The sky was a muted gray, casting a somber light over the sea of people gathered at Godspeed Garden Memorial Park. I stood at the front, just a few steps from the polished wooden casket adorned with white lilies and roses, flowers my father had always loved.

Lahat ng nakapaligid sa 'kin ay para bang malayo sa paningin ko. Para bang pinapanood ko lang sila mula sa bintana. Gano'n ang nararamdaman ko. The past days had blurred into one long, exhausting moment, each second carrying the weight of this day.

Pinagmasdan ko ang mga tao sa paligid, pilit inaninag ang mga pamilyar na mukha. Nakatayo sina Arkitekto Carlo at Arkitekto Jaron kasama ang ilan sa aming mga kasamahan mula sa Eco Arc Design, ang kanilang mga ekspresyon ay seryoso ngunit sumusuporta. Architect Marco stood nearby with Architect Pablo, their presence a testament to the strong connections I had formed, even in Bali. Nagtagpo ang mga mata namin sandali, at nagbigay si Kuya Marco ng bahagyang tango, isang kilos na tila nagdulot ng kirot sa aking dibdib sa pasasalamat.

My eyes drifted over to a cluster of familiar faces from my past: old classmates from elementary, high school, and college. Hindi ko inasahan na marami ang darating, pero naroon sila, nakatingin sa akin ng may malambing at maunawaing mga mata. Nearby, Hillary, Zarina, Dylan, and Herbert stood like pillars, their loyalty unspoken but deeply felt. Even in the haze of my grief, seeing them warmed a small, numb part of me.

My father's colleagues had come as well—men and women of various ages who'd worked alongside him for years, their presence confirming the respect he'd earned in his lifetime. My mother's friends and workmates were also there, some with tear-streaked faces, offering quiet comfort to her as she stood beside me. She was holding it together, barely, but I could see how broken she was. Her hand shook slightly as she reached for mine.

Beyond them, I saw my mother's side of the family. My grandparents, Lolo Ben and Lola Lina, sat quietly, their faces etched with both age and the sorrow of watching their daughter and grandchildren mourn. All four of my uncles—Uncle Vito, Uncle Celo, Uncle Marlon, and Uncle Moren—were there, standing close with their respective families. Tita Marra, who had always been like a second mother to me, stood with misty eyes, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The sight of them all reminded me that despite the loss, we were not alone; we were surrounded by generations of love and shared memories.

My father's side of the family was also present, gathered solemnly. Some wiped away tears, others stood with stoic expressions, their presence a testament to the complicated, shared history we all had with my father.

At pagkatapos, mula roon sa gilid malapit sa kanila, nakita ko si Cam kasama ang pamilya niya. He stood with a solemn expression, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of concern and silent strength. Cam had always been able to read me without words, and today was no different. His gaze told me he understood how hollow I felt, how exhaustion had wrapped itself around my bones.

The priest's voice, reciting prayers, felt distant and muffled, like I was underwater.

Ang mga luha ko ay ubos na, natuyo mula sa mga araw ng pag-iyak at mga gabing walang tulog. Ang ulo ko ay parang mabigat, at ramdam ko ang pangangalay sa aking mga binti, ang pagod ng pagtayo nang matagal.

When the time came for the final prayer and the sound of dirt hitting the casket echoed through the quiet, I felt my stomach clench. My mother let out a soft sob, and instinctively, I put my arm around her, squeezing her shoulder. It felt strange to be the one providing comfort when I felt so lost myself.

"Goodbye, Daddy," bulong ko sa aking sarili, nanginginig ang boses habang lumalapit ako upang ilagay ang isang puting rosas sa kabaong. My fingertips brushed against the petals, and for a brief moment, I felt like I was reaching out for something I could never hold again. The finality of it was suffocating.

Nagsimula nang gumalaw ang mga tao, nag-aalok ng kanilang pakikiramay, bumubulong ng mga salitang hindi ko gaanong marinig. Bawat yakap, bawat tapik sa balikat ay naghalo-halo sa susunod. Tumango ako, nakapagpasalamat paminsan-minsan, pero lahat ito'y tila mekanikal, hiwalay sa realidad. The world spun around me, a mix of muted colors and soft voices.

Cam appeared at my side, and for the first time that day, I felt a flicker of warmth. Inabot niya ang kamay ko, binigyan ito ng banayad na pisil. "Nandito lang ako, Shan," he said, his voice steady, the comfort I didn't know I needed until that moment.

Tumingala ako sa kanya, isang maliit, basag na ngiti ang nabuo sa aking mga labi. Ang bigat sa aking dibdib ay bahagyang humupa, sapat upang ipaalala sa akin na nandito pa rin ako, napapaligiran ng mga taong nagmamahal sa akin. At habang nagpapatuloy ang seremonya, napagtanto ko na marahil, marahil nga, makakahanap ako ng paraan para malampasan ito.

***

As the sun set behind the rolling hills of Mariveles, casting long shadows over the Freeport Area, my feet pounded against the familiar pavement. The rhythmic thud was comforting, a sound I clung to in the silence that often enveloped my life now. The ocean breeze swept over me, ruffling my newly cut and dyed blonde hair which I had maintained every year.

It had been a month since my father's burial, and the world seemed to have moved on without me. I hadn't set foot in an architecture studio or even thought about picking up a drafting pencil since returning from Bali. My decision to take a break was met with mixed reactions, but I needed space—to breathe, to mourn, to figure out who I was without the weight of expectations pressing down on me.

Tahimik ang bahay nang bumalik ako, halos nakakapanghina ang katahimikan. Malamang ay nasa klase si Mags, at nasa trabaho pa si Mommy. I'd grown used to being alone, the solitude both a balm and a burden. I kicked off my shoes and let the cool tile floor soothe my aching feet. The shower was hot, almost scalding, and I let the water run down my back, hoping it would wash away the exhaustion that had settled in my bones. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. Dark circles framed my eyes, eyes that seemed dimmer than I remembered. The blonde hair was an attempt to reclaim a part of me that felt lost, but even that felt hollow now.

Wrapped in an oversized shirt and cotton shorts, I sank into the couch and grabbed the remote. The house, dark except for the dim glow of the TV, wrapped around me like a shroud. I navigated to Twenty-Five Twenty-One, a show I'd heard about but never found the time to watch. As the episodes played, I felt the dull ache in my chest grow. 'Yong mga tao sa pinapanood ko ay masaya, minsan malungkot, may pinagdadaanan, pero ang mahalaga, buhay na buhay pa rin sila at may gana.

Time blurred as the show played on, scenes rolling seamlessly into one another. The voices of the characters became a soundtrack to the memories that kept creeping in—Dad's laugh, the way he called me anak with pride in his voice, and the way we used to share quiet moments when no one else was around. The ache in my chest swelled until it felt like I couldn't breathe.

A ping from my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. It lit up on the coffee table, messages from friends I'd been avoiding: Hillary and Cam checking in, Zarina asking if I was up for a visit, Dylan trying to call, and Herbert suggesting coffee. I stared at the screen until the light faded, letting the phone fall back into silence. Reaching out felt too hard, like a bridge I wasn't ready to cross. I hugged the blanket tighter, the only barrier between me and the loneliness that had become my constant companion.

The room was cold, the darkness outside pressing against the window like a reminder of how long I'd been in this limbo. "Maybe tomorrow," bulong ko, nanginginig ang boses ko sa katahimikan. But I knew it was the same promise I made to myself yesterday, and the day before that. The tears finally spilled over as I watched the characters on screen share moments of love and loss. Umiiyak sila; umiiyak ako. At sa loob ng kaunting sandali, parang hindi ako nag-iisa.

***

The morning air was crisp as I walked to Casa Veles, a quaint little café that had become my silent retreat. The cobblestone paths, lined with blooming bougainvillea, glistened under the soft glow of the early sun. Tahimik dito, isang pagtakas mula sa nakabibinging katahimikan ng bahay at ang mga alingawngaw ng dalamhati na tila nananatili sa bawat sulok ng bahay.

I pushed open the glass door, the familiar tinkle of the bell overhead a small comfort. The warm scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries wrapped around me, grounding me for a moment. I ordered my usual—black coffee, no sugar—and found a seat by the window. The world outside carried on with its morning rituals. Life moved, unaffected by the ache that had taken residence in my chest.

Ang totoo, hindi ko alam kung bakit iniiwasan ko sina Mags at Mommy. Maybe it was the rawness of their eyes, still red and swollen from crying, or the awkward silences that punctuated every interaction. Or perhaps it was the guilt—the guilt of not being able to hold them when they needed me, of choosing to sit in my loneliness rather than confront theirs. Kapag nasa bahay sila, umaalis ako, hindi ko alam kung saan ako mapapadpad basta't makaalis lang ako at maiwasan ko sila. Mas madali iyon, o sa tingin ko lang iyon.

I sipped my coffee, the bitterness settling on my tongue. My phone lay abandoned at home; it felt like a tether I didn't want. A few weeks ago, I'd gone as far as deactivating all my social media accounts, tired of the endless notifications, the well-meaning messages, and the photos that reminded me of a time when everything felt stable. Detachment had become my safety net, a way to preserve the little bit of strength I had left.

The café bustled around me, but the noise was muted, like I was watching life unfold from behind glass. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the coffee seep into my hands, hoping that somehow it would melt the chill that had taken up residence in my heart.

When I arrived home that morning, the emptiness greeted me like an old acquaintance. Ang katahimikan ng bahay ay tila mas malakas pa kaysa sa anumang ingay, pinipisil ako nito ng bigat na hindi ko maalis-alis. Nilinis ko ang mga sahig, pinunasan ang mga countertop sa kusina, at kinuskos ang mga tile sa banyo hanggang sa sumakit ang mga braso ko. It was a strange comfort, this routine of cleaning, as if I could scrub away the gnawing emptiness inside me.

After a hot shower, I curled up on the couch with a blanket and turned on Twenty-Five Twenty-One. The drama's familiar scenes washed over me, and somewhere in between episodes, exhaustion pulled me into a dreamless sleep. When I woke up, the house was dim, shadows creeping in with the approaching night. The knock at my door startled me, pulling me back into reality.

"Shan, nandiyan si Hillary sa ibaba," tawag ng boses ni Mommy mula sa likod ng pinto, malambing ngunit matatag.

Isang panghihinayang ang sumagi sa isip ko, pero pinigilan ko ito. "Pakisabi, natutulog kamo ako," sabi ko, humihiga, umaasang doon na matatapos ang usapan.

But my mother had reached her limit. "Shan, kailangan mong kausapin ang mga kaibigan mo. Luluwas na si Hillary sa mga susunod na araw, at dumaan na si Cameron ng dalawang beses ngayong linggo. Hindi mo puwedeng palaging iwasan ang lahat."

I sat up, my jaw tightening. "I don't want to see anyone," I muttered, feeling the familiar frustration flare.

There was a pause, and then my mother's voice softened, but not without a hint of urgency. "Shan, we're all grieving. But life doesn't stop just because he's gone."

That was it. Something snapped inside me, and I didn't hold back. "Life doesn't stop, but it should for me. Don't you understand, Mom? I didn't make peace with him. I never forgave him. He died thinking I hated him. I—" my voice cracked, "I can't live with that."

The silence that followed was suffocating. I heard my mother's small intake of breath, and then the door creaked as she came in. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she sat beside me. Walang salitang sinabi, niyakap niya ako, at bigla na lang, ang mga pader na itinayo ko sa paligid ko ay gumuho.

We cried together, the weight of unsaid words and shattered moments filling the room. The grief, the regret, the guilt—it all came pouring out in the silence of that shared embrace. It was messy and raw, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like I wasn't alone in the pain.

Kinabukasan ng umaga, nagising ako sa maputlang liwanag na dumadaloy sa mga kurtina, pinipintahan ang silid ng malalambot na kulay. Nakahiga ako roon, nakatitig sa kisame, pakiramdam na parang hindi ako natulog. A month of rest, and yet, every muscle in my body ached as if I had been carrying the world on my back. The exhaustion was more than physical; it was a weariness that clung to my bones, deep and relentless.

No amount of sleep could touch it, no reprieve seemed enough. I shifted, feeling the stiffness in my limbs and the hollow pit that had settled in my chest, refusing to budge. The room was quiet, but the silence wasn't peaceful. It felt heavy, pressing down like a suffocating blanket.

Pinilit kong bumangon, ang simpleng kilos na iyon ay nangangailangan ng higit pang lakas kaysa sa dapat. I ran a hand through my hair—short and freshly dyed, but it did little to lighten the dullness inside. I glanced around my room, everything in its place, untouched by the chaos within me.

Rest was supposed to bring relief, to recharge, but this exhaustion wasn't the kind that sleep could cure. It was the kind that settled in the soul, fed by years of pushing, striving, holding everything together. And now, when I finally stopped, it came crashing down all at once, reminding me of everything I hadn't allowed myself to feel.

I sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, and took a deep breath that trembled in my chest. I knew then that the journey to feeling whole again wouldn't come from rest alone. It was going to take more—more than I'd ever given myself before.

____

a/n: Chapter 23 will be posted later tonight.