Epilogue
. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

Isn't it fascinating that our lives are scripted by the Creator Himself, yet our choices, our mistakes, how we end, and how we begin again are ultimately up to us?

Noon, hindi ko ito lubusang maintindihan. Akala ko ay lahat ng nangyayari sa buhay ko ay ayon sa plano N'ya. Ang mga masasamang pangyayari, ang mga kabiguan, at ang mga pagkakataon kung saan sumuko ako ay dahil ito ang umaayon sa mga plano N'ya para sa akin—o p'wede rin na dahil binibigyan N'ya tayo ng free will na pumili ng mga desisyon—masama man ito o mabuti. Pero iniisip ko rin na lubos na mas masakit siguro para sa Kan'ya kapag nasasaktan din tayo sa mundong ito.

When I became a writer. . .I finally understood Him. I cared for my characters a lot. Hindi ko rin gusto kapag nasasaktan sila—pero ayaw kong hindi sila magbabago kahit patapos na ang storya. I've realized that I didn't make my characters go through suffering just because I want to but because it's the only way they could find who they are in this world. Sa pagkakamali sila natututo, sa kabiguan sila nagkakaroon ng lakas bumangon muli, at sa mga katapusan sila nagkakaroon ng rason para magsimula ulit.

I was threading their stories but I let them tangle and unravel themselves on their own. I wasn't a good writer just like Himself—because sometimes, I let my own selfishness win over me. I don't listen to my characters, mas nakikinig pa ako sa mga sinasabi sa akin ng mga nasa paligid ko. I forgot the main reason why I'm writing. I find myself lost in the path that I was so sure of.

Kung ako ang guro, totoo nga na sila ang gumagawa ng grades nila. My characters are not just characters. They are bits and pieces of all the people around me. They are the outcry of the words I couldn't speak. They are the manifestation of the people I couldn't become.

"Magaling na writer ang Mama mo," sabi ni Sir Arnold, ang head editor sa aming team. "Kaya hindi ko lubusang maisip kung bakit hindi ka kasing galing n'ya."

I let out a long exhale, barely coming out as a whisper. Ilang beses ko na itong narinig mula rin sa mga beteranong manunulat na nakakasalamuha ko sa industriyang ito. Noon ay nagagawa ko pang gawing peke ang mga ngiti ko at sabayan ang pangiinsulto nila, but I gradually learn that you don't really win when you let others freely disrespect you.

Hindi mo lang hinahayaan na apakan ka ng iba, pati ang sarili mo ay tinatanggalan mo ng kakampi.

"Eh, kung gusto n'yo po ay si Mama na ang pagsulatin n'yo. P'wede naman po 'yon eh," I laughed, with a hint of mockery. "Ang tanong ay afford n'yo po ba ang fee n'ya?"

He didn't speak, his voice didn't raise at all. Nanatiling nakatikom ang bibig n'ya at ang pagtitipa lang ni Riley sa laptop nito ang tanging ingay sa loob ng mismong conference room namin.

Oh, fuck it.

Maghahanda na siguro ako ng resignation letter ko mamaya.

I always say that, in my mind at least. Pero kapag hindi ko naman na kaharap ang panot na si Arnold ay wala na rin naman sa isip ko ang tuluyan na mag-resign. I find it difficult to give up on something that made me keep on going. . .which is writing.

Nag-commute lang ako patungo sa village kung saan ako nakatira. Imbis na magpasundo ay sumakay na lang din ako ng trike kahit doble ang pamasahe ko. Wala naman kasing babaan na kanto sa amin, special trip talaga ang sagot sa daan patungo sa aming bahay.

When I arrived at the front of our house, the smell of freshly watered grass entered my nostrils. Napakapit ako sa aking bag. I really miss going home here. Tuwing weekends lang kasi ako nakakabisita rito dahil rumerenta ako ng isang condo unit malapit sa trabaho ko. I was a content writer at a Digital Publishing company.

Binuksan ko na ang gate gamit ang duplicate key na binigay sa akin ni Mama. Bukas lahat ng ilaw, kahit sa second floor ay nagliliwanag. Ibig sabihin nito ay may kasama si Mama sa bahay. . .it was probably Nicholas, who is currently studying at a film school. Baka umuwi rin ang nakababatang kapatid ko. But maybe Mama opened the lights because she was feeling alone.

"Kechia, kamusta ang araw mo?" Sinalubong ako ni Mama. Nagpunas siya ng kamay sa towel na nakapulupot sa hawakan ng refrigerator.

Napangiti ako. It was heartwarming that she knows it was me, na para bang alam n'yang uuwi ako ngayong gabi para sa kan'ya. The smell of the tomato sauce, oil, and beef spreads through the air. Halos maglaway ako dahil paborito ko ang caldereta at nagluto nito si Mama.

Nagmano ako sa kan'ya bago ngumuso. "May nangaaway sa akin, Mama. Nakakainis lang kasi noon ay nanghingi pa siya sa akin ng libro mo na may dedication tapos ngayon ay papahirapan n'ya ang buhay ko?"

Kung alam ko lang na hindi ako tatantanan ng panot na 'yon ay hindi ko na sana sinabing si Athanacia Conjuanco ang nanay ko, eh. Hinayaan ko na sana na malaman na lang n'ya tapos mabibigla siya na yung binubully n'ya pa lang newly hired ay anak ng isa sa mga kilalang writers sa Pilipinas. Edi 'who you' sana siya sa akin ngayon!

Mama pouted her lips. Doon ay nakita ko ang itsura ko. We had the same eyes, nose bridge, and lips. Naalala ko nga ay Nacia Liit ang tawag sa akin noon nila Ninang Ruby at Ninang Mineth. Madalas na nauuto ko rin ang mga tao sa paligid ko dahil mukha raw akong inosente, tapos kapag nagiging close na kami ay sinasabi na nila na kaugali ko raw ang tatay ko.

Tangina, compliment ba 'yon?

"Sabi ko naman sa 'yo ay huwag ka na magtrabaho eh, aalagaan ko na lang kayo rito sa bahay. Malaki-laki na rin naman ang ipon ko, at kung gusto n'yo ibigay ko ang password ng mga cards ko para magamit n'yo rin," ani Mama.

"As if naman papayag ako?!" I playfully glared at her. "Kaya nga ako nagtatrabaho dahil gusto ko na mabibili natin ang mga gusto mo. I want to spoil you. . .just like how Papa did."

Ang totoo n'yan ay maswerte si Mama sa buhay. I don't mean that she's lucky because she was born with wealthy parents or she was surrounded with love and care since birth; she's lucky because she found her passion and her lover at the same time. Palagi n'yang pinagmamalaki na childhood sweethearts daw sila ni Papa.

Which, tinatanggi naman ni Ninang Ruby at Ninang Mineth. Sa college lang daw nagkakilala ang parents ko kaya hindi nila alam kung bakit sabi ni Mama sa akin ay childhood sweethearts sila.

"Gawa-gawa kwento talaga 'yang Mama mo, palibhasa'y best selling writer." Umismid si Ninang Ruby noon. Naalala ko lang dahil isa sila sa mga madalas kong kausapin dahil sa proyekto na ginagawa ko.

Athanacia Conjuanco had written a total of twenty books in her life, hindi pa kasama roon ang mga scripts na sinulat n'ya para sa mga pelikulang ginawa nila ni Papa. It was mostly about slice of life and it tackles how you can move forward even when life acts off script.

Hindi ko talaga maintindihan si Mama sa tuwing sinasabi n'ya ang mga katagang 'yon. What does she mean if life acts off script? Ilang buwan ko na siyang kausap para sa proyektong sinusulat ko ngayon pero para siyang librong mahirap buklatin dahil puno ng highfalutin. Pakiramdam ko tuloy ay si Papa lang ang nakakaintindi sa kan'ya.

It's just sad that Papa's not around anymore.

Wala nang nakakaintindi kay Nacia.

I remember that day all too well, as if it was a bookmarked page of my favorite book. It was as if it was annotated as the most tearjerking plot twist that I had to experience in this life. Bata pa ako no'ng nawala si Papa. I didn't even have any last words with him. It was a death that even the skies mourned for.

It was a cold calm morning when Papa didn't wake up after suffering a heart attack in his sleep. Noon pa man ay may iniinda na siyang sakit pero ayaw n'yang magpa-check up no'ng bata pa siya, we later found out that ever since he was a child, he already had a pre-existing heart condition. Ilang buwan naming hindi makausap si Mama. Hindi rin siya makapagsalita. She would isolate herself from the world, as if she knew that once again the world has failed to make her happy.

Walang pamamaalam. Walang huling halik. Walang salitang binigkas para sa amin. He was only fifty five years old when he left us. I was in college when that happened. . .but I felt like I was still a child when he left because he has always been my favorite person.

I vividly remember our moments, it flashed through my eyes as if those were my favorite scenes in a movie.

"Basta sasabihin mo kung may gusto kang bilhin ha?" Papa gently raked his fingers on my hair, trying to untangle some of the strands.

"Wala po."

His frown deepened. "Eh, kailangan? Baka may kailangan ka pero hindi ka nagsasabi? Huwag ka mahihiya magsabi sa akin, ha."

I looked at the ceiling, which was filled with glowing stars because of the night light that my Mama bought for me. Ang sabi ni Mama ay gusto n'ya na kahit sa dilim ay may kasama akong ilaw, she doesn't want me to feel alone. Kung hindi nga dahil sa clingy si Papa, hindi siguro ako bubukod ng kwarto eh. Kaso, inaagaw ko raw ang bebe time ni Papa kay Mama kaya may sariling kwarto na ako ngayon.

I smiled to myself.

I want to spend more time with Papa.

I tilted my head and my Papa's face brightened, para bang natuwa siya dahil may naisip ako na p'wede n'yang ibigay para sa akin.

"Papa, p'wede ako sumama sa taping?" I asked, as I leaned towards him. Nakahiga na kasi ako ngayon. Pinapatulog na lang n'ya ako kahit galing pa siya sa trabaho.

"Oo naman." He chuckled. "Bakit hindi? Wala ka namang pasok bukas ano? Itatakas kita sa Mama mo, ha?"

I nodded eagerly, my small hands were clutching on my blanket, as I was trying to hide my giggles. Natawa rin tuloy si Papa at hinalikan ang noo ko. His eyes glistened, as if he was crying. Hindi ko alam pero palaging ganto ang itsura ni Papa, it was as if I was a treasure that he doesn't want to share with others.

He never made me feel that I was not his priority. Kahit kay Mama ay ganito rin siya. Palaging pamilya ang inuuna n'ya kaya naman malapit ang loob ko sa kan'ya.

Papa would smile at me, pat my head, and gently caressed my back as if to remind me that I was truly never alone in this world. Kahit nasa malayo siya ay alam kong may kakampi ako. He would never abandon me. He would always be there for me.

Until that fateful day happened, hanggang sa hindi ko man lang nasabing 'good night' dahil pagod din ako galing sa school. Imbis na kamustahin ko ang araw n'ya ay dumeretso na ako sa kwarto para matulog. I thought that I would be able to greet him in the morning. . .

Hindi ko na pala maririnig ang boses n'ya sa umaga.

My  final project for my current company is to create a biography of my mother. Noon kasi ay sumikat sila ni Papa dahil naka-dokumentaryo ang pagmamahal nila. Each photo curated by my father had ever lasting captions that expressed how deeply he feels for my mother.

My father was known for his harsh documentaries, often targeting the government for its negligence. He even helped the authorities to put his own father behind closed bars. Ilang awards na rin ang napanalunan n'ya dahil dito kaya naman nanibago ang lahat ng matagpuan ang lover boy side ng aming Papa. Nicholas would even raise a brow upon learning that Papa really had a soft side for our mother. Nakakatuwa lang dahil namana ni Nicholas ang pagiging masungit ni Papa kaya naman inaasar ko siya na nakikita ko na ang future n'ya kapag nagka-girlfriend na siya.

Whipped and down bad.

Nagpaalam naman ako kay Mama kung papayag siya rito at wala naman siyang pagaalinlangan na nagbigay ng permiso. She even gave me some of the recordings that my father had.

"Mamaya ay punta tayo sa kwarto ng Papa mo," mahinang usal ni Mama habang hinahandaan kami ng hapunan. "Hindi ko pa ginagalaw ang mga naiwan n'yang tape roon. B-baka may makita kang p'wede mong magamit para sa sinusulat mo."

Umangat ang tingin ko kay Mama, I knew that this was a painful topic for her. Alam ko na ilang taon na ang nagdaan at nakapagsulat na siya ng halos limang libro pero hanggang ngayon ay nangungulila pa rin siya sa pagkawala ni Papa.

"Sure po ba kayo? P'wede namang mag-focus na lang tayo sa writing journey mo, Mama," I said as I took a table napkin to wipe the excess oil on my lips. "Maiintindihan naman 'yon ng mismong publisher."

She smiled at me, her smile was filled with serenity. "Your father is a huge part of my writing journey. He is my beginning and end, Kechia."

Our gazes were completely locked in with each other. Natutop ang labi ko dahil kahit alam kong masakit para kay Mama ang muling balikan ang mga alaala ni Papa; hindi siya nag-atubiling bigyan ako ng access sa mga naiwan nitong recordings o mga larawan.

After we ate our dinner, tumulong ako magligpit ng aming pinagkainan. I was rinsing the plates when I remembered that this was something that Papa taught me—he always reminded me to help Mama because she never asked for one. Pinalaki n'ya akong may pagkukusa dahil alam n'yang sasarilihin lang ni Mama lahat ng gawain sakaling wala pa si Papa. It was only him who knew Mama when she's reeling in her silence.

"Tapos na ako maghugas, Mama," I called her as I wipe my hands on the hand towel near me.

Wala siyang naging tugon kaya naman sinundan ko na siya patungo sa ikalawang palapag ng aming bahay. This house was built by them, ito ang unang naging puhunan nilang dalawa bilang mag-asawa. It wasn't a big one per se, but it was homey, it was a home that rests my heart, my mind, and even my soul. Ang tanging ingay na naririnig sa bahay namin ay ang mga kamustahan at tawanan; there was never a scream of pain, or yelling of agony. Kaya matuturing ko rin ang sarili ko na maswerte dahil sila ang mga naging magulang ko.

Nakaawang ang dulong pinto sa hallway, kaya naman agad ko na itong pinuntahan dahil nararamdaman ko na nandoon na si Mama at siguro ay nagkakalkal na ng mga gamit para sa ginagawa kong biography n'ya.  Unti-unti kong binuksan ang pinto at nakita si Mama na nakaupo sa sahig, ang mga kamay ay puno ng photo album na mula sa koleksyon ni Papa. I can hear her soft sobs, and the way her shoulders were trembling.

I let out a long sigh. "Mama naman. . .sabi ko naman sa 'yo ay ako na d'yan eh. Alam ko naman na hanggang ngayon ay mahirap para sa 'yo dahil siya ang naging sandalan mo ng mahabang panahon."

How do you grieve properly? Does grieving often lead to better chances of moving on over the loss of your life? Iniisip ko noon na lahat naman tayo ay iisa lang talaga ang hantungan; it was death and death all along. It's either you live your life to the fullest or regret not even trying to live it. I was sure that I grieved over my father's death, and I know that he had lived to the fullest when he was with us. He died with a peaceful smile on his face,  it was even if death betrayed him, he held no grudge because life gave him the best of everything.

My mother tightly embraced the living proof that my father was here, lahat ng mga photo album ay halos walang ni isang dumi o alikabok dahil palaging nililinis ni Mama. She dedicated a room just for the belongings of my father, matagal na rin itong hindi pinapagalaw ni Mama sa iba.

I know about their love story, it wasn't a smooth story to begin with. Pero ngayon ko pa lang nakikita kung gaano katatag ang naging pagmamahalan nilang dalawa dahil kahit nasa kabilang buhay na si Papa, nananatili siyang buhay para kay Mama.

I went to Mama's side, umupo na rin ako at nagsimulang tanggalin sa mga boxes ang mga natitirang photo album. I saw some CDs as well, each had markings that were almost half-faded. Umangat ang tingin ko at nakita ko na may mga nakasabit na polaroid. One was a picture of a younger Nacia holding her hair tightly as the waves behind her splashed freely, and the shadow on the sands mimicking my father's frame. Lumipat ang tingin ko sa isa pang polaroid, it was a picture of our family sitting in the ground ladened with grass as we took our family picnic. This room was filled with memories captured to exist for a lifetime.

Bumigat ang pakiramdam ko sa aking dibdib. Napagtantuan ko na mahirap nga talagang mag-stay sa loob ng kwarto na ito, pero hindi ito naging dahilan para hindi ingatan ni Mama ang mga natitirang alaala ni Papa sa amin.

"Your father likes taking pictures a lot," she laughed, her throat caught the faint sound of a sob. "Noon ay naiinis pa ako dahil kahit kumakain lang naman kami ay may litrato pa. . .but now I've realized that maybe sometimes the weight of a photo only matters when it's the only thing you have left."

I kept the bile on my throat from revealing my innermost feelings. I have already grieved over my father's death, ilang taon na kaming nabubuhay nang wala ang presensya n'ya. I have long accepted that it was a short but meaningful life.

Ngumiti nang malungkot si Mama. "Naalala ko noon, ang sabi ng Papa mo ay sana kapag may unang aalis sa amin sa mundo, hindi raw ako ang mauna. Because he thought that I was much stronger than him. . .but the only reason I'm still here is because I don't want you and Nicholas to live this life without anyone to lean on."

"Mama naman. . ."

"Kechia," she said, almost a whisper. Her eyes spoke of loneliness as its gaze fell on me. "Writing itself is already a solitary career, I don't want you to feel more alone. I want you to know that I'm here, and I'll always be."

"Gano'n din naman si Papa," mahinang saad ko sa kan'ya. "He's always here too."

I never felt his absence, or maybe because I refused to accept that Papa is no longer part of my life. Kung minsan ay dadaan ako sa paborito naming tapsilogan, oorder ako ng mga paborito naming order-in. Hindi nawawala ang paghingi ko ng mainit na sabaw, at sa bawat paghigop ko nito ay maaalala ko kung paano ito hipan ni Papa para sa akin dahil masyado pang mainit.

In those little, warm, and quiet moments, I was able to feel how much my father loved me. I didn't have to achieve anything for him to treat me to a warm and good meal.

Unti-unti kong binuklat ang mga photo album na iniwan n'ya para sa akin. Each photo album held stories that served as vessels of what was once here, living and breathing in the same space we occupy.

The photos were beautifully taken. My fingers were itching to flip each page, trying to memorize each captured moment. My mother hugged my father from the back while he looked taken aback. Another shot was him kissing her on her cheeks while she's sporting a goofy grin, her eyes slanted in glee.

Napangiti ako. "You guys were so happy. . ."

Mama mirrored my smile. "Of course, it was the promise that your father never broke—he made me the happiest woman when we got married. Walang araw na tinanong ko sa sarili ko kung minahal n'ya ba ako—it was always me who's asking if I have loved him enough, if I was able to reciprocate the love he had given me."

Lumingon ako sa kan'ya. I saw how she's tracking Papa's signature on the photo albums. Unti-unting napawi ang ngiti n'ya at napalitan ito ng luha sa kan'yang mga mata.

"Kaya siguro magmula nang mawala siya, ang hirap para sa akin ang sumaya," she sobbed, as she clutched on the photo album once again. "He gave me so much to remember that it's hard to let him go."

I sighed and looked at the photo albums once again. Will I have to include this in her biography? Alam kong sikat na manunulat ang nanay ko; sa sobrang kilala n'ya ay maraming interesado sa buhay n'ya. Idagdag pa roon na asawa n'ya si Kiran Conjuanco, isa sa mga tanyag na director sa Pilipinas. But. . .will immortalizing her pain right now be worth all of it?

I slowly stood and brushed off the tiny particles of dust, I don't know how Mama can clean this up everyday. Hindi ko alam kung paano n'ya kinakaya na araw-araw tingnan ang mga larawan na kinuha ni Papa. I don't even watch his films anymore, and even Nicholas finds it hard to watch it.

I licked my lips and helped Mama stand too. Hawak pa rin n'ya ang mga photo albums sa kan'yang mga braso. She looked up to me and smiled, a semblance of sadness lingering to it.

"I want my biography to be filled with his name, I want everyone to know that I have loved only one man in this life aside from my own son," pakiusap n'ya sa akin. "And it's Kiran Conjuanco. It has always been him."

Kinagabihan ay hinayaan na ako ni Mama na magkalkal sa mga boxes na tinabi n'ya. Most of them were stacked with call sheets, some were old films, and the photo albums were neatly placed in each large box. Kinuha ko roon ang iilang DVDs, hinanap ko ang may mga nakalagay na sulat. Most of them are words written on a small tape—For Nacia.

Kinuha ko ang lahat ng may nakalagay na marka na 'For Nacia' at pumunta na sa living room namin upang ilagay ang mga DVD sa lumang DVD player na mukhang si Papa lang talaga ang gumagamit.

It was something strange about Papa, nauuso naman na noon pa man ang mga streaming sites but he always so old-fashioned. He used DVDs instead of just streaming the films; hindi ko rin alam kung bakit. . .at kung gusto ko mang malaman ay mukhang kay Mama ko na lang maririnig ang dahilan.

I wished I could have asked him personally when he was still around, na sana imbis tumutok ako sa cellphone ko ay kinausap ko na lang siya, kinamusta man lang, o sana ay minasahe dahil alam ko ang pagod n'ya sa buong araw.

My greatest regrets were not the ones that I did—but it was the moments that didn't happen because I didn't do anything.

I put the DVD inside the player and watched as the film slowly rolled out to play. There were static noises, and as soon as a younger version of Papa was on the screen, my cheeks found themselves being stained by my own tears. He was so young in the video, probably in his early 20's, kawangis n'ya si Nicholas pero mas mahaba ang kan'yang buhok.

"Hi! This short video is to be used for a documentary for my Nacia," sabi ni Papa sa harap ng camera, ngiting-ngiti. "Balak ko na bago ako mawala sa mundo ay gagawa ako ng isang pelikula na tungkol sa kan'ya. I don't care if it doesn't sell—all I want is for the world to know how irreversibly in love I am with that woman, she is someone that I would want to immortalize through this film."

Ang mga luhang pinipigilan kong tumulo ay trinaydor ako. I started to sob as I watched the film. Because even if I told myself that I have accepted that he's already gone, it doesn't diminish the fact that I miss him. I miss talking to him. I miss eating Tapsilog with him. I miss going home and seeing him looking at my mother so dearly, na para bang isang himala si Mama na inihandog ng langit sa kan'ya.

I miss my Papa.

"I want to introduce myself first. . .I'm Kiran Lemuel Conjuanco, and by the time I'm filming this, I am so sure that I'm only living to be loved by Athanacia Samonte. . .Conjuanco," he smiled to himself. He even bowed a bit to hide it but it was written all over his face—he was proudly in love with her.

"Nagkakilala kami no'ng college," sabi n'ya habang unti-unting kumunot ang noo. "At first? I was really taken aback by her boldness. Binigyan n'ya agad ako ng marriage certificate. . .but I found her cute. It made me think that she was someone that I had to protect."

I grabbed a box of tissue as I wiped my own tears. Kinuha ko rin ang throw pillow na nasa sofa at niyakap ito. Papa looked like Nicholas a lot, naka-clean cut lang si Nicholas kaya naman nagkakaroon pa rin ng kaunting pagkakaiba.

Nakakainis.

Naririnig ko pa lang ang boses n'ya ay parang bumabalik sa akin ang mga alaalang tinatago ko, I didn't want to cry over his absence but I do miss his presence a lot.

"It was easy to fall for Athanacia, it was harder not to. Even in her worst days, I could still see her kind soul. At kahit nasasaktan na siya, mas pipiliin na lang n'yang lumayo kaysa makapanakit ng iba. . ." Papa chuckled and shook his head. "Minsan nga iniisip ko turuan ko kaya 'to na maging masama ang ugali? Masyadong mabait eh."

I laughed along, as if I was still having a conversation with Papa. It was just a film, it was already frozen in time, but it felt like he was still alive and he was still telling me stories about my own mother. Pinalis ko ang mga luha ko.

"Her first work was stolen. . .actually, she sold it for her own brother," isinuwalat ni Papa habang lumamlam ang mga mata. "Ito na siguro ang unang pagkakataon na nakita ko kung paano nag-iba ang mundo ni Nacia. It was the time where I thought I knew her well. . .but I didn't know how to comfort her. Iba pala talaga kapag nabili na ng pera ang passion mo."

I licked my lips as I continued to watch my father tell me about their past. Siya naman ay nanatili lang ding nakaupo at matagal siyang nanahimik.

"I thought I knew our industry, akala ko ay mali siya dahil ibinenta n'ya ang tanging gawa n'ya sa maliit na halaga. . .that it was an amount she could have had in just a month if only she didn't sign a contract of giving up her rights. Pero sino ba ako para magsalita? We were different people and with different needs. . ." aniya.

Kinuwento rin ni Papa ang mga taong nasangkot sa pagbili sa unang script ni Mama. He freely dropped the names because as I've searched from the internet, mukhang ang mga tao na ito ay nakasuhan na rin ng iba't ibang writers dahil sa naging transactions nila. Most of the writers had to give up the full ownership of their works by intimidation and coercion. It was unfair and unjust, kaya naman na-blacklist ang mga tao na ito—one of the notable names were Pablo Bello, isa sa mga kilalang script writers sa Pilipinas.

"It's just sad how the people you thought would have your back are often the first ones to stab you when they can," Papa let out a long sigh. "It was Nacia's first heartbreak. . .but there was still a lot more for her to endure, and I'm beyond proud of her for going through lengths just so she could keep on writing."

"And I've realized that the ones who are truly successful in writing are not those who are awarded, it's not even measured by the amount of sales, and not even the recognition of other people are enough to call yourself a successful writer. . .you are only truly successful when you continue on writing despite all the pain, wounds, disappointments, and setbacks," he said in a gentle tone, a smile slipping on his lips.

"You are a writer because you write, that's it," sabi ni Papa at tumingin sa camera. "But sometimes writing also means quitting, letting go, and starting all over again. It's a complex career that only those who have the courage to write can stay."

I smiled to myself knowing that the ones who become known as great authors are those who kept on writing.

Papa never spoke of himself in the entire video, puro tungkol kay Mama. Her achievements, her favorite things, and the way how she deserves to be loved not only by him but by the entire world.

Inisa-isa ko ang mga video at halos lahat ay nagawang pabagsakin ang mga emosyon kong pilit na kinukubli. I wonder how easy it was for my father to make me cry? Ni hindi n'ya sinusubukan pero inuubos na n'ya ang mga luha ko.

There was a tape where he was filming Mama on a beach, the tune of 'Crazy For You' was playing as their feet were soaked in the crystalline water. Papalubog na ang araw, humahalo na ang kulay asul sa kahel na kalangitan. It was a beautiful moment for the both of them but it was shared with me. Pakiramdam ko ay nasa mismong lugar ako nang panoorin 'yon.

Then their wedding video played next. I saw Papa bow his head in prayer as soon as he saw my mother entering the chapel in her beautiful long white gown. The song in the background was 'Thank God I Found You' which made my lips pull apart. Doon ko na-realize na ang mga sumunod na video ay may mga kanta na. Halos nagningning ang paligid nila, it was magical and terrifyingly beautiful to see them both holding each other's hand as they spoke their vows to each other.

Halos mamula na ang mga mata ko dahil tinapos ko lahat ng mga DVDs na may nakalagay na 'For Nacia'. I finished them all in one night even when they were all unrefined, uncut, and untouched tapes that still needed a lot of editing. Ubos na ang luha ko nang matapos ko panoorin lahat ng kan'yang ginagawang video.

Agad akong nagtipa kay Nicholas ng mensahe. Maybe he can help with this? Maybe if. . .we turn this into a documentary then Mama can have something too. Mama's biography included a lot of Papa's personal memories, kaya naman kung may documentary para kay Mama. . .I feel like it would make sense.

Mama has written memories that would last as long as papers and ink exist; she wrote words that resonate with the people who read it. While through his lens, Papa captured memories meant to freeze time and pass on the feeling to those who would one day watch his masterpiece.

They were undeniably lovers written across the stars.

I picked up the DVDs, put them in a small bag, and went to my room to have a good rest. Sisimulan ko na bukas ang pagsusulat ng biography ni Mama at ibibigay ko naman ito kay Nicholas upang masimulan din n'ya ang page-edit. I know that he can do it, and we live comfortably so that we can afford to make a film even without the funding of big productions. Hindi naman ito gagawin para kumita, we're going to create it to share the love story of our parents—we want others to know how deeply they were in love with each other.

I slipped into my pajamas, an oversized shirt and cozy pants, for a much-needed break I knew I deserved. Kaya naman hindi na ako nagtaka no'ng tinanghali na ako ng gising, hindi rin naman ako ginambala nila Mama. Tinatabihan lang n'ya ako ng breakfast sakaling gusto ko na agad kumain at hindi pa luto ang lunch.

I went down the stairs, napalingon ako sa isang bookshelf kung saan nakahanay ang mga libro ni Mama. The sun was lightly beaming towards the shelf, casting its glow on the pages of her books. Napanguso naman ako, hindi ba ito magca-cause ng pagf-foxing ng mga libro n'ya? But my mother always told me that it's better to have books that are touched and opened, because it means it's being read.

As a book collector, mali ka dyan, Mama!

I wanted to refute her but my mother has a soft heart. Kaya nga minsan ay nagpapasalamat na lang talaga ako na si Papa ang ka-ugali ko. Isipin ko pa lang na kailangan mabait ako sa mga nanggagago sa akin ay masisiraan na siguro ako ng bait! Putangina nila lahat kung gano'n!

I went to the shelf, my forehead frowned as soon as I opened the first pages of the books. Lahat ng unang dedication ay para kay Papa, for the last five years she had dedicated her written works to him.

To Kiran,
It was hard to describe how it was easy to love you; but it was easy to describe how hard it was to let you go.

To Kiran,
I miss you. This book only happened because aside from writing, I don't know how to ease my loneliness and pain without you.

To Kiran,
I wish you could have taught me a lot of things before you left, like how to unclog a toilet, when to oil change, and how to comfort our children when they miss you. I love you, in time immemorial.

To Kiran,
Your name is my favorite noun. You're my favorite subject; it's easy to create a thousand word count when you're involved. And love, you're my favorite story to tell to the world. 

To Kiran,
We can't change the world but we can change our world and Kiran you've changed mine. See you soon, my love.

Napangiti ako habang binabasa ang mga dedication ni Mama para kay Papa. My favorite story in this world. . .is this story. The story of Nacia and Kiran who fought against the sorrow of being creatives in a practical world. Anak ako ng isang writer st ng isang director. I'll always be proud of that fact.

I started to write my mother's biography, collecting moments and memories to keep for as long as the words in this book alive. Doon ko napagtantuan na hindi tuluyang nawala si Papa. . .that he'll always be alive for as long as people read this book.

My father truly loved my mother since time immemorial—even after his time on earth had passed, he continued to show his love for her in ways that even death couldn't touch.

Kiran Conjuanco didn't truly leave the world because our words have kept him alive in every person who will read this book. He will always exist so long as the words that kept him immortalized are being read by someone—and the same goes to my own mother, Athanacia will always be loved so as long as the documentary is kept immortalized by others, their love will always exist.

Nicholas also started to work on the documentary. He even asked me the meaning of my father's first film. . .it was Act Off Script. Umangat ang tingin n'ya kay Mama na nanonood sa pagbaba ng araw. The sun was slowly setting down when my younger brother caught her attention.

"Mom. . .bakit Act Off Script yung title ng first film ni Papa? Did he tell you?" Nicholas asked, in his baritone voice. Nagbibinata na nga talaga.

His features were vivid, both manly and a fit feminine. Kadalasan ay napapadalawang lingon sa kan'ya ang mga tao dahil sa kagwapuhan n'ya. He would snob them not because he's naturally mean, but because he's shy. Mana ang ugali n'ya kay Mama eh.

Nasa balkonahe kami ngayon at umiinom ng tsaa habang ini-interview namin si Mama tungkol sa mga isusulat ko sa kan'yang biography. Kanina pa siya nakatitig sa kalangitan. The wind blew through her hair, and she smiled softly as the breeze stirred a gentle semblance of nostalgia.

Nakaupo ako at nasa harap ko ang aking laptop. I was finishing the biography when my brother asked that question. Umangat tuloy ang tingin ko sa kanila.

"Act Off Script means that we can create our own lines and our own actions despite the predestined expectations of those around us," she looked at us, her gaze softened. "You are the writer of your life and you can always act off script."

My fingers froze as the realization of her words dawned on me. I have encountered a lot of good writers in the industry I have entered, but no one else can write like Athanacia Conjuanco. . .her words will always trigger my innermost thoughts.

You can always act off script.

You can always choose what to do with your life.

There were no call sheets to chase for.

No lines to follow through.

No directors that you need to please.

Isn't it lovely that God gifted us a life that we can freely write; where every line, every scene, is ours to change, as if He handed us the script but left it for us to act?

I smiled at her as I slowly opened my word document and typed the last words that would immortalize our stories. "The end."