Hey, nana.
I’m here now.
Sorry… I was a bit too late.
Yes, I know—
I’m very late.
Now, I can’t see you anymore.
But guess what, nana?
I brought my people with me.
Well… not really my people,
but I’m trying, nana.
I’m trying real hard.
And you know what?
Even if they can be mean sometimes,
they’re good people.
I remembered what you told me once:
to live a good life,
surround yourself with good people.
I’m grateful for that.
Thank you for teaching me that lesson, nana.
Yes, I know…
they may not look like it,
but they are.
You taught me to be a good judge of soul.
Remember, nana?
Oh, and don’t mind these bruises and scars
covering me all over.
These are war paints,
a beautiful girl once said.
They show the hardships I’ve overcome.
See these calluses, nana?
Proof I don’t just laze around.
I work hard.
Not hardly working, alright?
Oh, how I wish I could tell you
more of my tales and poems.
You’d give me that half-smile
and your favorite cliché:
“Galing talaga ng apo ko.”
I know you didn’t always understand my work,
but your pride was always sincere.
Never just sugar for my ears.
That’s what I love about you, nana.
And now…
much like how they closed your coffin lid,
so too are the doors back to you.
Oh, how I wish you could’ve lived forever.
Maybe then, you’d see me
lead my own people, truthfully.
Maybe my tales wouldn’t just be tales,
my poems wouldn’t just be poems,
but anthems.
I wish there had been more time.
I wish I wasn’t late.
I wish I was there the moment you left.
Maybe—just maybe—
you would’ve gone past a hundred,
a hundred fifty,
or even a thousand years.
But that’s just my wishful thinking, nana.
I know.
What I should carry with me
is what you said about life,
about when you’d be gone.
It’s just…
it’s just so painful within.
It hurts, nana.
It truly does.
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