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|| Monday, January 29, 2007 ||


Last Thursday night found me dreading the weekend, thinking that Saturday is January 27, which will mark Py's first month of having passed away.

And I was beset with loneliness again.

And tears.

And then numbness.

Come Saturday, my husband's uncle also passed away. The date of his passing was not lost to my family, and my husband's family... and we all agreed we hated the number 27 now.

And as usual in deaths, stories of Tito Robert's last moments are repeated again and again... and I and my husband couldn't help comparing it to Pyro's.

And at the mass last night, seeing the coffin and the lights and the flowers and remembering how, a month ago, I was looking at a coffin and lights and flowers too, I broke down.

I was quieted by my husband with a joke that people might think am his uncle's mistress, because I was crying more than his wife and kids were.

But oh, the pain of remembrance. And the realization yet again that you're getting farther and farther away from a reality where a loved one existed.


Tito Robert gifted us with money just 2 weeks ago, part of which we intended to use for the PCMC thing in honor of Py. And now he's also gone.


Relating these to my brother, one cannot help but note the sadness in his eyes. And when I gave him chocolate versions of the milk pellets his son used to love eating (somethingw e could only get from Thailand), his eyes misted.

This coming Sunday is Pyro's 40th day.

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