My love poems and love songs, written on a piece of paper blotted by tears falling like rain, are ready. Ready to be recited and sung. The flowers are also ready – neatly arranged by a florist/friend, and so are the candles, the handkerchief and the letter. I readied them all yesterday. Then, I asked myself, “Am I ready to face you again? Am I ready to go to the cemetery?”

Am I ready after many years of neglect and disregard? Am I ready to admit that it was also my fault? Am I ready to admit above your grave that I miss you so much? Am I ready to say my last goodbye? These are the questions bugging my convoluted mind at this very moment, questions that I shied away for the past years simply because I was afraid to answer them. I am scared because I do not know what answers I must give, because I do not know whether there are answers to these nagging questions. In fact I am too scared to admit that you are gone, too scared that I never visited your grave for three years, too scared to ask for forgiveness, too scared because I never said goodbye.

After three years, I am still in a state of shock and denial. How I wish that I was also there beside you on that night of your accident. But just like any tragic movies, the man would always be left behind, weeping and feeling sorry for himself, half-wishing that he may be taken by the lord at that very moment.

After three long years, I could not still accept that you are gone. I still believe that you also exist in this plane of existence. You may not have a body but your essence is still floating and soaring like air moving freely here, there and everywhere. I know you are always at my side, comforting me when I am depressed, lifting me up when I am down, and guiding me in every step I take. To me, you are not gone but simply everywhere. But alas, as I try to catch you and hug you, you slip away just like the air.

I admit a part of me died when you departed. A part of me went with you on your grave. I could not even recognize the face I see across the mirror, barely recognizing it as my own. A face in anguish and in disbelief, tormented by a love lost. A face void of expression, scarred by the abrupt loss. At that very moment, I ceased to live because your love was the only thing that sustains me. I became a hobo of sorts; just waiting for the time, waiting it to pass by as the world is running amok Time became my enemy as well, as I frantically counted the days passing by. Minutes became hours, hours became days, days became months and months became years. Each passing day became an ordeal, the pain becoming intolerable by the second. Now I understand Atlas’ situation, carrying the world above his shoulders.

I promised you that I will love you for the rest of my life. I’ve kept that promise for three years because I love you so much, so much that I was willing to love you even if you are gone. And I did my end of the bargain. At first it gave me strength but later on it became a curse hanging around my neck. For three long years, I became a broken man: weeping in my bed, hoping that someday I will be free from the curse that was my undoing; that someday I will be at peace with myself again. But you never gave me the peace I wanted dearly. You would always let me remember that dreary night. God knows how I wished that I was also there, trying to save you from three killer/ rapists, slicing their guts as I try to defend you from these soulless jackals. But fate would not let me. Fate would just not let me. Probably this is my destiny: to live my life full of pain and suffering.

My promise is the reason of this madness. My promise is the reason why I became a monster, a horror, a despicable creature waiting for time to pass by, a person who barely recognize himself, a soul shattered into pieces. Lest I become a walking zombie, I must free myself from the shackles of that promise. And if I fail to do so, my heart would always be a barren and desolate desert/wasteland: crying for rain, pleading for mercy, gasping for freedom.

But for God’s sake let me live again, let me breathe! Let me live my life again without the bondage of guilt! Allow me to break the promise for I am too suffering greatly. Because I do not want anymore to see my self rotting away into oblivion, wasting my life like some gold thrown at the middle of the ocean.

Now as I ready myself to visit you at your grave this all soul’s day, my only wish is that you accept my answers and peace offerings. And I hope you would also accept and understand that I will break the promise that I made before. Even if it is contrary to your wishes, I will leave the cemetery a broken man with a broken promise.