Those times.

There are many instances when I remember how we used to talk and go on for ever. I miss you so much. Alam ko mas okey sila magpaligo diyan. Sorry, 'di ko masyado naasikaso 'yung baths mo dati. I love you, Papa!

Borrowing your account for gaming.

Dear Papa:

I hacked into borrowed your account today to play Restaurant City so I could trade ingredients. I needed 3 pieces of ham. Thanks to you, I've unlocked all recipes for the Pizzeria!

With much love,

Your Luigi

They're coming!

PA, LOOK AT THIS! It scared the shit out of me! I don't know what's going to happen, but I know you'll be there to guide and help us should "they" come.

If the aliens are going to be cool like those kids from that Witch Mountain movie, please help me be bestfriends with them. They're going to like me, for sure.

If the aliens are going to be like those from Independence Day, please please please help us run far away. I'm serious.

With much love,

Your Luigi

First letter goes to the living.

Earlier this year, I lost my father. It was my first time to be confronted by the death of someone so close, so important to me. It was not easy to cope with the loss, there were times when the pain was unbearable, but our family was able to come to terms with death and move on with life comparatively quick. He left in peace and left us peace. I am grateful for that.

That said, I still have to get over not being able to greet him in the morning, eat breakfast with him, or watch a favourite movie with him for the nth time. Perhaps I never will. I don't think any of us ever get over the passing of someone so loved. We just cope with the loss every single day of our lives.

But do we truly lose our dead? I choose to believe differently. I think death is just another path, one that we all must take (you can quote Gandalf on that), to another world, different yet not entirely separate from our own. You can take it metaphorically, but I choose to think it's real. 

I call this place Elysium, as is in the Graeco-Roman tradition. The ancient poet Pindar described it as:

"Where soothing breezes off the Ocean
Breathe over the Isle of the Blessed:
All around flowers are blazing with a
Dazzling light:
Some springing from the shining trees,
Others nourished by the water from the sea:
With circlets and garlands of flowers they
Crown their hands..."

It is in the Elysian Fields where our ancestors rest. At least, those noble or mighty enough to reach it. It is an idyllic place painted with our dearest memories, which is why we should make beautiful memories. As they say: What we do today, echoes in eternity.

I created this blog to hold my letters to my father in Elysium, and several other ancestors who had gone home before us. I have always had a fondness for writing things down. Even when I could simply speak with my father, I would sometimes write him a letter. Letters, after all, hide the trembling and the stuttering that we normally would conceal.

Fortunately, no stones were left unturned between us, so I didn't leave much in the past that he didn't already know. I loved him dearly that I never hid anything from him. Except maybe my stash of porn, but I think he knew about that, too.

My letters will most probably be about how things are at present with me or the family ... things I would be personally telling him if he were still alive. I intend to print out each letter and read them aloud at his lararium, and then burn or bury them. Although I am confident that my father is reading this as we speak, I'm ritualistic like that. I like the theatrics of ritual and the awareness it raises. 

So there. Sit back and enjoy(?) my conversations with the dead.