The call...

Remember this?

It’s over.

My officemate for over six or seven years (darn, I can’t even remember), my housemate for over two years... a big bro, tatay, and lolo to most of his friends...

He passed away this afternoon...



I received the call in the middle of a project meeting.

It was my boss.

Normally he wouldn’t do that – to call us knowing we are in a meeting.

He asked me to pass the phone to our project director, who was speaking at that time. In a hushed voice, she told me that she has been ignoring her phone ringing repeatedly in her pocket.

But his request was firm, and I have no choice but to interrupt our director, and hand her my phone.

The gasp and panicked voice made almost everyone turn from the meeting table. Judging from her expression, whatever our boss was telling her, it was bad.

Really bad.

When she walked back to the table, she first apologized and broke the news to everyone.

Our Senior Programmer passed away.

Condolences were extended, and the meeting have to go on.

It was hard... To not to shed a tear in front of the meeting. I wanted to break something. Anything.

But I can't.

Under the table, my hand were shaking, and I cannot understand half of what was being discussed.

Darn you!

Darn you! We were playing billiards just last week, you stubborn ox, and not even our bosses could make you put down that freakin’ bottle of beer.

Damn damn damn damn!

Shit.





Sigh...

Peace, King Tot.

Wherever you are, I’m sure you are in a better place.

I’ll dedicate my first bottle of beer to you.

Cheers!

And I'm not done writing about you just yet. More to follow.