PAALAM RANDO
Aside from my ability to watch TV, read Milan Kundera's or Gabriel Garcia Marquez's, eat handful of peanuts or any chichiria, do homework and pull strands of hair in one breath, one of the few things that I can take pride of is my sharp memory. For so long a time, it has been my anchor to survive the turbulent waves of life. Time and again, it has proven to be my effective tool in asserting that I am a force to reckon with, as I could make my friends and former classmates pee in their pants by unearthing and reliving their Sub Rosa they are struggling to put six feet under their memories.
The only difficult thing about it is that it can never be overwhelmed. No matter how you try to bury your nightmares into oblivion, they would continuously hunt you. That has been my situation upon learning that Rando, a former classmate, fell prey to the misfortune.
It was exactly Rando's 26th birthday when it happened. Just went outside to buy some food to treat his friends, he was victimized by recless driving. He died struggling to hold on to his breath on the pavement of Nueva Ecija where he was working as an engineer. It was a life too short for a man whose dream was so immense.
Rando never complained. For the six years that we were together, I couldn't think of any instance where he had a fall out with one of my bully classmates. Whenever he was put into a bad light, he would just smile and shrug his shoulders. Patience it was that he used in dealing with the intricacies of life.
It was in the bus station that I last spoke to Rando. I was going back to Manila and he was reporting to his work in Nueva Ecija. I spent the whole time griping about the delay of the bus, while Rando was seriously planning to host a class reunion to trace the whereabouts of our classmates.
When at last the bus arrived, we went in separate ways with different thoughts hovering on our heads - I, still singing the blues of not arriving to Manila at my desired time, and Rando, excitedly outlining the framework for the reunion.
Rando will be absent in the reunion that he initiated. Yet, he will be with his memories indelibly etched on our minds.
Indeed, memories are all we have.
Aside from my ability to watch TV, read Milan Kundera's or Gabriel Garcia Marquez's, eat handful of peanuts or any chichiria, do homework and pull strands of hair in one breath, one of the few things that I can take pride of is my sharp memory. For so long a time, it has been my anchor to survive the turbulent waves of life. Time and again, it has proven to be my effective tool in asserting that I am a force to reckon with, as I could make my friends and former classmates pee in their pants by unearthing and reliving their Sub Rosa they are struggling to put six feet under their memories.
The only difficult thing about it is that it can never be overwhelmed. No matter how you try to bury your nightmares into oblivion, they would continuously hunt you. That has been my situation upon learning that Rando, a former classmate, fell prey to the misfortune.
It was exactly Rando's 26th birthday when it happened. Just went outside to buy some food to treat his friends, he was victimized by recless driving. He died struggling to hold on to his breath on the pavement of Nueva Ecija where he was working as an engineer. It was a life too short for a man whose dream was so immense.
Rando never complained. For the six years that we were together, I couldn't think of any instance where he had a fall out with one of my bully classmates. Whenever he was put into a bad light, he would just smile and shrug his shoulders. Patience it was that he used in dealing with the intricacies of life.
It was in the bus station that I last spoke to Rando. I was going back to Manila and he was reporting to his work in Nueva Ecija. I spent the whole time griping about the delay of the bus, while Rando was seriously planning to host a class reunion to trace the whereabouts of our classmates.
When at last the bus arrived, we went in separate ways with different thoughts hovering on our heads - I, still singing the blues of not arriving to Manila at my desired time, and Rando, excitedly outlining the framework for the reunion.
Rando will be absent in the reunion that he initiated. Yet, he will be with his memories indelibly etched on our minds.
Indeed, memories are all we have.
