This is something I got from the pinoywriters mailing list. It's a piece from Dr. Mike Muin. Considering the pain I am in right now, I would like to share what he wrote. I am hoping you will also learn and start thinking from this story. And from mine.



Departing Angel



Not minding the cold breeze, I opened the window overlooking the city
and barely noticed the myriad of lights flickering in the evening
horizon. The silk curtains danced with the wind, gently brushing against my
arm. I stared blankly into the cloudless night, as my mind wandered to
a small space somewhere behind me.



She had just finished packing. The annoying sound of small personal
belongings placed in their appropriate luggage pockets was terminated by
the slow and deliberate closing of the main zipper. From the corner of
my eye, I could sense her eyes scanning the room-starting from the bed,
to the paintings on the wall, to the flowers, and, finally, to the
framed picture at the bedside table. She picked it up and bid her time
looking at that piece of captured memory. With a gentle, almost
imperceptible sigh, she placed it faced down at the head of the bed.



Then, with a voice that almost cried, she whispered my name.



"Mike. I."



"Shhh.", I politely interrupted her, knowing there was no need for
explanations or emotional utterances. I turned around, rested my weight
on the windowsill and looked at her intently. I made an effort to smile.



She moved towards me in a motion more purposeful than walking, yet
more graceful than running. We embraced so tight I could almost sense her
pain reaching out to mine. Still in my arms, I looked at her; her face
that inhabited my dreams for so long; her eyes that carried both
laughter and sadness; her hair that gladly cuddled each stroke of my hands.
My God, she was beautiful. I carefully etched these glimpses of her
beauty in my memory. I planted a kiss on her forehead, and proceeded to the
lips with slight hesitation. Her lips received mine with a passion that
opened a dam in my mind, overflowing it with sweet memories. The
yearning in my heart filled me with extreme sadness.



After the kiss-and still in my arms-she brought her hands to my face
and caressed it, like she has done a thousand times not so long ago. I
savored each and every loving touch, knowing I shall never dare to be
this intimate with her again.



Like falling leaves, her hands slid down my arms to reach for mine.
She held my hands up to her lips and slowly brought them down. Her
eloquent eyes gazed at me, searching my heart, as she gave me one last
smile-a sad smile that carried the weight of the surrounding silence. She
carefully turned around, walked to her luggage and headed out the
door-without once looking back. And those few seconds were to be the most
painful seconds of my life.



As soon as I heard the click on the door, I gradually swept my eyes
to the floor and then out of the window into the deep cloudless
night-now, mindful of the cold breeze, and noticing, almost for the first time,
the myriad of lights on the evening horizon, as they began to dim and
float on a sea of tears.