It was 2014 — I remember it clearly because it was the first (and only) time I ever ranked first in class. As always on report card day, you were there, driving — no, accompanying, my mom to school.

Fast forward nine years, January 2023, you sat behind the wheel again — this time to drive the whole family to my graduation ceremony.

Being born into a big family, I never paid much attention to anyone outside of my mom, dad, and sisters. But somehow, in these important milestones of my life, you were there. And I can’t thank you enough for that.

If in my 25 years your presence has left such a deep impact on me, I can’t begin to imagine how much it must have meant to my mother to lose her beloved brother.

Mang, for me and my sister, you weren’t just an uncle. You were like the older brother we never had.

We’ll always remember your kindness, even though you were so nonchalant about it.

This past week, I keep thinking how it all feels too soon. Not once had I ever thought about a future without you. I always pictured a future where you were still here.

If this was meant to be, then I hope it’s because Allah missed you more than we ever could.

I hope heaven has heard of your kindness and welcomes you with open arms.

Rest in peace, Mang.

Al-Fatihah.

I still remember holding you dearly in my arms last night, you looking all bothered because you just want to be left alone… I guess you hate me because I always told you to not go outside. The world outside is cruel, people there don’t see you the way I see you. Some people don’t care if there are someone who think you’re important to them or if there are people who wait for you to be home everyday, just like the people who hurted you then abandoned you in the middle of the road this morning. Maybe it’s too late to tell you now because you’ve gone forever, but even if I had the chance to tell that, I know you wouldn’t listen to me because you just like it very much; sitting around outside and having strangers pet you on the head. You are good girl and one of a kind.

I’m thankful and sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry if I wasn’t a good owner to you, and I’m mostly grateful for the unconditional companionship you gave to me in a time when life’s being funny. I will remember you dearly. Rest in peace, Bonbon. This world, truly, does not deserve you.

Coming home is terrible
whether the dogs lick your face or not;
whether you have a wife
or just a wife-shaped loneliness waiting for you.
Coming home is terribly lonely,
so that you think
of the oppressive barometric pressure
back where you have just come from
with fondness,
because everything’s worse
once you’re home.

You think of the vermin
clinging to the grass stalks,
long hours on the road,
roadside assistance and ice creams,
and the peculiar shapes of
certain clouds and silences
with longing because you did not want to return.
Coming home is
just awful.

And the home-style silences and clouds
contribute to nothing
but the general malaise.
Clouds, such as they are,
are in fact suspect,
and made from a different material
than those you left behind.
You yourself were cut
from a different cloudy cloth,
returned,
remaindered,
ill-met by moonlight,
unhappy to be back,
slack in all the wrong spots,
seamy suit of clothes
dishrag-ratty, worn.

You return home
moon-landed, foreign;
the Earth’s gravitational pull
an effort now redoubled,
dragging your shoelaces loose
and your shoulders
etching deeper the stanza
of worry on your forehead.
You return home deepened,
a parched well linked to tomorrow
by a frail strand of…

Anyway…

You sigh into the onslaught of identical days.
One might as well, at a time…

Well…
Anyway…
You’re back.

The sun goes up and down
like a tired whore,
the weather immobile
like a broken limb
while you just keep getting older.
Nothing moves but
the shifting tides of salt in your body.
Your vision blears.
You carry your weather with you,
the big blue whale,
a skeletal darkness.

You come back
with X-ray vision.
Your eyes have become a hunger.
You come home with your mutant gifts
to a house of bone.
Everything you see now,
all of it: bone.

[transcribed from the movie “I’m Thinking of Ending Things”, i liked the poem so much and i feel the need to rewrite it again because it left some kind big impact to me, make sure you watch the movie, it’s on Netflix!!]