‹ Prequel: 101 Reasons
Fourteen Sundays
Third Sunday
Aya
But it’s no use going back to yesterday
Because I was a different person then
-Alice, Alice in Wonderland
It’s been a year since Ann died, the last time I went to her grave was during her burial and never, not even once, had I visited her grave since then.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, basically to run away from remembering her. I don’t want to remember Ann as someone who died. No. I want to remember her living and that’s how I plan to keep her memory.
I fumbled through the heaps of paper in front of me cursing under my breath for not filing it into their respective piles.
“Aya I told you, you don’t have to take that Advanced Physics subject! You’re already taking more subjects than you’re supposed to”
I dismissed mom’s word. I swear I know where this lecture is going.
“You have to deal with Aya. Cry if you want to. Don’t run away from it. It’s the only way that you can move on.”
“Mom did you see my report on English Lit? It has a blue and red clip on it. I need to pass that tomorrow.” I replied totally ignoring mom.
“Aya! Look at me!”
“Mom! I need to find those papers if not I’m screwed!”
“Aya! What happened to the girl who never worries even if she lost her homeworks thinking that she can get it done in about a minute?”
I didn’t answer. Sure, I never worry about academics. But this time I did worry.
“What happened to you Aya? It seems like you’re pretending to be okay when you’re not.”
I didn’t answer.
“I see you haven’t visited Ann yet.”
I became psychologically mute every time mom talks about Ann, she stops and change the subject every once in a while because she know it might hurt my feelings. But today she seems to rub it on my face that my best friend in the whole world is dead.
“Can we please talk about something else.”
“She’s not coming back sweetie, you have to say goodbye. Sometimes in life it isn’t the good things that you remember, and you don’t have to remember the bad things either. But something inevitable as death should be remembered in a good way. It’s how you move on, you should accept that Ann did not want to die, but as I said death is inevitable, she had no choice. So you must let her go.”
I stood up looked at my mom and see pity in her eyes.
“Why the hell can’t I find a single piece of that report? I am so gonna flunk!”
The next few days were a blur. Mom is back to normal again, meaning no bringing up Ann again. But she doesn’t talk to me anymore, she talks, but not the usual “how’s school?”, “how’s Lee?”, “how did your presentation go?”
Nope. She said nothing. By Saturday, when I thought everything is falling right back on its usual pace I received a letter from Ann.
It came out of nowhere really, just when I was about to go home, I planned to get some books in my locker and when I opened it an envelope fell out from my locker.
I noticed that it is photocopied but I know her handwriting, I know how she dots her Is, I know how she carefully crosses her Ts. I know how every curl and every line she makes.
In her always neat writing she wrote; Third Sunday
My hands trembled. With fear but mostly with sadness. I walked without direction; I didn’t know where I was going. In my hand was her letter. I didn’t open it until out of nowhere I noticed where my feet dragged me.
I am by the creek somewhere in the park, a large sycamore tree covered Ann’s grave and just a few meters away was Ann’s favorite park bench. I didn’t know how they managed to bury her there. I didn’t know, until I met the one who did.
“I haven’t see you visit her.”
I know I’ve seen him, but my mind cannot place where I saw his face.
“I remember you though. What took you so long to visit?”
“School stuff.”
“Your friend Ann has been a great help with Sierra. You should’ve seen the look in my little girl’s eyes when Ann gave her a wig.” He smiled, his eyes gazing up in the sky, as if he can still see her, as if he can still see the little girl’s look from up there.
“To show Ann my thanks I want her to rest in a place where she loves, so I bought this little sanctuary for her. So the one’s she left behind can talk to her comfortably. As if she’s there, sitting beside them too.”
I didn’t answer I just stood there, feeling the breeze in my face. Pretending not to feel Ann’s presence.
“I’ll go ahead then, so you two can catch up.” He kissed Ann’s gravestone as if she was her own daughter and he whispered, “Take care of Sierra for me, and tell her mom that I miss her so much. I miss them so much.”
And then he was gone, I sat beside her gravestone and leaned my back on the tree. “So it all comes to this huh?”
The letter is still clutched in my hand, but after a while I decided to read it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aya,
When I’m gone I need you to toughen up so you can fight for yourself alone. Ok I know you’re going to totally kill me because of that first sentence but hey, you’ll probably never going to read this if things turn out differently. (Which I hope and pray it will) but if not here it goes.
You know what day it is Aya? Well as of the moment it is February 8 the same day last year that I found out I had cancer. I often times wonder how will it be like if things were done differently, you know, if I hadn’t been the b1tch I was then, if I lived life in a good way, if my whole being was different. I wonder if February 8 will be different. But I think that if it did change chances are everything will change and probably I might not be able to meet you at all. Do you know the funny part? I will rather have cancer than to not meet you.
And you know what I discovered? I found a picture of us. I pasted a copy here in my letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But nothing was pasted, instead there was a big space that maybe, it is where the picture was placed. I was holding the envelope when suddenly something fell out from it. It was our picture. Ann and I smiling, it was the first day that we met about 10 years ago.
I read her letter again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you are keen enough to look at the date writer below the picture, you would see that the first time ever that we met, was February 8. So I thought if I wanted last year’s February 8 to be different then the rest of February 8s would’ve been different as well. And if that happened we wouldn’t have that picture. I hope you get what I mean; you know how I am with words. I am not smart as you.
Anyway, after learning that we met February 8 and I also found out I had cancer February 8 I wonder whether to hate it or not. I didn’t, because it will always be the happy memories that I’ll want to hold forever. But that doesn’t mean I’ll act as if nothing happened that 8th of February. I won’t pretend to be ok coz I have cancer, so instead of dwelling on the pain.
The time the doctor told me I have cancer, I locked myself up in my room, held that very picture you’re looking at in my hands and said, “February 8 was the day I met Aya.” And the load somehow became lighter. And with people around me, supporting me in every way, I know I can do this. And never did I hate February 8.
I know you Aya, if you ended up reading this then maybe I’m not meant to stay with you anymore. And you have to accept that. You should face it and not run away from it. It’s the only way you can live happier. You are my best friend in the whole wide world (please don’t let Lee read this). And me dying doesn’t stop that.
Be strong. Thank you for everything.
Prettier than you,
Ann
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I felt hot tears streaming down my face, it was the first time I ever cried again.
“Did you think that a single letter will fix everything?” I laughed sarcastically, “You’re still the most selfish brat in the world. You’re not the one who’s left behind! You are not the one have to wake up every morning convincing yourself that it will eventually be ok!”
Tears that I held on for so long started to drop one by one from eyes, as if they'll never stop. "I've changed Ann! I'm not the Aya you used to know! And whatever they say, whatever you say, it will never help me go back to who I was before. The Aya you knew isn't me anymore."
I was about to throw the letter away when the picture fell in my hands and landed above Ann’s gravestone.
And that’s when I realized,
It’s 4:45 PM
February 8,2011.
But it’s no use going back to yesterday
Because I was a different person then
-Alice, Alice in Wonderland
It’s been a year since Ann died, the last time I went to her grave was during her burial and never, not even once, had I visited her grave since then.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, basically to run away from remembering her. I don’t want to remember Ann as someone who died. No. I want to remember her living and that’s how I plan to keep her memory.
I fumbled through the heaps of paper in front of me cursing under my breath for not filing it into their respective piles.
“Aya I told you, you don’t have to take that Advanced Physics subject! You’re already taking more subjects than you’re supposed to”
I dismissed mom’s word. I swear I know where this lecture is going.
“You have to deal with Aya. Cry if you want to. Don’t run away from it. It’s the only way that you can move on.”
“Mom did you see my report on English Lit? It has a blue and red clip on it. I need to pass that tomorrow.” I replied totally ignoring mom.
“Aya! Look at me!”
“Mom! I need to find those papers if not I’m screwed!”
“Aya! What happened to the girl who never worries even if she lost her homeworks thinking that she can get it done in about a minute?”
I didn’t answer. Sure, I never worry about academics. But this time I did worry.
“What happened to you Aya? It seems like you’re pretending to be okay when you’re not.”
I didn’t answer.
“I see you haven’t visited Ann yet.”
I became psychologically mute every time mom talks about Ann, she stops and change the subject every once in a while because she know it might hurt my feelings. But today she seems to rub it on my face that my best friend in the whole world is dead.
“Can we please talk about something else.”
“She’s not coming back sweetie, you have to say goodbye. Sometimes in life it isn’t the good things that you remember, and you don’t have to remember the bad things either. But something inevitable as death should be remembered in a good way. It’s how you move on, you should accept that Ann did not want to die, but as I said death is inevitable, she had no choice. So you must let her go.”
I stood up looked at my mom and see pity in her eyes.
“Why the hell can’t I find a single piece of that report? I am so gonna flunk!”
The next few days were a blur. Mom is back to normal again, meaning no bringing up Ann again. But she doesn’t talk to me anymore, she talks, but not the usual “how’s school?”, “how’s Lee?”, “how did your presentation go?”
Nope. She said nothing. By Saturday, when I thought everything is falling right back on its usual pace I received a letter from Ann.
It came out of nowhere really, just when I was about to go home, I planned to get some books in my locker and when I opened it an envelope fell out from my locker.
I noticed that it is photocopied but I know her handwriting, I know how she dots her Is, I know how she carefully crosses her Ts. I know how every curl and every line she makes.
In her always neat writing she wrote; Third Sunday
My hands trembled. With fear but mostly with sadness. I walked without direction; I didn’t know where I was going. In my hand was her letter. I didn’t open it until out of nowhere I noticed where my feet dragged me.
I am by the creek somewhere in the park, a large sycamore tree covered Ann’s grave and just a few meters away was Ann’s favorite park bench. I didn’t know how they managed to bury her there. I didn’t know, until I met the one who did.
“I haven’t see you visit her.”
I know I’ve seen him, but my mind cannot place where I saw his face.
“I remember you though. What took you so long to visit?”
“School stuff.”
“Your friend Ann has been a great help with Sierra. You should’ve seen the look in my little girl’s eyes when Ann gave her a wig.” He smiled, his eyes gazing up in the sky, as if he can still see her, as if he can still see the little girl’s look from up there.
“To show Ann my thanks I want her to rest in a place where she loves, so I bought this little sanctuary for her. So the one’s she left behind can talk to her comfortably. As if she’s there, sitting beside them too.”
I didn’t answer I just stood there, feeling the breeze in my face. Pretending not to feel Ann’s presence.
“I’ll go ahead then, so you two can catch up.” He kissed Ann’s gravestone as if she was her own daughter and he whispered, “Take care of Sierra for me, and tell her mom that I miss her so much. I miss them so much.”
And then he was gone, I sat beside her gravestone and leaned my back on the tree. “So it all comes to this huh?”
The letter is still clutched in my hand, but after a while I decided to read it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aya,
When I’m gone I need you to toughen up so you can fight for yourself alone. Ok I know you’re going to totally kill me because of that first sentence but hey, you’ll probably never going to read this if things turn out differently. (Which I hope and pray it will) but if not here it goes.
You know what day it is Aya? Well as of the moment it is February 8 the same day last year that I found out I had cancer. I often times wonder how will it be like if things were done differently, you know, if I hadn’t been the b1tch I was then, if I lived life in a good way, if my whole being was different. I wonder if February 8 will be different. But I think that if it did change chances are everything will change and probably I might not be able to meet you at all. Do you know the funny part? I will rather have cancer than to not meet you.
And you know what I discovered? I found a picture of us. I pasted a copy here in my letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But nothing was pasted, instead there was a big space that maybe, it is where the picture was placed. I was holding the envelope when suddenly something fell out from it. It was our picture. Ann and I smiling, it was the first day that we met about 10 years ago.
I read her letter again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you are keen enough to look at the date writer below the picture, you would see that the first time ever that we met, was February 8. So I thought if I wanted last year’s February 8 to be different then the rest of February 8s would’ve been different as well. And if that happened we wouldn’t have that picture. I hope you get what I mean; you know how I am with words. I am not smart as you.
Anyway, after learning that we met February 8 and I also found out I had cancer February 8 I wonder whether to hate it or not. I didn’t, because it will always be the happy memories that I’ll want to hold forever. But that doesn’t mean I’ll act as if nothing happened that 8th of February. I won’t pretend to be ok coz I have cancer, so instead of dwelling on the pain.
The time the doctor told me I have cancer, I locked myself up in my room, held that very picture you’re looking at in my hands and said, “February 8 was the day I met Aya.” And the load somehow became lighter. And with people around me, supporting me in every way, I know I can do this. And never did I hate February 8.
I know you Aya, if you ended up reading this then maybe I’m not meant to stay with you anymore. And you have to accept that. You should face it and not run away from it. It’s the only way you can live happier. You are my best friend in the whole wide world (please don’t let Lee read this). And me dying doesn’t stop that.
Be strong. Thank you for everything.
Prettier than you,
Ann
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I felt hot tears streaming down my face, it was the first time I ever cried again.
“Did you think that a single letter will fix everything?” I laughed sarcastically, “You’re still the most selfish brat in the world. You’re not the one who’s left behind! You are not the one have to wake up every morning convincing yourself that it will eventually be ok!”
Tears that I held on for so long started to drop one by one from eyes, as if they'll never stop. "I've changed Ann! I'm not the Aya you used to know! And whatever they say, whatever you say, it will never help me go back to who I was before. The Aya you knew isn't me anymore."
I was about to throw the letter away when the picture fell in my hands and landed above Ann’s gravestone.
And that’s when I realized,
It’s 4:45 PM
February 8,2011.