Goodbye Joshua

I’ll be doing my biggest fan a belated favor by letting him share the vanity of seeing their name online: Joshua D. Bueno (Feb7,1989-Oct18,2007). I wonder if the dead browse the web though.

He was battling with Leukemia while I was having imaginary nose bleeding from all my finals work. The bodily fluid I shed the day I received the news included no tears.

I simply wasn’t in the mood to mourn. I thought I had already mourned his loss 3 years ago when we had graduated from high school. I developed the habit of crying over people during separations and forgetting all about them afterwards. He was one of the last to wish me well then. He said I’d get far. But then again, I did say he was my biggest fan. He always went out of his way to give me encouragement and praise. I never really took him seriously. I always regarded him as a delusional bumpkin (whom I suspected was too shy to go out of the closet) just because he thought I was worth anything. As far as I was concerned, it was the last time I’d see the boy. I was right.

As soon as I started college, I tried forgetting everything. I changed my number, my friendster account, my name. I tried fitting into a new life without the supposed dead. I couldn’t prevent meeting old classmates, and hearing about how others were doing. I heard Bueno was a constant Dean’s Lister, besides being active in the student council of St Paul’s Business School in Tacloban. I also heard he had developed a fashion sense and had found himself a beauty queen of a girlfriend (there goes my closet queen theory).

On October 16, I received a message from my mother that Bueno was in the hospital. They were apparently discussing me. My mom told me about the pride in his voice when he talked about what he had been hearing about me. It was as if he was seeing me on the road of success as he predicted. He didn’t know how off course I was. My mom suggested I call him. But I was running low on load, and I had a hundred other excuses.

It wasn’t real to me until I actually saw his corpse and talked to his mom. Our eyes brimmed with tears as she recounted how optimistic he was despite the odds. He’d accept any amount his parents would give him. He had no vices, and even to the very end, he told his mother to keep on fighting, because like chess, even if you lose a piece, you can still win.

I realized he never became a different person. He would always be my bumpkin friend, and the least I could have done was to call him up while he was still alive. We never really know what we have until it is lost. And I never knew how much I really cared until it dawned upon me that I’d never hear his cheesy lines anymore, and know that he meant every word.

Goodbye Joshua. Though I never told you, you could’ve been larger than life.