When the memory starts to live within us.

I remember our weekend and holiday visits to your house Inang, and how welcoming you always were. Suddenly, the hassle of our travel time and our rebellious instinct of skipping the visit wears off when we see how excited you were to see us. I miss the warmth of your hug Inang, and the tickles down my spine everytime you give me your signature kisses.

I miss waking up on a cold breakfast you prepared so early because I'm such a lazy bum that I chose to wake up 2 hours later. I'd come down to the dining table and find colorful plastic bags filled with kakanin and snacks. It almost makes me want to postpone telling you we're leaving in a few days. 

The more days go by, the more I realize the tiny  things you do that I miss. I guess that's how people deal with loss. They dissect every memory they have of that person for comfort and acceptance. I thought when I get through every memory we have I'd be moving on. But I realized maybe it doesn't stop. Maybe we continue to dissect these memories and it becomes a permanent part of our routine. It gets incorporated to our lives like that like breathing and that's when it becomes bearable, when it gets too familiar, when the memory starts to live within us.