In Memory Of

Dear Nhurzy,

It hurts.

Everytime I hear your name it hurts me, a dull, numbing, physical pain.

I look at our photo albums, any album, and it hurts. It hurts when I go through all the photos I've accumulated throughout my entire life and I realize that for the first 15 years you were in every other photo.

It hurts like hell when everything in my life has a connection to you because of our shared history.

When I turn on the computer, when I open all my online accounts, my websites, and I see how you're ever-present, everywhere, it hurts.

Everytime I cry, there's a hollow, right in the middle of my heart, where it hurts the most.

Remember when we used to dance? The Pandanggo Sa Ilaw, was it? The Itik-Itik dance? The crazy dance steps you taught us?

Remember our stupid Boyzone parties at Suad's house? Where we'd spend all night watching their music videos? Oh, I remember now, you hated them. You were there to make fun of us and how we loved those "faggots".

Remember our football jerseys in Sophomore High? Go Lakers? You used to wear the jersey bunched up at the tummy and tied in a knot to show off your abs.

Remember the Detroit Pistons and the love of our life, Grant Hill?

Remember when we used to wear nothing underneath our abayas because no one would notice anyway? You taught us how to wear our tarhas a certain way, like a trademark, you me, Ice. You know, press it against our foreheads then tie it at the back? So we look gangsta while we walked around and around the school campus under the sweltering sun?

Remember our middle-finger photos?

Remember the videotapes we made? Spoof music videos, speeches, dedications, dancing, head-banging, monkeying around?

Remember the times we were all together as a family? Suad? Jehanifah? Latifah? Ayesha? You? Me? At Ayesha's house eating Indomie after skipping classes? The Busaw Family? Do you remember?

Do you remember how much fun we had?

Do you remember when we suddenly grew up? When we suddenly had breasts and our periods and suddenly Mozi was the "cutest" guy in the universe?

Do you remember your cats? All six or seven of them? I don't remember how many, but I'm sure YOU remember. You had names for every single one of them, remember? They were your babies.

Do you remember that time you and your baby sister came to spend a night in our house and she cried because we didn't have corn flakes and she wanted to eat corn flakes?

Remember how we used our brothers as postmen for our letters? Remember what your letters said? "Ness, if you really like Allan, I'm sorry but he just came to my house and asked me to have sex with him." Crazy-ass stuff like that. My father once received a letter from you on my behalf coz I wasn't home, and he was outraged. We were 13 years old then.

Remember the fights? When we fought? We were divided then. Latifah fainted. Suad and Jehanifah were screaming obscenities. Ice was just whimpering in the corner. You and I moved left and right and screamed obscenities, too. Putangina mo!! Miyabunu ka!! No one would come near us because we were the Maranao girls and our rage terrified the shit out of them.

Remember when you first came to Manila and you sent us that voice tape? You hated Manila. And your first day in your new school was a disaster. You sent us pictures. Lots of them. Then we sent you back a million voice tapes and a huge bottle of Jeddah's finest and cheapest shatta Hot Sauce, your favorite.

Do you remember when things changed in college? The incident with your ugly-ass maid? How we laughed about your foolishness?

You were always mischievous, but you were NEVER DISHONEST.

Do you remember when you came to our Manila townhouse and we locked ourselves in my room with two packs of Marlboro Lights? We didn't even have Coca Cola to cool our throats with, but it was alright, we couldn't afford it anyway.

Do you remember the last time we'd ever be together? Our reunion right before I came back to Jeddah not six months ago? At the karaoke bar with Jehanifah and Jiehan? Beer, song, and cigarettes? The stupid tambourines ever-present at Korean videoke bars? I was in my "tennis-slash-badminton" outfit then, because I had to pretend I was going out to hit some balls when I was really going out with my friends. Remember how you drove Jiehan's car?

Do you remember last week how we chatted on Yahoo? You were teasing me about my love life. I was teasing you about your new car. Dude, I love your car and I haven't even seen it. "Fuck you, Ness," you said.

Do you remember the last words you told me?

"Miyasokaran ka, Baboy. Love ya, Nessreen."

I didn't reply. I signed out because you were pissing me off royally, you freaking bitch.

Do you remember?

Because I do. It hurts to remember. I choke. I'm out of breath. With the pain.

Do you remember two days ago how Jehanifah and I talked on the phone and cried and laughed at the same time, saying how this sounded like the kind of prank you would pull on us to get our attention?

Do you remember how she and I, we said, "This is unreal. This is a dream. She can't be gone."

Do you remember last night how I cried and my parents didn't know what to do with me? My grief had taken residence in my room. It stayed with me and followed me around the house. I cried because I lost you. We lost you. I cried because I didn't know how painful it was for you and I wished and wished and cried and wished some more and prayed that you went quickly and painlessly.

Do you remember?

No?

You don't?

Is that why it hurts?

It hurts me that I have to ask for your forgiveness now. Forgive me for all the wrong I've done, for anything I've said to hurt you, for any gesture that made it look like I don't want you in my life anymore.

It hurts me like fucking hell that you will never read this.

We love you, sister girl. Always have, always will. We are family.

Rest in peace, Nhurzy. You're our number one girl. Sister. Friend. Soulmate. Yosi-Buddy. Family.