Butong pakwan (watermelon seeds)

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.

Unexpectedly all of a sudden

To redundantly say that his death is unexpectedly all of a sudden could be an understatement. My father, that debonair (turning) 65-year-old man, is even stronger than I am.

The sunlight has entered my room through the window. From there, I gathered it was time to get up for work. In my peripheral view, I saw my phone was vibrating. The light signal at the bottom part of it was already blinking. I thought it was my daily alarm clock, which wakes me up at around 7 a.m. I picked up my phone to dismiss the alarm, but then I saw it was our home landline in City of San Fernando (Pampanga).

This is weird, I thought. It isn’t yet Friday.