sisig will never be the same without you

i got your name wrong the first time. the day after my first dumol class which i shared with you, i remember you calling me the 3rd "v" in the office, and i remember saying back, "and you're paolo rosal".

you were shocked, insulted even. you dropped your jaw in that theatrical, ever so slightly exaggerated way you do things sometimes, and corrected me. i blushed a little, thinking, damn, it's my second day in this freezer they call faculty room and i've probably crossed the path of the office jester and he'd probably hate me forever and ever, amen.

you didn't, at least i don't think so. but i was never your favorite, always wishing for art to be your teaching assistant once more. sometimes, i'd think you hate me and my evil ways, but then you'd have something special, like a harry potter button, for me, or a christmas gift, or offer me a ride home.

there's so much to remember - probably cause i've known you longer than the man i hope to marry. there's your huge red bag when we went up to baguio, and the many times i cried on your shoulder over yet another failed relationship. there's you offering your brother as my date for my best friend's wedding, and him actually accepting the invitation. the birthday parties at art's house, your excitement over anything connected to mau and mira in general. there's you deleting spam trader cause i always played with it -- while in class -- claiming i can multi-task (and i can, really!). there's the pictures in your palm, the many school visits we had convincing all those chi-chi pre-schools they ought to accept our students for practicum.

i know i put up a brave from the day you told me you'd be leaving. you won the victor neri bet, you claimed. i didn't even blog about you, believing that much like a pimple, the less you thought about it, the better off you'd be. i was wrong.

you're not there to make me laugh, you're not there to piss me off. you're not there to remind me to pipe down, you're not there to tell me my top's "giving way too much information". you're not there to say "i love you patrick" when he calls.

and most of all, you're not there to share the pure, unadulterated joy that bubbles up on tuesdays and thursdays when we chance upon our favorite sisig.