One moment I’m bawling because the book I’m reading brought up the pain of the loss of my dad and the next, I found myself thinking of my grandma and how she would do the exact same things I was doing as I battled with the burning bottom of a saucepan. They never really leave us.
I put it off long enough, I suppose. But by God! If it isn’t hard opening the envelope with my papa’s death pension check from SSS.
Spectating isn’t my thing. At least not for some sports. If my sibling asked me to watch her run a marathon, I’m highly likely to say no—not that I don’t want to cheer her on and support her, it’s just that I’d rather be out there running than cheering in the sidelines. While that is …
A friend’s father passed away yesterday. I felt crushed at the news. We are not particularly close, this friend and I, but friendly enough. My heart broke for him, his mom, his siblings. They seemed like a family similar to mine: close and loving, and probably quirky as hell too. I said a prayer for …
I cannot love fleetingly I cannot love lightly I love with all that I am Fiercely and with all the passion in my being That is why I love very few You sit at either extremes Being unbelievably lucky or unfortunate As the recipient of my love
Crying because I’m in pain doesn’t do anything to help but I’m doing it anyway.
Everyday pop. Everyday. More so this Sunday.