Miggy
You may not know this Miggy but your mom had hypertension right before you were born (I forget the medical term). At her last prenatal check- up, her gynecologist upon checking her vitals, immediately reserved a room at the hospital. Of course your mom did not know, so on the way to the hospital, she still asked if we could eat at the nearby cafe before checking in. Even then your mom was terribly into food.
But this blog is about you, so let's leave mom and her fondness for eating, and focus on you. I have lots and lots of memories of you, anak. You and Ana grew up together, I wanted to believe you are my son. You were a fat kid, but so good-looking, who cared?
Everywhere mom and I went, you and Ana were there with us, like mini-me's in tow, except that you are a boy. You would sit at the back of the car, belting out this song about rain with Ana, crooning words you both invented. You are so quiet and cool now that I cannot imagine how you blurted out in song like that.
There were sad times, anak, like any normal childhood. I cannot forget the sight of you hiding from me in shame when something wrong happened at home. I went to scoop you up in my arms, you willingly went home with me. I wish I did not let go so easily after that.
But you grew up so fast right before my eyes, suddenly you became Miguel--the one that said nothing but gave out meaningful smiles and shaking-head gestures; the one that timidly requested for help with the desktop because it was not working anymore; the one with the old cellphone which loses signal and the one for whom I bought a new one but you lost (unintentionally, you said, hehe); and the one who is so in love nowadays, I don't know if I should be happy or nervous.
You nearly died years back, at the emergency room, when your body was stricken by seizures because of high fever. Your mom was pregnant with Gabby, and was wailing outside the room. I held your hand and whispered to your ears, 'I love you anak.', because after all you have been through as a child, if you were to die that time, I thought the last words you must hear was that of love.
Because we do love you, anak. Not more than your mom, who I can assure you now is crazy in love with you and Gabby, to the point of being so annoying but endearing. I think that the love we all have for you is borne out of your good looks. Joke. Sincerely we do, because of who you are. Quiet, responsible, thoughtful and real. Too real, at times, but we need someone like you in this wicked family to pull us down to the ground by just one remark, especially at times when we all dream so loud, everything becomes reachable even when not.
I know now that Papa God has gifted me with you as nephew, not only to point out that we do have very good genes (ehem), but because you are a child born to your mom who is so fortunate to have a son like you. Sometimes she does not realize it, but you and Gab are just the inspiration she needs to get up each morning and go on with her life (in four-inch heels). I wish that I did not let go of you so easily when I 'rescued' you, anak. But I am grateful your mom has your hand to hold. Do not let go easily, anak.
Happy Birthday!
But this blog is about you, so let's leave mom and her fondness for eating, and focus on you. I have lots and lots of memories of you, anak. You and Ana grew up together, I wanted to believe you are my son. You were a fat kid, but so good-looking, who cared?
Everywhere mom and I went, you and Ana were there with us, like mini-me's in tow, except that you are a boy. You would sit at the back of the car, belting out this song about rain with Ana, crooning words you both invented. You are so quiet and cool now that I cannot imagine how you blurted out in song like that.
There were sad times, anak, like any normal childhood. I cannot forget the sight of you hiding from me in shame when something wrong happened at home. I went to scoop you up in my arms, you willingly went home with me. I wish I did not let go so easily after that.
But you grew up so fast right before my eyes, suddenly you became Miguel--the one that said nothing but gave out meaningful smiles and shaking-head gestures; the one that timidly requested for help with the desktop because it was not working anymore; the one with the old cellphone which loses signal and the one for whom I bought a new one but you lost (unintentionally, you said, hehe); and the one who is so in love nowadays, I don't know if I should be happy or nervous.
You nearly died years back, at the emergency room, when your body was stricken by seizures because of high fever. Your mom was pregnant with Gabby, and was wailing outside the room. I held your hand and whispered to your ears, 'I love you anak.', because after all you have been through as a child, if you were to die that time, I thought the last words you must hear was that of love.
Because we do love you, anak. Not more than your mom, who I can assure you now is crazy in love with you and Gabby, to the point of being so annoying but endearing. I think that the love we all have for you is borne out of your good looks. Joke. Sincerely we do, because of who you are. Quiet, responsible, thoughtful and real. Too real, at times, but we need someone like you in this wicked family to pull us down to the ground by just one remark, especially at times when we all dream so loud, everything becomes reachable even when not.
I know now that Papa God has gifted me with you as nephew, not only to point out that we do have very good genes (ehem), but because you are a child born to your mom who is so fortunate to have a son like you. Sometimes she does not realize it, but you and Gab are just the inspiration she needs to get up each morning and go on with her life (in four-inch heels). I wish that I did not let go of you so easily when I 'rescued' you, anak. But I am grateful your mom has your hand to hold. Do not let go easily, anak.
Happy Birthday!
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