DAY 5 OF LOLA'S PASSING

It just started to sink in yesterday -- after her urn was displayed at the church. After it has been showered with holy water by everyone who cared enough to be there for her burial. I thought I'd been strong, showing and telling everyone I'm fine, not crying at all -- but yesterday, I did. I'll miss her. I really will. Despite everything. She's still family.

3 deaths in the family in 3 years. I just realized that too, yesterday. Tita Julie, Tito Victor, then Lola. I don't think I'll be able to bear any more. Today, I felt how it was to be depressed. To be really sad. I didn't want to move, I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to talk to anyone or leave my bed. There's just this heavy feeling in my chest that doesn't go away no matter how hard I try to entertain myself.

You know how when someone dies, everyone just starts saying how much that person meant to them, how much that person touched their lives or even just their best memory with them? There was none of that here. Problems upon problems kept popping up. I discovered so many things she was hiding from the family. I discovered how much she owed, what she actually did to the family's properties. And now, what? The people she left behind have no choice but to fix all the mess she made. Because that's what family does. The family that she did not even consider as hers. The family that she eagerly pushed away just because she did not like the last name we carried.

There are times I think that at my age, I can already handle every curve ball life throws at me. I'm an adult. I've been around for almost three decades. I'm smart, I KNOW EVERYTHING. But then God puts me in these kinds of situation to remind me that I'm basically still a child. I know nothing about this adult stuff. I still need a parent. Maybe because I've basically been "independent" my whole life, but I now realize I am still so freaking clueless.

Our distant relatives made sure to point that out too during the course of all this. "Ay, you should have done this." "Nako, it shouldn't be that way." "Sa probinsya, ganito." "Sabi ko, pupuntahan ko na kayo dahil ano naman alam nung mga bata doon." And all my uncle (who's also just about in his late 30s) and I could say were:  "Ah. We didn't know." "Hindi namin alam eh."

Anyway, what's done is done. She's gone, so we have to pick ourselves up and be responsible.

I just don't know where to start.