Four days ago, life sentenced me with a bitter cup of tea.
“Ma, Tatie just called. Uncle Patrick is in the hospital with liver cancer.” My daughter told me.
About ten minutes later, my older sister walked in, with a puzzled look on her hace. She was on the phone, talking to my younger sister.
“What? What do you mean?” “She responded. “But… are you saying? You mean?”
The next few seconds would forever engraved in the history of my life. Because, I could hear my younger sister’s voice. She was crying so loud, I could explicitly hear every word she was saying. By then, tears were burstiang with full foce from our eyes.
I sat there speechless. Not knowing what to say, I started to rock my body back and forth. “This is the best way I could challenge my disbelief.” I thought to myself.
“We must go to LA. Sis. The doctors don’t believe he’ll make it through thursday.” My sister said.
We made it to LA. But unfortunately, we were 13 hrs late. Yes, too late to say our goodbyes.
Yes, our loving, kind, humorous brother passed away three days later from the heartbreaking news. He was only 53 years old.
We are still trying to swallow this large grain of salt.
They say “Life is a bitch.” I don’t beg to differ. And one day I shall find my thrill when I serve that “B” a cup of her own medicine.
Excuse my language. But I’m not only mourning, but I am MAD!