Now that my friend Silver is dead, I would just probably talk about me. No, we were not that close and another no; I refuse to make him the main topic of what is about to be written. Being the self-centered prick that I am, I will talk about my thoughts, my two cents’ worth, and my own self-pontifications about what had just transpired. (Just count how many I’s, my’s, and me’s are peppered on this–)
I got the news at around 5 in the morning through our friend Rey. I read the text message, and then read it again making sure the optic nerve in my brain wasn’t giving me the wrong nerve impulse from the stimulus. Yes. He is dead. I shall now skip the details of the part where all of my friends had a furious discussion as to what happened exactly, planning altogether to visit his funeral but ending up with just me, Athenee’, Adrian, Vincent, Doc Ryan, Carla, and kuya Ronald.
It took us four hours to travel from Baguio to Nueva Ecija… and his wake was more of a vaudeville than a solemn final tribute. His girl friends (note of the space between the words) each took their turn on the podium reminiscing the good times with him. One claimed they had an undeniable connection (“Hindi po talaga maipapaliwanag pero parang kami lang talaga ang nagkakaintindihan…”) The other one insisted she was the poor best friend whom he had always comforted and cared for despite their socio-economic gap, as if Silver is an Ayala and she— uh, a farm girl (“Ako po yung representative ng mga kaibigan ni Silver sa maralitang sektor…”) The third said she was her “nanay”(Ako naman yung representative from [name of company]). By the way, the first two girls admitted they had a secret crush with Silver. (They were probably too shy to admit it that they would just have to wait for him to die first before finally confessing it in front of hundreds of people- shy indeed.) I just hoped June was there. We all agreed it was June who was the most fitting envoy from our group. (“Ako naman po yung kaibigan niya representing the City of Pines!) The wake lasted for four hours (I walked out whenever someone would talk about Silver and ended up talking about himself/herself. I come back, then walked out again when another grand standing ensues. Geez, the amount of narcissism these days) which was really long, exhausting, and hungering. “Dennis, wag ka nang aalis. Malapit na ‘tong matapos.” Kuya Ronald would then admonish me.
(Time to shift back the focus once again to ME). Yes, I am sad. No, I didn’t go hysterical. Yes, I hate the slut who caused all of these brouhaha. And no, I don’t want to create an elaborate scheme where she ends up so ruined, lonely, and desperate that she wished she were never born.
I am mad at Silver. He was supposed to be better than this. He once slapped me hard with his life motto about making every second of your life count when I was contemplating of hedonism. He, more than anyone else, knew and understood the real value of time— that is to be spent either making your or others’ lives as meaningful as you can. He was supposed to be the avatar of righteousness (well, Father Adrian the other of course). The one who cannot be demolished by petty human flaws. If there’s somebody who has the most sense among us, it was him. I had my share of love issues too. They may not have been Hollywood or MMFF material nevertheless they were painful too. I thought I can never recover until I just woke up one morning and realized I forgot what it felt like.
Like I said, I hate the slut who caused all of this— but at least I understand her. She is shallow. She equates love with plain physical compatibility. She’s not any better than a teenager who claims maturity but acts the total opposite of it.
They said his moment of weakness got the better of him. He gave his pure, passionate love to a woman who was never worth it. Now he can never take it back and give to somebody who would cherish and nurture it. Ever.
I do not blame Silver for his death. I do not have the have no moral ascendancy to. I may not truly understand why he did it… but I somehow know that it’s easy to dictate the “what should have been-s” because we were not in his shoes.
His name is Silver Faith Reyes. We were never close. He made a bad decision. And I have been given something to bitch about.
June 19, 2012 (11:43 pm)