01 22 19

Monkey,

Today marks your 24 hours back there; almost 48 hours ago since we've been physically together. I was supposed to put up this blog last night, but I got caught up with our video call with the kids. I put this up with the hope to cope up with the sadness I am in; to put this loneliness into writing, to write about you, because you and this moment need to be cherished and remembered because it's a first. I am writing down this moment because it is about my longing for you, and you deserve to be written because your soul is so beautiful and homely. But most importantly, because I have never ever loved anyone as much and as hard as this before.

"It feels like a dream. A sad, sad dream," says my Facebook status on January 20 2019, 5:13pm at NAIA Terminal 1.  

"Madaling natatanggap ng isip ang paglisan ng ating minamahal. Sapagkat tanging ang puso at kaluluwa lamang ang nakararamdam ng pangungulila." 18 hours ago on Facebook. 

When I got home from the airport that night, I went to our room after a really quick dinner. The moment I opened the door, what welcomed me are the stuff you left that couldn't fit in your luggage, scattered in a hazy mess; the monkey pillow-blanket we call "Monkey", which you left so that you'd have a proxy, unzipped from its tidiness on our love bed; and the purple tank top with a neon green Palawan print on it—the last thing you wore before you changed into your travel clothes.

Before I could enter and settle in our room, I burst into tears. Because it hit me real hard—that  you are no longer here sank deeper, and it felt so lonely that all I could do was cry and cry my poor heart out. I couldn't stop crying, so I cried while I tidy up our room a bit. I dressed the pillow you sleep on with the purple Palawantank top that you left, so that I could hug it every night and day. So that I would feel close to you, so that I could pretend you're still beside me—because it still has your smell in it. (I just hope I don't inhale the scent away, so that I wouldn't feel you're getting farther away from me.

At 11:30pm, you called me from your layover in Bangkok. My laptop camera wasn't working, so I felt sorry for you because you couldn't see me. But perhaps it was for the better so that it wouldn't add up to the burden of your departure. When I saw you in the video call, I went crying again; I cried like a child. You cried too, perhaps because you couldn't see me crying. But only if you did, perhaps you would have laughed, like you used to at so many times.

That first night was extremely hard for me. Your flight took off at around 8pm, and despite the physical exhaustion we've been through the previous days, I had trouble sleeping. And in that series of intermittent sleep, I would dream of you; and in every waking moment I would cry because it would dawn on me that I'd rather be in a dream than to be in those waking moments. Because in my dreams, you were there—you were there and I had you with me there.

Whenever I woke up every hour or so, I would ask you to hug me to keep we warm in my sleep, or to kiss me half-asleep just because; I would wake up every hour or so, so that I could get a better sleeping position, asking you to stretch your right arm so that I could sleep in it, which you ever so willingly did so. But that night was extremely hard for me, because no matter how hard I asked and begged for all these, you weren't there beside me. It was, unequivocally, the coldest and loneliest night in the past ten months.

The following day I woke up crying, because you were in my dreams again. You told me to wake up for work, and that if I didn't you would leave me. So I cried, asking you not to leave, and that's how I woke up crying. And realizing that you already left despite me waking up, I cried even harder. Waking up with you not beside me is so lonely; it's so fatal.

That day went by with me just lying on the sofa, waiting for your updates. Bawling my eyes out. Mom didn't cook anything and I had the whole house to myself. All I had that day was instant noodles because I had no appetite for anything. I only ate because you made me promise to take care of myself when you're back there, so I'm trying to keep that promise.

Today, January 22, I went to work. You woke me up at 4:30am, and it was all I needed to get my day going—your voice was beautiful and comforting. It was home. So I did my usual routine, plus the routine you used to do for me—I packed my own lunch. Now I'm at work, trying to ease myself in on my routine. But all I could think about was you. Like always, I would cry. This time silently and sneakily in the Editing Room if I can't stop it. Usually, at this time of the day at work, I would already start thinking about coming home to you. I would ask you if would pick me up at work or what were you cooking for dinner. I am so used to the thought of coming home to your cooking, to your kisses, to your hugs, to our late night coffee and yosi sessions, to our pre-sleep passionate sex. I was so used to the routine of coming home with you in it.

Please, please come home soon. :'(

Undying love,

Babi