Blue-Skies, Heaven, Bulletproof, Laughter and Lightning Strike

Mister Blue-Skies,

You wanna know something funny?

I don't know how you would react if you could actually hear me say this to you, because I also don't know how I would take it if I heard news like this, but based on the context I think in the end, I'd appreciate it. Of course, I'm alive and my heart is somehow still beating, so I wouldn't know, and if it stopped, then I wouldn't know either.

Death is a world of unconsciousness, but life consists of unconsciousness almost nearly as much. There's always an unknown, isn't there? No matter where we go. Sometimes that's terrifying to live by.

Usually it is.

Even though it doesn't matter what you would think or wouldn't think about it at this point, I still wonder if you'd be the same way as me. You'd probably be confused at what I'm getting at. I know at the moment I'm not making any sense, but that's not necessarily new either, huh?

You'd put up with me if you had to listen to me right now, wouldn't you?

A couple weeks before you passed, we got a dog. A puppy, actually. He was eight weeks old when we first got him and ran across our house for the first time. It was the cutest thing I've got to see in what feels like ages, especially since it's been a while since I've seen you in person, and my heart completely melted. I was certain this puppy was meant to be part of our family.

Right then, I let myself be certain that the hardest thing I was going to face this year was already behind us, and that was the simple argument with my parents about what we were going to name him. I mean, of course, in the pit of my stomach, I knew that the passing days are always unexpected and that something worse would come along, but the fate that came your way-- it was never anything like that. That couldn't be guessed.

We had the puppy for a little over 14 days, and he's not getting the hang of what name we finally managed to agree on. He was feisty and no matter what we did to train him or to get his attention, he didn't want to listen. He was all on his own, doing whatever the heck he wanted, utterly uncontrollable. That's understandable, you'd think. It's barely been two weeks, and we have to be patient, yeah?

That's what I thought too, but out of the blue, I called him your name, -- I don't even know what came over me -- and as if he were programmed to respond to it, his head perked up and he listened. Maybe it's just coincidence. Probably, to be totally honest, but it was a beautiful sight to see. It felt like life was still assigned to you. It felt like it didn't get fully turned in yet.

I find it adorable that the truth is, I can't even say that I was the one who named him after you. In some way or another, he kind of chose his name on his own.

Now, every time I bond with that perfect little boy, I can't help but to remember you. From your upbeat and contagious happiness to your insanely clumsy self, and everything in between, I remember you.

And even if my heart is still empty, at least it feels a little bit softer. Even just a little.

Especially because of the dark eyes you share.

Whether that's a compliment or an insult that he shares your name, I hope you'd understand that in some way or another, I'm learning to cope. It still hurts, and I think it always will, but I know you'd want me to get through it.

Thank you for being the blessing you were to me when you were here. Thank you for being my blue sky.

-C.L.

-

Mister Heaven,

When we came home from the mall exploration that day, it was already dark, and something about the atmosphere made my body churn; it's almost like suddenly I was sick with fever, but only in my own mind. To anyone else, I didn't break a sweat. I just now realize what that was.

With the day ending, that meant that there was at least a chance you'd be going back home, and comprehending that a good day had to end made my body physically sore. I didn't want to believe that I was letting a day like this just slip away so easily. I didn't want to believe that there wasn't anything I could do to make you stay even a little bit longer.

It's similar to the way I feel now, in some sense. In both cases, I'm telling myself I have to let go of what we were, what we could be, and you, entirely. The only difference is that this time around, there was nothing you could do about your disappearance. You couldn't stop death from crawling up on you, especially when you didn't see it coming, but back then, you were the only one who could decide if you wanted to stay around with me longer or not.

And you decided you wanted to. At the snap of the fingers, the aching in my body was able to subside. Just being able to see you step into the place I was staying was enough. That gave me the assurance I needed. I felt okay again, at least in the mean time. I couldn't help but to smile.

Yeah, it sounds corny, but it's not a lie.

The silence we shared for a few minutes then was of a different kind. We've already experienced awkward, but the aura around us was lighter at this chance. We started to develop a bond that didn't need words to be understood. It's as if somehow we just knew in our hearts and in our minds how to communicate without a single movement of the jaw, and I got to bask in that ray of sun for a bit.

It was a warm and fuzzy feeling that took over me.

If life was a movie, this was the scene that we got to start a new life for ourselves -- one where we can finally be happy. Together maybe. It's unfortunate that we're not living in the script of a romance, but I'll take what I can get when it comes to you, anyway. I mean, how could I not? How could I not be appreciative of what that moment was, regardless of how our paths split afterward?

I'm glad we had our time. Definitely.

Like when you swiftly reached for the guitar leaning up against the wall, and laid it gently on your lap as you strummed freestyle at the chords right before my eyes, hitting every note exactly as it's supposed to be played. Out of you, emotion poured. I could see these blues, these yellows, these reds -- the sadness, the happiness, and the anger that came from you, and though I was happy I made you happy that day, I was pained too, because I knew those reds and blues were also my fault.

But I didn't intervene. I didn't cut you off. I wanted you to talk, and if this was the best way we could talk to each other, then I wanted to see your mind. I longed to listen. I wanted to hear the way your heart beat.

And as if you were granting me permission to do that, you started to sing. The voice that came from you was heavenly. I know that everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses when it comes to talents, and of the many strengths you have within you, this was another one of yours.

You wanted me to join you, and as self conscious I was of my voice, and as far from used to singing in front of others as I was, I did try to, somewhat. I did that to communicate with you, to reply to the worries and the goodness or your voice, but I was more desperate to keep out an ear and be there for you, I found myself being more busy with doing that instead.

With a few exceptions, I think that was still the best we've ever talked. The kind that's not nonsense or done our of shyness, at least. The kind that we spoke from the deepest part of us, something we didn't show to just anyone.

I thought we'd get a chance to do that again. I thought I'd be able to understand you even more than I do now, but the bad thing about all of that is all I have to look at to reminisce those hours is a video under a minute long.

That face you make when you're being recorded -- I know I'll never forget that for as long as I live.

I wish I can see it one more time.

-C.L.

-

Mister Bulletproof,

There's a lot of lessons in life that come along that you wouldn't think you would have to learn. That's what I'm figuring out these days, and it's bad. Really bad.

Even when I say I'm coping -- yeah, I am -- but you cope because there's pain. If there wasn't any hurt, there wouldn't be any reason to cope, and that would mean I could still look forward to a day coming up we'd see each other again. You'd still be here. Life would circle onward exactly as I expected it to.

Yet it's not like that, and I'm getting to the point that I realize tears don't measure sadness in the least. They never did, even when it seemed like it. They might represent it in some sense, but it's not a definition.

You could be just as sad and drained out without a single tear to fall, whether that means that there's this burning sensation in your eyes that can't produce it anymore or if it just feels empty in the base of your chest where no one can see because that' simply the way it is; that doesn't mean the hurt is done. It's still there.

At this point, I don't even know what I'm experiencing. I don't know if I'm out of tears or I don't have to cry anymore like I was before, but what I do know is I feel near to the same as I did when I first had to accept the truth. Like the world is just going on around me in two times speed, and I don't have the time to put myself together and follow after the crowd.

I've never felt this discombobulated. This lost. This cold. This alone. This afraid. It's a 'new' of a lot of things for me, and it's losing you that's caused all of that.

I'll never be ashamed of that though. It's not like it's something to be ashamed of anyway, but I've heard it far too many times that we're just little balls of dust living on a rock that's diminishing, and to a lot of contexts, that helps. It teaches us to humble ourselves. To value others before our own existence, and things like that.

I didn't count on having an experience that it wouldn't apply to. What I'm going through right now -- it doesn't matter how small I am, or how small you are in this vast universe. You've always meant everything to me, from the very beginning. I mean that.

I should've spent more of the time I had with you praying that you wouldn't ever hurt and that you would always be happy. I should've spent more time wishing upon every star, every 11:11, and every dandelion that you'll never have this hole in your heart that I have right now. I hope at bare minimum, that while you were here, you didn't feel pain to this extreme.

I hope you were as bulletproof as you could be. I hope you're proud of yourself. I hope you found it in you to be confident in how far you can take yourself.

I hope God will bring you a miracle and bring you back to life soon because in the meantime I have this feeling that if my eyes do cry another drop, it'll still be in your behalf.

It'll be that way forever.

I'll always wish for your return, tears or not.

-C.L

-

Mister Laughter,

Remember that time when we were hanging around outside expensive resorts solely because we had nothing better to do? And of course, mainly because at that point, our money had run dry and we couldn't afford the entrance fee.

Could we have afforded to get in in any circumstance? I heavily doubt it to be honest. Funny thing is, then and now our perspective on that didn't change. We never let ourselves mope around about that and complain. We made an experience out of it, and made sure to laugh before, during, and after.

That's why I liked spending time with you. We turned whatever circumstance that came our way into something we can enjoy. I knew I was robbed once I found out I wouldn't get another one of those. I knew I was robbed once I found out that a time like that was the last one on the shelf, and permanently sold out from then on.

It's really too bad, but least we have that moment. As shy people like we are, I think we deserve it to ourselves to be mischievous once in our lives, and I was privileged to be able to spend my time being mischievous with you. I'm glad that someone pushed me to get out of my comfort zone and live a little.

It seems I forgot how to live, and I was lucky that we met each other so that you could remind me.

That say started out by the outside perimeter of that stand-out resort that everyone on the island made such a big deal about. It was empty and quiet, besides the patternized waves hitting at the shore ever so calmly, and the reason for that was because it was typically reserved for the people staying in that hotel.

The first-time adrenaline and the blood that flowed a little faster in our veins when doing something rebellious, even if not that big of a deal was totally life-changing, and with one glance at each other I think we both knew that neither of us were turning back now. We were going to finish what we started.

We inched in a little bit closer. We wanted to laugh, but to add to the silence of the area and to help us not to get caught, we didn't let ourselves, and that pushed out happy tears from our eyes. I saw them as they fell down your cheeks, and for certain, I learned without a doubt I found a place in this world and that it was to be sure your tears were also out of your laughter and not your pain.

I learned too, that my emotion was the exactly the same as yours, and we had a moment to awe within each other, and to embrace emotionally and mentally. I learned that admiration and love isn't always physical, and that it's actually much better on the sides which it isn't.

We got close enough to the fence to take a picture of the logo of something for some reason so prestigious, and we in fact, succeeded with the mission too. Of course, it wasn't even about the success, but about the fun we had together, but if it counts for anything, we actually managed to last there a minute or so, glad to spend time with one another, until an employee burst from the doors of the building and shooed us away like flies.

As we took off running back to the "safety zone" that's when we finally let out the laughter we'd been trying so desperately to keep inside.

I don't care if what we did was technically wrong. It was an itty bitty thing. After all, we didn't hurt anyone, did we? What it is now was more time that I had with you, and more time that I got to see your smiling face. I'm thankful that I got to put myself out there, and I'm thankful that you did that beside me.

In a world where people treated people like us are treated as flies that should be detested on the normal even if we didn't do anything wrong, I've never misunderstood anyone so much. Even if you are a fly in so many people's perspectives, why do you look like such a diamond to me?

Why am I the only one that can see?

-C.L.

-

Mister Lightning Strike,

There's this idea, an artifact of life, that I always struggled to understand, and I was pretty much set on never coming to a day that I'd understand it. Until finally I did, seemingly just like that.

Someone once asked me out of the blue what my love language is, and it was quite the shock for me because it forced me to think about what I even think about love and what I even believe it to be. I found that it was surprising that despite having a loving family and a girlfriend (though she's probably not worthy to count) I didn't know how to reply. Isn't it odd that sometimes it feels like I know others better than I personally know myself?

Who even am I? I genuinely do wonder sometimes.

It's not like I've never felt love in general before, but I guess I never thought about it hard enough. I never took the time to recognize when it was there and when it wasn't, and soon enough that was the way of life for me. I didn't need anyone's love. So much that I didn't think I deserved to feel effected when people treated me like crap. Heck, I didn't learn to love myself yet either.

Then I met you, and things changed. I know that sounds cliché, but there's to proof that every so often the world catches you off guard and it is cliché, just as it is in storybooks. Not only did I see my own worth, but I longed for the love of another person. I valued attention, the memory of little things I do, someone who looked out for me. I noticed what I deserve and I know now what my love language is.

It's touch. Otherwise, would I long for you to touch me as much as I did? Would my skin feel like it's on fire? Would it sting like lightning when there was space between us?

I don't think so, and that's why I was able stop being so blind. Yeah, maybe you weren't the first one to love me. I don't really know if you were or not or if other people out there ever were genuine about their love for me, but you were different. You taught me what love is, and you didn't even have to try.

In fact, you didn't even know you were doing it. You didn't even have to actually touch me. I just knew. I could simply tell.

It's quite basic to think about, but it's more than what people tend to appreciate. After all, human touch is our first way of communication. Isn't that beautiful?

It expresses safety, comfort, and security all bound up in the same lovely bouquet, wrapped in colored paper and a fancy bow. There lies the gentle caress of a finger, the interlock of hands, the skimming of lips to the cheek, the protection of even a mere shadow.

It's our stronghold. Because of this, we find anchoring during our anger, cries and our storms. Our footing is rooted deeper in a sense that helps us to be happy. We come to know passion as a friend, rather than fear. It's more powerful than we can imagine. It's more powerful than we know.

I think we need that touch from the one we love, as much as we need oxygen in our lungs and as for me -- I didn't get enough of it. I'm constantly choked and constantly suffocated.

There's not a cure for that.

And just having to accept that I realized this too late; having to accept that there's a great importance in not only touch, but in your touch specifically, that I didn't realize before and that now I can't have -- yes, I say I recover but I won't. Not entirely.

But I'm still determined to live to tell everyone else who needs to know, not to make the same mistake I did. I'm going to make sure people know that if they're able to touch him or touch her, to do it. Not to waste a second.

Life's too short for that.

You know that all too well than I care to say out loud.

Or it's not that I don't care.

It's that I care too much.

-C.L