10 AM
After sitting in bed, trying to grasp the rare moments of rest, I yawned myself out of bed.
A full drop of tear. Weird. But nothing to make of it, I thought.
My cellphone rings.
A familiar number, but a half-unexpected news.
Dad called.
It was an unusual opening, nothing of "What are you doing?" nor the lines that were supposed to start off on this day of my life.
"She just passed away."
I can't remember when I started choking myself with tears, but the sounds of Buddhist chants in the background brought me back to reality.
It was real. Not a dream.
"When?" I could barely asked the question, like it really mattered.
"Just now. About 30 min ago." Dad is a man of few words, not because he is, but because he is afraid of giving his emotions away. The brief endings to his sentences gave himself away. I knew he was holding his tears back.
How should I go about facing the day today. I really didn't know how.
The numerous birthday wishes seemed so distant and surreal. How should I receive it?
Heaviness swept my feet away.
When it has to be. It just has to be.
Life goes on.
How ironic.