(no subject)
Justin Chua suffered a fatal accident. His wake will be in the Sanctuarium (735G Araneta Ave. corner Quezon Ave., beside Jollibee). He will be at the 3rd floor, Oleander Room, and will be there from 3pm today until sunday.
I got up at one-thirty this morning to find this message waiting for me. Since graduating, four kids from my year in high school have passed away. Every time one of them died, I felt obligated, as a writer and friend, to eulogize them somehow, if not for others at least for myself. But every time I come to the keys for it, I... can't somehow. Something inside me stops.
Howell died in a fire he should have been able to escape from. Justin Ong died in a car accident driving his girlfriend back from a party. Thomas, one of the first people I called friend and meant it, was murdered by men who came to kill his father. I wished I could say something but I couldn't. When people told me about them, all I could do was sit in my room and remember what they looked like, and realize that that was the only way I'd ever get to see them again.
And today I hear about Justin. I think back to the last time I saw him, which was when I had lunch with him last week. He was a tall, lanky guy with hair all over the place with a smile that did nothing to hide his peerless goof. If you could imagine a walking tree on some kind of magical drug, you'd be seeing him somewhat the way I see him. The kid was smart, though, damn, he was smart. A 4.0 from CMU isn't anything to sneeze at. He was supposed to fly back to college today.
That he was found dead in a bathroom of his house on the day of his flight and that his family had him cremated immediately, that's all I know, and apparently that's all anyone knows right now. I really hope his death was as accidental as it's being told because God - God, he was my friend, I didn't want him to die alone.
All of them died back home. Every time I found out, I was away. It didn't make me any less grieving, but I wish I had someone to... cry with. Someone who knew them too. Not just someone who knew what it was like to lose someone, but someone who knew what it was like to lose Thomas, or Justin. I want to go to their parents, their brothers, sisters, friends and people who knew them and loved them and will spend the rest of their lives wishing they'd done something differently and tell them that I will miss them too. I will.
And I don't think this ever really gets said enough. Life is fast, too fast sometimes for some of us to see where it's going or who gets left behind. And I don't care what Hobbes says about it. It's short, but it's definitely not nasty and brutish. It's beautiful. And everyone that goes reminds us that we've got to go on loving for them. To fill the gaps and voids where they used to be. We've got to do it for Howell and Thomas and Justin and Justin and everyone else. It's all we can do.
I love you, every single one of you.
I got up at one-thirty this morning to find this message waiting for me. Since graduating, four kids from my year in high school have passed away. Every time one of them died, I felt obligated, as a writer and friend, to eulogize them somehow, if not for others at least for myself. But every time I come to the keys for it, I... can't somehow. Something inside me stops.
Howell died in a fire he should have been able to escape from. Justin Ong died in a car accident driving his girlfriend back from a party. Thomas, one of the first people I called friend and meant it, was murdered by men who came to kill his father. I wished I could say something but I couldn't. When people told me about them, all I could do was sit in my room and remember what they looked like, and realize that that was the only way I'd ever get to see them again.
And today I hear about Justin. I think back to the last time I saw him, which was when I had lunch with him last week. He was a tall, lanky guy with hair all over the place with a smile that did nothing to hide his peerless goof. If you could imagine a walking tree on some kind of magical drug, you'd be seeing him somewhat the way I see him. The kid was smart, though, damn, he was smart. A 4.0 from CMU isn't anything to sneeze at. He was supposed to fly back to college today.
That he was found dead in a bathroom of his house on the day of his flight and that his family had him cremated immediately, that's all I know, and apparently that's all anyone knows right now. I really hope his death was as accidental as it's being told because God - God, he was my friend, I didn't want him to die alone.
All of them died back home. Every time I found out, I was away. It didn't make me any less grieving, but I wish I had someone to... cry with. Someone who knew them too. Not just someone who knew what it was like to lose someone, but someone who knew what it was like to lose Thomas, or Justin. I want to go to their parents, their brothers, sisters, friends and people who knew them and loved them and will spend the rest of their lives wishing they'd done something differently and tell them that I will miss them too. I will.
And I don't think this ever really gets said enough. Life is fast, too fast sometimes for some of us to see where it's going or who gets left behind. And I don't care what Hobbes says about it. It's short, but it's definitely not nasty and brutish. It's beautiful. And everyone that goes reminds us that we've got to go on loving for them. To fill the gaps and voids where they used to be. We've got to do it for Howell and Thomas and Justin and Justin and everyone else. It's all we can do.
I love you, every single one of you.