*beep* *beep* *beep*. I remember the sounds. Sound of machines, sound of life. I remember the smell of alcohol and the coldness of the ward. I remember praying and asking God to open her eyes. Or a finger to twitch. Even for just a second, please. I remember sitting at the edge of the cold plastic chair, in the room with strangers around me on life support and ventilators. So much despair in the air that it choked me. I hate hospitals. I remember the endless nights here, praying and at the same time cursing God. I remember mama. Oh dear mama, always so fragile. Jaundice, liver sirosis and stomach ulcers. In five months, I was robbed of the only person I loved most. I remember the night she left me. I remember coming earlier to bring her rosary which I put under her pillow. I remember having the chance to tell her how much I loved her and that she was going to walk out of the hospital just as walked in. I remember not saying it because even the thought of it made me tear up. So I didn’t. I remember the long beep of the machines going flat and I remember how my heart broke. I remember the emptiness I felt right in the middle of my chest. I remember that night. And I remember the lonely nights that followed after. I love you mama, if I never said it. I still remember mama. I always remember.
.JPG)
