, they were right. I nodded and smiled at them. Funny how life works. I wasn’t born here, I grew up in Magalang, Pampanga, but San Leonardo… this place became home because of her. And somehow, even after all these years, the people still welcomed me like one of their own.

  The cemetery was just waking, bathed in soft morning light. Dew clung to the grass, dampening our feet with every step, and somewhere in the distance, the faint chirping of birds filled the silence between murmured prayers and the rustle of footsteps on gravel. I walked ahead, feeling the familiar pull of habit, and knelt down in front of her grave. Without a word, I placed three pink tulips on the stone.

  Cornellia S. Mallari “A loving wife and mother.”

  Twenty years. It’s been twenty years, and yet, some mornings, I still wake up expecting to hear her voice.

  “Hmmm… 1946–1981,” Bryan muttered beside me. His young eyes flickered between the numbers before he turned to me, head tilted. “Lolo, was Lola pretty?”

  The question made me smile. “Yeah, she was.”

  Before I could say more, Joyce perked up, her voice carrying that excitement she always had when she thought she knew something important. “We saw her picture in Lolo’s shop yesterday!”

  Given, my oldest apo nodded. “She looks like Mommy.”

  Bryan hummed, considering this. Then, in that blunt way only kids could manage, he grinned. “Ooooh! Then she’s pretty if she looks like Tita.”

  I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head as I unfolded the small chair I had brought with me and sat down. The kids’ chatter faded into the background as I let my gaze settle back on her name. I looked at Given. Her birth was the one that brought me back. She restored some parts of me that were lost. Just like her name, Given Grace… I felt like God has given me a second chance for a normal life when she came. I stared at Cornellia’s tomb.

  “I miss you, mahal,” I murmured, the words barely more than a breath. “It’s been two decades since you left me.” The weight of the years pressed against my chest, though I had long learned to carry it. I exhaled a quiet laugh. “I still remember the scent of your hair… and your wheezing laugh. God, how I used to hate that laugh.” My fingers traced the worn band of my wedding ring, a habit I never quite lost. “But now? Now I’d give anything to hear it again.” My throat tightened, but I forced a smile anyway. “I love you. Always have been… always will be.”

  I sat there for a while, letting the silence stretch between us, before I finally stood, brushing the dust from my pants. It was time to gather the kids. Scanning the cemetery, I spotted Bryan and Joyce running toward me. Even from a distance, I could tell something was wrong. My chest tightened as I stepped forward to meet them.

  "Lolo!!!"

  Their voices pierced through the stillness of the cemetery, frantic, breathless. Bryan and Joyce ran toward me, their faces pale, eyes wide, but not from play, not from excitement, but from something else.

  Something’s wrong.

  My stomach twisted. A slow, creeping dread coiled around my spine. "What happened?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.

  Bryan gulped, struggling to catch his breath. "Lolo, we were playing hide and seek… Ate’s it, but she never searched for us."

  The world tilted. A cold, familiar weight pressed against my chest, making it harder to breathe. My hands curled into fists to stop them from shaking.

  "Where?" I demanded, my voice tighter now, harsher.

  Joyce lifted a trembling hand and pointed toward a cluster of old apartment type graves, where the shadows ran deeper, stretching long in the morning light.

  I didn’t think. I ran.

  I pushed forward. Faster. Faster. My breath came out in harsh gasps, but the pounding in my chest had nothing to do with exhaustion. The last time I felt like this—I lost her.

  Not again. Not this time.

  When I reached the spot, I froze. The space was empty. No laughter. No small figure stepping out to surprise me.

  Nothing.

  Except for a single sandal lying on the damp earth. My body locked up, my heart hammering so violently it hurt. A numb kind of terror settled into my bones, heavier than anything I had carried in years. The air turned thick, suffocating, pressing in from all sides.

  My fingers clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The world blurred.

  This feeling… this paralyzing, stomach-churning horror… I knew it. I had lived it before. Not again. Please, God, not again. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my voice nothing more than a broken whisper.

  "Given?"

  No answer.

  "Given!!!" Louder now, desperate, raw. My voice cracked.

  Only silence.

  I whipped around, scanning the rows of graves, the trees beyond, my pulse hammering against my ribs like a war drum.

  She was gone.