Open Letters, Writing

To the Man Who Ran Over My Dog With His Car

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To the man who ran over over my dog with his car, know that the picture you’re seeing in this post isn’t my dog whom you ran over. My dog was (was is difficult) was fluffy white, white pinkish lower lip and eyes so wide and innocent and kiss that could fill up my insides with warmth — warmth that you, I figured, could never ever have experienced. I picked out a dog picture which doesn’t resemble my dog because I still can’t bear to see anyone whose features is as close as my baby’s face and body. Because that would mean imagining her with excruciating pain, broken bones and internal bleeding and gawd that would be freaking hard.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, know that all I wanted from you was to feel sorry or at least pretend to be sorry. But what you did was tell my mom that a street is no place for dogs. Of course, that’s the case, but we live in a subdivision. In little, narrow streets which you couldn’t speed away that fast. Mom told me she heard a thud and yet, you went ahead. Only if you did stop to look at what you have hit.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, mom told me she found our baby under our abandoned car across our house, crying of pain, peeing all over the place with her tongue out of her mouth. She got her and did first aid, but she couldn’t help it. Mom didn’t say the word ‘dead’ over the phone. Of course, she wouldn’t. I still have to ask it myself. And when she said yes, I sort of froze and kept asking the details. But, I wasn’t able to sustain it that I have to cry in front of my eight-year old cousin during our supposed to be Mother’s Day out for my aunt and welcome back celebration for me.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, know that you have broken a mother’s heart and a mother’s bones on Mother’s Day. My mom cried as soon as she heard my voice cracked and my dog had 5 one-month-and-a-half babies, all of whom are orphans now. They must have been missing their mom because my dog was a pretty caring and loving mother to all of her babies. She still cleans her first daughter’s ears even though BamBam, that daughter of hers is already four years old. Mom told me BimBim just sit beside her mom’s body all the time after that incident. And what breaks my heart even more is that thought of how her husband, BoomBoom feels. Gawd, that dog is extremely sensitive and I bet he knew what went wrong. He knew that the love of his life wouldn’t be there with him on the coming days.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, know that you have taken away one of my life’s inspirations. That I would forever be longing of my dog’s kiss when I’ll be coming home next week. What’s left of BimBim’s kiss is a dew on top of the plants on the soil that she was buried under. She wouldn’t be there coming all over me when I’ll enter the gate next week. She wouldn’t be there hiding at he back of our house during Christmas Eve this December because she’s afraid of all those firecracker noises. She wouldn’t be there to take care of her kids. She wouldn’t be there to make my BoomBoom happy. She wouldn’t be there to give birth to new puppies who have been making our friends lives a stretch happier.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, I got her five years ago and I even let her sit beside my during one of my review classes. I got her for BoomBoom. But you ended her life in a matter of minutes. You took her away from us without being sorry for us.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, people I care about tell me that I could just go buy another dog, but no. Nobody is irreplaceable. Just like your wife. Just like your kids. An animal cannot be replaced with another animal because one creature is a person of his own. I wish you treat dogs like humans because they get hurt, feel emotions, eat like we do, breathe like we do, they could die and they could be loved. Loved by people and animals alike around them. So, don’t go acting like you haven’t killed somebody because you actually did. Without being sorry.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, if you ever run over another dog the next time, at least fucking say sorry or just pretend that you are. Your lack of compassion has made my baby angel a little more human than you can ever be.

Photo Credit: Flickr

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Journal Entry Excerpts, Writing

Dead Butterflies in My Stomach

I woke up today to a bad news. When I heard my boyfriend sob over the phone, I knew what was wrong. The man has died. His father. Curse cancer cells. But, that’s just his way of saying goodbye to life. Hard. Frustrating. Torturous. And pretty expensive. No one deserves that, but He knows why such things happen.

I kind of knew this day would come. And I know he did too. Tito was a strong man until the second set of chemotherapy. I mean, he can still travel for long hours. He can still walk around the city. He can still do his job at home (he’s a baranggay captain). He still communicates with his sons. He joins in the celebrations — the 1st birthday of her first granddaughter. I didn’t really see him get weak and bedridden.

I was aloof of talking to him on our first few encounters, but as the encounters slowly frequented, he began talking to me. He would ask me to come eat. He would say goodbye whenever we would part ways. He would tell me to eat some siopao while my boyfriend was roaming around the mall with his uncle while we (his dad, sister-in-law and the 4 cute kids) wait for them. I did ate one siopao. I thought and hoped that I could have another dad in him (yeah, I know, I am assuming we’re not yet married) even though I know his situation. I kind of missed my dad. He died too ten years ago, a few weeks after I turned 16 and a few days I became a member of the Youth for Christ.

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I called in sick just to be with my boyfriend today. I felt sick inside. I wouldn’t want him to be alone because being alone with lonely thoughts would drive people mad. And I don’t want a mad boyfriend. I mentally reminded myself not to ask him if he’s okay because I know that he’s not. Losing one parent is hard. Losing two is not just doubly hard. It’s like you lost your home to a typhoon. His mother died when he was sixteen too.

He has to go home to his hometown so I accompanied him to the bus terminal, but he ended up dropping me in a mall where he would take another bus because it’s already running late and I need at least 2-3 hours to go back to my apartment.

Hours back when we were still riding the first bus that we need to take, a woman, in her late 20s suddenly got up and talked about God’s word. I used to feel uncomfortable around them, but now I salute the courage and the willingness that they have just to spread God’s love. As if on cue, she talked about death. Like how we all have one life to live and that we need to see the urgency of the realization that we need to do things that would bring us closer to our Lord. It was sort of comforting and I kind of peeked on my boyfriend if he was listening, but I saw him closing his eyes. He was sleeping. When the talk ended, the lady gave out envelopes for donations to their mission. Our eyes met and I began to pull out my wallet, but he said he had some money on his pocket. My boyfriend and I usually ignore these things, but on that envelope, we actually placed something inside.

Now, he’s on the way back to his hometown and I have no idea until when he’ll be there. The idea of being away from him on his lowest moments just kind of sucked. Now, if only I was only purely working online, I could have accompanied him right then and there. But, I have work. And my Saturday classes would kind of get in the way too. But, I’ll be there with him next week. Or next next week. The days should move out fast. 😦

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