Dear Mama,
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day again, and it will be the 14th year since you went home. I remember, this time in 2008, we were in the hospital, you asked me to buy some toy balloons. I went out to look for balloons and was fortunate to find them after almost an hour of searching. I remember you were so happy then playing with the balloons that I bought. Good thing I just learned how to make dog-shaped balloons then, and you loved them. I never had a clue that it would be the last time I would be seeing you happy.
I remember waking up to hear you shouting and crying in pain at dawn of February 14. The nurses did everything to pacify you, we did not know what to do. They injected you with tranquilizer, and it took a while before the medicine took effect and you finally fell asleep. I thought that was it, you're fine. That was the last time I saw you alive.
I went out to post the announcements that we were selling the computers from our Internet shop, so I can raise money to pay for our hospital bills, as I was jobless then and money we received from selling our house was already depleted. I post the signs on several street posts and some walls, too. I never expected what I saw when I came back to the hospital.
I saw Ima standing outside the door, crying. The door was wide open, and when I looked inside there were a lot of doctors and nurses trying to revive you, Mama. After some time, they stopped and said there's nothing they can do. I was just standing at the door, looking at the commotions inside. It did not immediately sink in on me. I felt numbed.
And just like that, Mama, you were gone. You left us. There were no goodbyes.
I'm trying my best to be strong, Mama. Trying my best to fulfill the promise I made. But sometimes, I feel weak, and I want to give up. I want to rest, too Mama.
I'm sorry, Mama. I don't intend to make you feel worried. I won't give up on our children, Mama. That's a promise.
I miss you, Mama.
I love you.
Happy Valentines Day.
Daddy
