My Heart's Echoes: Aljon, You are Missed

There is a specific kind of silence that follows the departure of a younger brother. 

It is a heavy, echoing stillness. I find myself reaching for you in the middle of ordinary moments, only to realize that your presence is now a memory I can no longer touch.

Gimingaw ko nimo, Aljon. Pagka-sakit palandungon nga wala na ka.

I once believed that the day you left us was the hardest day I would ever endure. I was wrong. The hardest days are these countless days that follow—the "after" that carries the sharpest sting. During the day, I keep my mind a frantic hive of activity. I fill the hours with work and noise, building a fortress of busyness just to forget for a moment.

Pero inig human sa tanan, kung ako na lang usa... diha na mo-atake ang kamingaw.

When the world finally settles and I am alone, your absence occupies every corner of my being. My mind spins with the "if onlys"—the desperate wish to rewind the clock, to keep you here, to understand why it was you, my younger brother, who had to leave us so soon.

Ngano ikaw man jud, Al? Sa kadaghan sa tawo, ngano ikaw man?

There is a bittersweet comfort in knowing you have reached your destination. I tell myself you are in a place where the air is easy to breathe, where the heavy pains and the sickness that clouded your days have vanished into light. 

You are with the Lord, and for that, I am grateful. No more pain. No more suffering.

Apan bisan pa niana, pait gihapon. Sakit kaayo nga nawala ka namo.

How do we move on when everything I see and everywhere I go reminds me of you? My heart is still holding on because letting go feels like losing you all over again. 

I may never truly "move on," but I will carry you with me—in every prayer, in every memory, and in every silent moment where I still call your name.

Dili ka malimtan, Aljon. Magpabilin ka sa akong kasing-kasing, hangtud sa atong pagkakita pag-usab.