Deciding to write about my grief, i type the password to access my blog with the names of my two "boys" King & Prince. One of whom passed away so suddenly just yesterday I can barely catch my breath to cry. A little more than three years came to an abrupt end for one of my boys and now i could barely remember where all the days went. Or my memory of him was galloped by the hole of a bullet that shot through my heart when i saw him breathe his last.
So death is real. And the pain creeps up my spine like the coldest of ice in the most freezing temp. At practically 35, i would still like to deny this fact and hope to find my boy, King, a West Highland breed, drinking joyfully his water like i would my cup of fresh brewed when i go down for breakfast every morning. I still came home today from work hoping to find two of my boys eagerly waiting for me to enter the gate as they always would every single day, with eyes all wide and mouths ajar, both begging for pats, hugs and kisses like i was the Beiber or a Leonardo. Our helpers would say they both would be waiting for me even minutes before my car would even reach the house. I would still like to find him all curled up under our daybed when reprimanded or when he calls it a day. My King and I shared the love for food. And we both would gain like blow fishes would. Thus, we both tried to do our own share of exercise whenever we can. King and my other cutest little boy, Prince, would go walking every morning with their yaya Je-an without fail. They did better working out than i ever did these past months. A trip to High Street on Sundays would get both boys all excited, enough to make them run like crazy baboons even before they are carried to the car, and enough to make me scold them to keep still or the trip would be off to which they would usually willingly oblige. King was my boy but he was my mom's baby. She took care of him like she would a grandson, even cancel or cut short trips to come home sooner. King was trained well to be the good boy that he was by my mom who spoiled him with love and extra servings of Alpo behind my back sometimes. hehe. Had i known our King only had so short a time to live, i maybe could have spoiled him also with more time together being the busy dad that i always was.
Later today our King is coming home in an urn. And it was just a few days ago that this lively bundle of white cottony joy would be prancing all around the house with his "little big brother" Prince, a chi hua hua. I would like to believe our King lived a life of royalty that i tried to provide where happiness reigned in his heart in the three years that he filled our home and hearts with innocent joys and unconditional loves.
King never learned how to go down our stairs for some strange reason. That's why my mom took the funny liberty of letting him sit there for a few minutes when scolded like how Dennis would be asked to sit and stare on the wall for his menaces, only for us to give in to his innocent stares of apology. Oftentimes his brother Prince would join there and keep him company.
We always wondered when our King would learn how to go down our stairs like how his brother would. I guess now we will never find out. But come to think of it, he doesn't really anymore have to learn how to get off our stairs, 'cause he now has wings to fly.
To our dear King, our family will miss you terribly and thank you for the little time that we had....Papa will always love you and he misses you so much already. I know your little big brother Prince and I will see you again someday and maybe there we will be speaking the same language. :)
