When I was just a little girl.
I don’t take pictures, professionally at least. I’d want to sing songs. I make music videos. I make shorts. I write. I make AVPs. I produce. I manage. I plan things and make them happen. I organize. I arrange. I do damage control. I do PR when I have to. I doodle. I swim. I dream of owning a beach resort and living there. I dream of being an underwater photographer and being one with the ocean and its entire ecosystem. I wonder what I still could be. Moreover, I wonder if Lolo Dad’s proud of me.
I wonder if he knew when he passed away or if he knows now how much memories of him I treasure more than any other thing in my life - more than my first kiss, more than supposed unforgettable out of town trips with friends, and more than my Ateneo education. I cherish more from Lolo Dad.
He'd play ‘Que Sera, Sera.’ The future’s not ours to see. I worry constantly if I’m doing the right thing and going the right way; if I should give a shit that I AM doing the right thing and if I am even supposed to know what the right way is; if people think I’m doing the right thing; and if I should even give a shit about what people think. He taught me about acceptance of the things you can’t change. Things fall into place eventually. If they’re scattered all over, I suppose that’s not it yet. That’s the fun part of the future methinks. You just don’t know what it holds because whatever will be, will be.
Lolo Dad, thank you. I love you. Your chain-smoking next to little me pretty much locked my smoking fate right then and there. Maybe I’ll see you in heaven’s Lung Cancer Club. I owe you a warm, warm hug when I see you in another plane. For some reason, I can't wait.