Purpose

Finale

"Sedric Zade Cullia, wake up!" I groaned and half-opened my eyes. I saw mom, looking at me angrily with her arms across her chest.

"Mom, I'm 25 years old. You can't wake me up like this." I demanded as I sat down my bed. I yawned.

"Yes. You're 25. But wasn't it today?" I gave her a clueless expression.

"Oh my goodness! You can't remember her? You can't... I can't..." She fanned herself using her hand. I giggled and stood up to reach her. I embraced her.

"Mom, there's no way I'll forget." I said to her. She groaned at the realization that I was making fun of her.

I know how much Mom wants to see her. Meet her. That's why she's so supported about everything that has something to do with Fatima. She liked her even without meeting her.

"You little brat! You're 25 and yet you still play pranks?! Ugh! How could I have a child like you?" She pushed me away as I giggled at her reaction.

"Great. You just gave me what I expected."

"Ugh, you're just like your father..." She tilted her head in disapproval as she walked outside my room. I chuckled.

"But you still love him anyways." She stopped and smiled.

"I still do." I gave her a comforting smile. Just then she was snapped back and faced me angrily again.

"Now get your butt out of your room, young man. You still have to visit her today before you get back on your work." I laughed.

I'm 25 years old now. I'm working now. And as nice as my manager gets, he gave me the week off. Well, they do every year for various occasions like this. The rest, just for a day off.

"Okay." She averted her gaze.

"I'm not a young man, you know." She pouted.

"I do know. What can I do? I'm a mom!" She defended as she walked out completely out of my room. I scratched the back of my head.

"Man. Now she's telling me I'm old enough." I chuckled. I looked at the wide picture frame beside my lamp. Wide but the picture was so fitted in. It got the size of a ruler. I smiled and sat again at my bed.

"Hi." I greeted even though knowing that no one would answer me back. I ran my finger at the picture.

"I miss you so much." I whispered.

Looking at the picture everyday, calms me down. It reminds me the time where we went to the mall and only I assumed it was a date. The day I said I love her. The day she said I should prevent it. But if I prevented it and we didn't get together. What could have happened?

Maybe, I guess, I'll really be devastated and angry at myself for not trying and not courting her. I'm glad I did. We spent most of our time together and every second I would cherish.

I snapped myself up and giggled at myself as I scratch the back of my head. "I'm such a melodramatic." I tilted my head and stood up making my way through my room to my bathroom.

Today is her funeral anniversary. And every relative, friend, family would gather at the cemetery to celebrate. Not because she's gone. Because we all know that she loves parties, get together and reunion. And we all know that this would make her happy.

I still visit her alone, though. Year by year or month by month. Everytime an anniversary and mother comes by. Because... we didn't broke up. She's just... not here.

"Mom, are you done?" I asked walking out of my bathroom and starting to get dressed. I looked at my closet and chose the cloth I wore that day. Navy blue.