Thursday, August 19, 2010

Yield

Dear God, this morning when i woke up, it felt like any other morning. i felt the same way about going to work, prayed for the same things, wanted the same things.

Yesterday felt like any other yesterday, and tomorrow felt like any other tomorrow.

But as the seconds ticked away, it dawned on me that it wasn’t just another day.

Today was the day I started thinking about the yesterdays. About what I’ve done and what I could’ve done or done instead. About the people around me, about the strangers that passed me by, about the acts that people do and about things that people say.

You are the only one that knows what goes through my head every second. The guilt that never leaves me, the regret that haunts me every chance my mind goes blank, the silence that takes over, the tears that wells up over the times i laugh, smile, and talk like i am the happiest person on earth, free from worries, having the time of my life.

They’ve been telling me to let go. But it’s not as easy as it sounds is it? And the harder i try, the more i remember. And my life is almost ruled by guilt. You know i don’t speak of certain things because of it, almost as if i am not worthy. And maybe i’m not. I can’t be, not after what i’ve done, and even more so of what i didn’t do.

You said you’d forgive if we did. Would you still if I couldn’t?

I used to be so sure of myself, so sure of where i was headed. That’s probably why you had to send something smacking in my face to wake me up. It sure did, and now I am completely lost. The whys that i have been asking has finally run out.

And so the only thing that i can do now is to yield.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Happy Birthday

I remember you when I'm kneeling in front of the cross.

I remember you when I'm driving on unfamiliar roads, when you were the one I'd call when I got lost.

I remember you when I see cookie, when you'd hug her no matter how stinky she gets.

I remember you when it's August, when you'll ask us to go out for dinner, when you don't tell us you want a present. But your face lights up like a child during Christmas when we give you something.

I've been thinking about how you would be like today. I'm thinking you'd probably be complaining about how you've reached the big 3-0 and yet at the same time kick anyone who'd even try to suggest that you were getting old.

I remember you every single day.

It's been six months, but it feels like yesterday.

Every single memory recollected is so clear.

If you're happy now, it's all that matters.

But I would never know until I see you again.

And though God's gifts are greater than one could ever imagine, I still wished it'd never happened.

Happy Birthday to the one who would always be 29.