Wow...I can't believe it's been 2 months since Uncle Swithin has passed away now. So many things has been happening around me that I can't even begin to imagine that I'm trying to put those days behind me. Though it may be true that the only reason why I came back into the blogging scene is because of Uncle Swithin, I'm also noticing that I'm growing up from the days where the leaving of someone does not take a toll on me that hard anymore.

Within these two months, I have cried, I have been screaming and I've been rejoicing. I may have been stronger but I may also have been getting weaker. I may be trying or I may just be naturally being as such. But the truth is that nobody really knows. I really am beginning to learn, aren't I? Perhaps everyone calls this the process of growing up. Especially when the unexpected happens to you and you still break? Yeah, that really hurts. But then again, what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger.

Let me take myself down memory lane once more. Where days when I would sit  by the curb of my school and wait for my father to pick me up. As his car approaches and I see the man of such height seated in the front seat, I would find myself smiling all of a sudden. That man...that big, tall man was Mr.Swithin Monteiro. That same music critic, that same person who would tell us stories of how his dog came about to being a part of the Monteiro clan and that same man who would pop open a can of Diet Coke while feeding my father with beer. You see, Mr.Monteiro was a close friend to my father...and somehow I grew up later on to know that he CANNOT drive a car. In a complete sudden, these memories are clouded by the thought of Uncle Dev calling my father and stating that Uncle Swithin had had a major stroke and it was fatal. I remember that numb Monday evening with such grim news after dinner. And on the very next day, I remember how my father asked if I were in class. I remember telling him that I was too busy to pick up my phone. Regrets? Yes. Remorse? Yes. Life? Yes.

That Tuesday...that particular Tuesday...was the day he had left us all. That particular day where I was too ignorant to pick up my phone and listen in to that very news. And right now...just the very thought of such a happening makes me scream at myself for being such an immature child. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for having been such a little girl. I'm sorry for not telling you a goodbye till your very last breath. You're always going to be in my memory. You're always going to be a part of me. And I do hope you know how much I cared till the very final moment.