Preserved. Remembered.

As usual, I’ve been avoiding blogging/writing here. There’s this battle between myself and my written (or in this case, word-processed) words. Bazillions of blog-gable topics race through my mind everyday; but aside from random laziness and utter chaos from work, emotions get the best of me and hinder me from going clickety-clack on the keyboard.

Jessica Darling in Meg McCafferty’s Fourth Comings said it perfectly:

Everything takes on greater weight when written down. It changes from ephemera in my mind to something tangible. Something meant to be preserved. Remembered.

2 Saturdays ago, my office mates and I were driving back to Manila from Tagaytay. I had a fun time with them drinking, playing cards, drinking, eating, drinking, laughing and oh, before I forget, drinking. Around 6 am, I got home. I slept through the morning and most of the afternoon. There were times that I woke up for a while feeling tired and sad that I just went back to sleep.

At around 5 pm, I finally got up from bed and surveyed the room. It eerily silent. The kind of silence that makes you feel a little down, as if you were expecting sunshine  and chirping birds but only crickets, uhm, “cricked” their tongues. And it didn’t help when I remembered what April 9 is for me.

It’s been 11 years since one of my closest high school friends, Candice, died in a horrible plane crash. A decade has passed but I can still see the scene of her burial and hear the cries of her family and friends. It was at her burial that I realized that big, dark sunglasses would be your greatest friend to shield your terrified and sad eyes as you watch a personification be enclosed in a memorial.

Candice, or Cands as I fondly called her, was one of the most cheery and optimistic folks I’ve ever met. No matter how some people teased her for being child-like (naive, they said) or personal problems rose, Cands was always facing them with a smile on her head held up high. I never got to tell her personally how deeply grateful I am for her support and encouraging words during trying times in my life. I never got to hug her tight. I never got to say my corny jokes and hear her go “Nyeeeh”. I miss her.

I call em Cands trinkets.

When I do miss Cands, I talk to her. Yep, I talk to her in my head. Bonkers I am, I know. But it feels good to ‘talk’ to Cands. Back then, when the going gets tough, the tough was Cands. I’d always wait for her advice or her random feel-good stories. And when I’m feeling extra reminiscent of my times with Cands, I either wear my candy blue beaded necklace with heart-shaped pendant or open up my jewelry box and stare at this gray and blue braided ring. Why? Well Cands was very artistic. She made her own accessories and clothes, mostly colorful ones. I bought my candy blue necklace during my 2nd year in high school and I proudly showed Cands my so-called unique and cute find. The braided ring? Cands made it for me. 🙂

In my perfect world, Cands would still be alive and we’d still be great friends. She’d have convinced me to pursue a writing career despite my doubt on my writing skills. She’d have graduated from UP with a major in Fine Arts. I would’ve tagged along with her to bazaars where she sold her funky, cute creations and to photo shoots where she’d be one of the stylists. Although in my perfect world, I’d be selfish to keep her away from Him. He has other plans for Cands and I. But that’s okay. She’ll still be in my thoughts and my heart, preserved…remembered.


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