You were a good person, or at least that's what I can come up with growing up not knowing you at all.
I can't even start this letter. Where will I begin? Knowing so little about my cousin who spends his life in places I never existed, will this pen even be of any worth?
Guessing and imagining how things would've been if we live next door would be my last resort, but you know me, Erwin, I can't lie. I won't lie. Not like this, not with you
Of all my cousins, I look at you for an example. In a bloodline where education is valued, the firstborn from our generation of cousins gets to sit of the pedestal of things the younger progenies must emulate.
I admit, you're the man who never felt the pressure our aunts gave us. You didn't fall for the family line of teachers even though I did.
I remembered you so little that there only a few things I know about you:
You were my cousin.
You didn't finish your studies.
You were ... what else?
I never thought it was possible to miss a lot of facts about you, Erwin.
I can't even cry. Am I hardhearted? Am I stupid for not crying over my deceased cousin?
Am I that dumb?
Guess I won't know the answers. So, tell me, if I died before you did, will you be doing the same?
Will you shed some tears even if you never really knew me?
Will you, kuya?
