I have written. But none of them like this.
I have written countless entries about this two-year-old loss that I have been lugging around in my emotional baggage. And yet, N entries later, I still find it tugging at my heart the same way as when I first heard of the terrible news that changed my life. Of course, two years later, I am better. Much better. But there are inevitable times when it hurts as if it only happened yesterday. It hurts as if the same dagger was plunged into that same tender and wounded spot.
Six years before Reggie happened, in a scrawny nine-year-old girl with a bubbly personality who was undeniably inlove with the stage, I found a bestfriend. Her name was Camille. I don't remember much about how or when we met. In fact, I don't remember it happening at all. All I remember is that she was there for me when I needed a friend and even when I didn't. Our friendship was extraordinary. I guess that was because she had a special personality--she wanted me as her only friend and vice versa. I never lived up to my part of the bargain. But, hey, you can't blame me. I never agreed to it. :) On one hand was myself very eager and wanting to feel the grand experience of having more friends than I could count using my fingers and toes combined. And on the other hand was the bestfriend that I didn't know I was slowly leaving behind. Yet through the my barkada-hopping days/years, she remained true to me and her word that she will never leave me. And being the naive ten-year-old that I was, I believed her.
In a blink of an eye, highschool happened. I found myself in a classroom full of strangers and bigger furniture. I found myself in the midst of a group of girls whom I claimed to be my "friends forever." I found myself in the clutches of the pain that same group of girls inflicted when they left me. What I failed to see, however, was the bestfriend I met a couple of years back sitting right there. I never really knew why I did, but for a split-second, I turned my head and there she was. I learned that she hated the class the same way I did. Alas, common ground. We lived each day hating and hurting. Little did I know, that was the step to something even greater. Something better.
Back then, though most people would probably be shocked to hear it now, I was an angry child. I was impatient, rebellious, and downright AWFUL. Yet, in those awkward times I had her. We were lonely together. She held me when I've had enough and when I needed to be weak. She'd send me "you and me against the world" notes and shower me with her love that go far beyond my imagination. (If I didn't know any better, I'd think we were lovers.) Love that, to this day, I don't know if I ever got to repay.
Then, came a turning point in my life. One day, I woke up with a strange feeling brewing deep inside my gut. I was happy. From then on, little by little, everything changed. I changed. I got myself busy with school activities and what-not. Once again, I left my long-time bestfriend. At the beginning, I saw her scowl at the seemingly sudden changes. I knew she was mad but I wanted her to deal with it. Pretty soon, we grew apart. On one hand, I was happy that she found someone to shower her love with in the form of Anneka. But, on the other, I was jealous that someone else probably filled in the shoes that I always thought were too big for me. All the same, I went on with my duties and she went on with hers.
I felt ashamed with the jealousy that I felt when she proved my thoughts wrong during our retreat almost three years ago. I was humbled by her letter, which I kept in a picture album. It said everything that I wanted to hear, everything that she needed to tell me, and everything that I needed to know: that she loves me no matter what happens, that nobody will ever replace me in her life, and that I will always be her bestfriend. That night, we shared a hug that I will remember for the rest of life. I thought to myself, "To a new beginning."
A couple of days later, the double meaning of that thought unfolded. Just like that, she was gone. I lost my bestfriend. Yes, it helps to think that it was indeed an accident and that it was not really her choice. It helps to think that maybe, just maybe, the Creator is running out of good angels. But it doesn't ease the pain of having half of my life go down the drain. She was only sixteen.
After that terrible night(mare), for the first time in my life, I was lost. It just didn't make sense. I was younger then, maybe even stupid. Nobody knew that I racked my puny mind away every night trying to find answers to the questions I was afraid to ask. At the back of my mind, I asked God the question "WHY" but I never had the courage to ask Him out loud. I was not afraid that He'd punish me if I did. It wasn't that at all. I was afraid that He would say, "Because, My child, you let her go." I was afraid to acknowledge the fact that I had my own set of failures, that I had something to do with it, how indirectly it may be.
It was an emotional rollercoaster from there. I was sad for her parents who loved her dearly, for her friends whom she touched in more ways than one, and for the stage that she left forever as she took that final bow. Moreover, I was sad for myself because I LOST her. I was angry as well--angry at the signs that read "Watch out for her" when they should've screamed, "SHE'S GOING TO DO IT." I was angry at myself for not being able to read between every line and every action. And, for awhile, though I never admitted it before, I hated her for being selfish enough to leave me behind. But I was the selfish one. I left her twice, maybe even more than that.
The funeral was exhausting. I was assigned to read a eulogy. That day, I gathered up all the COURAGE and STRENGTH that I could muster and, with Reggie beside me, I marched up that podium and I spoke to and about her. Half of my life flashed before my eyes as I read the words from the piece of bond paper damp with my own tears. Before that moment, I've never really heard my heart speak before. I vowed to myself that I would not choke because I wanted her to hear me one last time. I wanted her to know before she rests that I love her and that I would do anything to have her come back. I wanted her to know how sorry I am. But deep inside, I knew that it wouldn't matter if I didn't speak at all. I knew that whatever I said, she already knew from the beginning. I knew she felt it when we met, when we grew apart, and when we found each other again through that hug. SHE HAS ALWAYS KNOWN.
Everyday I miss her. Every day I love her. I bank on that love and that longing every single day of my life. I refuse to believe that she left. Well, I can no longer feel her touch or read her notes or hear her laugh. But I feel her with every breath that I breathe, with every step that I take, and with every beat of my heart. I choose to continue the life that she left behind. To finish what she and I started. To live through life until my "new beginning" comes. In my opinion, hers came a bit too early. We still had so many plans--debuts, weddings, and baby showers to go to. To this day, the "what ifs" and "should/would/could haves" haunt me like crazy. But as Morpheus have said, "What happened, happened. And could not have happened any other way." The world unfolded as it should. Sooner (or later, I hope), my hair will turn gray, my skin will grow wrinkly, and I will forget bits and pieces about the life that I have lived. But my memories of her will last forever.
I continue looking for my new "normal." The "normal" that will set my life on equilibrium again. After all, I lost one of my pillars. There is no point in denying my strength. At a tender age of seventeen, I have endured far more than most people have in a lifetime. But I am afraid that I cannot be strong enough to feel weak when I need to be weak for I lost the person who taught me that lesson. I've been so strong these past two years that I think I have forgotten what it is to be frail. But, mark my words, I will learn that lesson again--at the right time, in the right place.
Each new day brings new hope into my heart. I emerge a better person (most of the time). Sometimes I am left to wonder in amazement how she still continues to teach me about life long after her death. I wonder if I will ever have that same impact even on just ONE person. But I leave that for my imagination because, right now, I have a life to live. And I am not going anywhere.
In loving memory of the bestfriend I found, lost, and found again.
Hana Camille S. Ilustre
Rest in peace, angel.
Six years before Reggie happened, in a scrawny nine-year-old girl with a bubbly personality who was undeniably inlove with the stage, I found a bestfriend. Her name was Camille. I don't remember much about how or when we met. In fact, I don't remember it happening at all. All I remember is that she was there for me when I needed a friend and even when I didn't. Our friendship was extraordinary. I guess that was because she had a special personality--she wanted me as her only friend and vice versa. I never lived up to my part of the bargain. But, hey, you can't blame me. I never agreed to it. :) On one hand was myself very eager and wanting to feel the grand experience of having more friends than I could count using my fingers and toes combined. And on the other hand was the bestfriend that I didn't know I was slowly leaving behind. Yet through the my barkada-hopping days/years, she remained true to me and her word that she will never leave me. And being the naive ten-year-old that I was, I believed her.
In a blink of an eye, highschool happened. I found myself in a classroom full of strangers and bigger furniture. I found myself in the midst of a group of girls whom I claimed to be my "friends forever." I found myself in the clutches of the pain that same group of girls inflicted when they left me. What I failed to see, however, was the bestfriend I met a couple of years back sitting right there. I never really knew why I did, but for a split-second, I turned my head and there she was. I learned that she hated the class the same way I did. Alas, common ground. We lived each day hating and hurting. Little did I know, that was the step to something even greater. Something better.
Back then, though most people would probably be shocked to hear it now, I was an angry child. I was impatient, rebellious, and downright AWFUL. Yet, in those awkward times I had her. We were lonely together. She held me when I've had enough and when I needed to be weak. She'd send me "you and me against the world" notes and shower me with her love that go far beyond my imagination. (If I didn't know any better, I'd think we were lovers.) Love that, to this day, I don't know if I ever got to repay.
Then, came a turning point in my life. One day, I woke up with a strange feeling brewing deep inside my gut. I was happy. From then on, little by little, everything changed. I changed. I got myself busy with school activities and what-not. Once again, I left my long-time bestfriend. At the beginning, I saw her scowl at the seemingly sudden changes. I knew she was mad but I wanted her to deal with it. Pretty soon, we grew apart. On one hand, I was happy that she found someone to shower her love with in the form of Anneka. But, on the other, I was jealous that someone else probably filled in the shoes that I always thought were too big for me. All the same, I went on with my duties and she went on with hers.
I felt ashamed with the jealousy that I felt when she proved my thoughts wrong during our retreat almost three years ago. I was humbled by her letter, which I kept in a picture album. It said everything that I wanted to hear, everything that she needed to tell me, and everything that I needed to know: that she loves me no matter what happens, that nobody will ever replace me in her life, and that I will always be her bestfriend. That night, we shared a hug that I will remember for the rest of life. I thought to myself, "To a new beginning."
A couple of days later, the double meaning of that thought unfolded. Just like that, she was gone. I lost my bestfriend. Yes, it helps to think that it was indeed an accident and that it was not really her choice. It helps to think that maybe, just maybe, the Creator is running out of good angels. But it doesn't ease the pain of having half of my life go down the drain. She was only sixteen.
After that terrible night(mare), for the first time in my life, I was lost. It just didn't make sense. I was younger then, maybe even stupid. Nobody knew that I racked my puny mind away every night trying to find answers to the questions I was afraid to ask. At the back of my mind, I asked God the question "WHY" but I never had the courage to ask Him out loud. I was not afraid that He'd punish me if I did. It wasn't that at all. I was afraid that He would say, "Because, My child, you let her go." I was afraid to acknowledge the fact that I had my own set of failures, that I had something to do with it, how indirectly it may be.
It was an emotional rollercoaster from there. I was sad for her parents who loved her dearly, for her friends whom she touched in more ways than one, and for the stage that she left forever as she took that final bow. Moreover, I was sad for myself because I LOST her. I was angry as well--angry at the signs that read "Watch out for her" when they should've screamed, "SHE'S GOING TO DO IT." I was angry at myself for not being able to read between every line and every action. And, for awhile, though I never admitted it before, I hated her for being selfish enough to leave me behind. But I was the selfish one. I left her twice, maybe even more than that.
The funeral was exhausting. I was assigned to read a eulogy. That day, I gathered up all the COURAGE and STRENGTH that I could muster and, with Reggie beside me, I marched up that podium and I spoke to and about her. Half of my life flashed before my eyes as I read the words from the piece of bond paper damp with my own tears. Before that moment, I've never really heard my heart speak before. I vowed to myself that I would not choke because I wanted her to hear me one last time. I wanted her to know before she rests that I love her and that I would do anything to have her come back. I wanted her to know how sorry I am. But deep inside, I knew that it wouldn't matter if I didn't speak at all. I knew that whatever I said, she already knew from the beginning. I knew she felt it when we met, when we grew apart, and when we found each other again through that hug. SHE HAS ALWAYS KNOWN.
Everyday I miss her. Every day I love her. I bank on that love and that longing every single day of my life. I refuse to believe that she left. Well, I can no longer feel her touch or read her notes or hear her laugh. But I feel her with every breath that I breathe, with every step that I take, and with every beat of my heart. I choose to continue the life that she left behind. To finish what she and I started. To live through life until my "new beginning" comes. In my opinion, hers came a bit too early. We still had so many plans--debuts, weddings, and baby showers to go to. To this day, the "what ifs" and "should/would/could haves" haunt me like crazy. But as Morpheus have said, "What happened, happened. And could not have happened any other way." The world unfolded as it should. Sooner (or later, I hope), my hair will turn gray, my skin will grow wrinkly, and I will forget bits and pieces about the life that I have lived. But my memories of her will last forever.
I continue looking for my new "normal." The "normal" that will set my life on equilibrium again. After all, I lost one of my pillars. There is no point in denying my strength. At a tender age of seventeen, I have endured far more than most people have in a lifetime. But I am afraid that I cannot be strong enough to feel weak when I need to be weak for I lost the person who taught me that lesson. I've been so strong these past two years that I think I have forgotten what it is to be frail. But, mark my words, I will learn that lesson again--at the right time, in the right place.
Each new day brings new hope into my heart. I emerge a better person (most of the time). Sometimes I am left to wonder in amazement how she still continues to teach me about life long after her death. I wonder if I will ever have that same impact even on just ONE person. But I leave that for my imagination because, right now, I have a life to live. And I am not going anywhere.
In loving memory of the bestfriend I found, lost, and found again.
Hana Camille S. Ilustre
Rest in peace, angel.