He wears thick gold bracelets and rings festooned with diamonds; he speaks with his big raging voice as though always inviting of a debate; he stands with the military erectness of his body like nothing can make him fall …
… My ever boastful, powerful, and proud father had a sudden death, the cause of which is heat stroke, they say.
THE BOWL WAS EMPTY. I’ve filled it for about the second or third time with butong pakwan (those salted, dried watermelon seeds people pull out from their brittle, roasted rind). Though never addicted to butong pakwan since childhood, I’ve tried them back then, doing the same thing: placing them on a plate, so my sister could actually eliminate their roasted rind using her bare hands for me. This time, however, it felt different. Pouring butong pakwan into the bowl, I felt my heart throbbing—because the serving was for my father’s funeral.