Baykoy and The Only Something
This is a gripping and magical tale of a little Filipino girl who goes by an endearing nickname, Baykoy.
It’s a wild-bursting battle against her beliefs in angels and the powers of heaven as she gets to confront and experience the supernatural realms that may hold the supreme truths of death and life cycles while coping with grief and loss.
The story is told through the heart-convulsing letters of a woman to her niece, detailing her childhood in the Philippines.
Age: Four years old.
— indomitable —
The Beautiful Cherub – 3
The church service had long vanished from my memory.
What I remember now is a lot more chilling and stupendous.
There was a flock of mourners. Faces that I had never seen before. All ages. Even babies in their parents’ arms were there. For what special reason, I didn’t know. All I knew was, it was about the beautiful cherub awaiting his final resting place.
It was a mere portrait of solidarity of the entire town. The solidarity of grief. The solidarity of all hearts. The solidarity of mortality.
Your mother and I were in the funeral van. With the beautiful cherub. We would peek into the casket. We could still see his peaceful face through the glass. As it drove along, prayer chanting and gospel singing were uttered. As grief breathed on. Crying, loud laments, an awful thud of emotional torment. It was the biggest day. It was also the saddest day. It was the only day when I felt the enchanting presence of angels.
Somewhere in the crowd. Above the funeral van. With me and your mother.
The beautiful cherub’s face was not only peaceful. There was a subtle smile. There was a wondrous relief. No more suffering. No more fighting for oxygen. No more heaving frights.
No more chuckles. The giddy chuckles. The innocent chuckles of a two-year-old spirit. Our shared moment on the front steps. As I pleaded for him to cry. As he would just stare at me, with his glowing eyes. Our shared moment in his hospital room. As we rang the yellow toy bell. As our hilarity was witnessed by endearing eyes.
Now his eyes were closed. Our eyes streamed down tears. As the heaven’s eyes watched over us. As your mother and I had no fear.
Though I never understood as to why your mother and I had to share the funeral van with the beautiful cherub. I never bothered to ask your grandma about it. Perhaps, there was no other ride available. However, all of them just treaded the roads all the way to the cemetery. Even folks with babies in their arms. It felt like a long winding ceremonial walk. As the funeral van drove along slowly. In an obliging rhythm. Non-stop. Just in an obliging rhythm.
Your mother and I never spoke a word to each other the whole time through. Not one word. We would exchange glances once in a while. Sadness was felt. We knew he was gone forever. And it was the only time that we realized that he was really gone forever.
Jiji, your uncle, was gone.
As his peaceful face was seen through the casket glass.
The beautiful cherub’s biggest day.
It was also his last.
— Indomitable —