Note: It’s best to play the song while reading. 🙂
Twelve-year old me woke up to see my father, with bloodshot eyes, clutching his Nokia phone. As it is in our family, we learned to speak without words. I did not like where this was going. I got up as he handed over the phone.
I see a text from a doctor in the Philippines, and then my mother’s name. Then the words “…passed away.” Are you kidding me?! With a confused expression, I looked up at him as he tried so hard to avoid my gaze. Was this real? It can’t be true. No. No, it can’t be!
I squinted my eyes and read it again. And again. And again. No. This isn’t true.
I ran out of our flat apartment in Bahrain towards the stairs to the rooftop. It’s not true! It’s not real!
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