I came to see a festival here in the Philippines. It was my father’s idea to come here since it is his home country. He told me that, there are times that we enjoy being in other places where we haven’t been before but sometimes, there is still no place like home. Those words were stuck in my head for some time. I don’t really enjoy being here since we are staying in a provincial place. There is not much technology that could entertain me. I feel like I am isolated from the world outside. I just can’t help myself not being able to contact to my friends in Canada. The only thing that makes me feel at home here is the small hut where we used to be with my family. My dad and I would go there together with mom. Mom is the only woman I have ever loved in the whole world. I could still remember the time when we were having our family vacation at the hut eating fresh ripe mangoes. Mangoes were her favorite. All of this just disappeared in one tragic night. The atmosphere was just like this. It was dark, cold, and all you hear is the people screaming in excite as the festival goes. I was a youngster back then. Looking left and right as I see people doing awesome tricks that would amaze me so much. When I have come to my senses, I realized that I needed my mom to come and see the festival with me. The first place that popped out of my head was the hut. So I decided to go look for her there. By the time I arrived at the hut, I could see my mom writing something at the table inside the hut. The first thought that came into my mind was that, she was writing a letter. Though it looks more like a note. As she writes this note, I could see her panicking. She is writing a note as if she was being chased by something. Her tears were falling like rain. I ran to the hut to see if she was okay. I took a few steps up the stairs. As my vision arises from the ground, to the stairs and up to the interior of the hut, I didn’t know what to do. She was unconsciously lying on the wooden flooring as if it has already been hours. I swore I just saw her just a few seconds ago from afar that she was still awake. Panicking, I ran to my father and told him what happened. We brought mom to the hospital right after, but, they told us that they can’t revive her anymore. As a young boy, I didn’t how to react. My tears started to fall. From my right, I could hear one of the nurses say, “Why would they bring someone to the hospital who died 10 hours ago?” I was shocked, how could they even say that she died 10 hours ago if I just saw her awake only for the past 10 minutes? I didn’t want to start a commotion so I just left the idea as if it was just my mere child imagination. Now that I’m 18, back to the same place to where I last saw my mother, it brings back so much memories. It is quite difficult to write during these kinds of times especially now that I’m walking. It is dark, cold, and all I hear is the people screaming in excite at the festival. I am heading to the hut and I can see something at the table. Going into the hut, on top of the table was a note. The note says, “To Jared.” I am confused, I continued to read the inscriptions, “My boy, by the time you are reading this, your body had come to its end. It may have already lost its heat caused by the freezing temperature. You may not notice it at once but you would realize it soon. I’m sorry if your fate was connected to mine. It was a curse that our family had been carrying. Generations and generations have passed and you were the last. We were all waiting for your return so we can all go to our next lives, as a family.” I dropped the note. I looked at the floor and I saw my father. He was crying in pain. I shouted at him, but he wasn’t responding. I continued to shout at him but there was still no response, as if he couldn’t hear me. I tried to grab his arm but my hand just passed through him. Looking closely, I realized that, he was crying right on top of me. My body is clearly seen on the floor lying unconsciously. I again started to tear up as I try to tell my father that I’m still here. My voice is just getting weaker and weaker as I continued to speak to him. No sound came out from my mouth soon after. All I could do left is watch my father cry in despair. I felt alone for a while, until I heard a voice. It was soft, very familiar. A voice that I haven’t heard for the last 10 years. I turned around and approached the voice. It came from a ray of light. There was nowhere left to go anyways. In the end, all I have left was a voice to follow.
