My Longest Ride

...the date was March 8, 2006...It's 8 in the evening and I'm busy preparing my visuals for the 2nd day of our training when my phone rang. It's my brother on the other line..."wala na ang Tatay!" When you hear these words and you're not with your family or worst you're miles and miles way from home, believe me, it's harder.

This was what I experienced when Tatay died. I was in M'lang, North Cotabato in Mindanao when he passed away. I cried for a while but forced myself to compose. I need to make arrangements...call airlines for rebooking (I have to leave the next day), call my husband to fetch me at the airport, contact my coordinator, discuss with the other trainer the topics that I'm suppose to tackle and leave to her the conduct of the training workshop for the next couple of days.

I can't sleep...wondering what's happening in our house back in the province. The feeling was terrible...no one can console you in those moments...

I got up early to catch the bus to Gen.San airport. It took me 45minutes to get that bus. I can't imagine how I composed myself infront of the small store waiting to get a ride. When I was inside the bus and the plane, my tears rolled. I'm not sobbing, no sound at all. Passengers were staring at me. I didn't mind.

That was the longest journey I ever had.