A letter to my father
I visited your grave last Sunday. Your apo, Estelle, bought one of the three flowerpots that we brought to cheer you up on Father’s Day. Your resting place at the Libingan ng mga Bayani is in dire need of sprucing up. How long has it been since we lowered your body down there? Sixteen years. We ache for you still. And now there are cracks in the black slab of granite that juts out from the ground, serving as a divider between heaven and earth. We promise to fix those cracks soon.