I am the center of attraction. Everyone I had loved and cared about are either sitting or standing in front of me. I never thought this moment will ever happen. They are silent. Some are just staring at where I am and some are having small talks with the persons next to them. It’s my first time hearing them talk good stuffs about me; my family, my closest friend, and even my acquaintances—this is unbelievable. I remember that I refused to have a party before to celebrate my eighteenth birthday to avoid this too much attention, but now it’s happening.
Everyone laughs when my friends retells the silly things I did before, everyone is reminiscing the old memories we had. Am I supposed to be glad now or not? Everyone went completely silent when they saw my mom walking towards the platform. She is holding a face towel and a folded piece of paper in one hand—guided by my father. She exhaled so deep before finally grabbing the microphone. “I would like to give thanks to everyone who went here, today, you are all gladly appreciated” she stutters.
“I love my daughter. She has a bubbly personality; a day will never be complete without her telling at least one random silly joke. At a very young age, she is capable—an achiever at school, I would say. She tops the class at times and receives recognition. She is a very talented young girl. She used to be a part of a dance community at the university she attended; she writes so well that’s why she is most likely being recognized by her former language teacher and professors; she also loves art, I remember one time, she painted four canvases as a gift to her friends; she also sings a lot at home but not as good as her other talents” everyone started laughing after hearing what my mom said.
“Although having a bubbly personality, everyone knew that she was a silent type of person. She was normally shy specially talking to random people she is not closed with. That was her vulnerability.” I can see everyone is paying attention to what my mom is saying. And then she continued, “I didn’t do something for her vulnerability; I thought she was doing fine. As I’ve said before, she laughs a lot but she never did cried in front of me, us, well expect when I was scolding her, aside from that, she was happy.” I see her wiping her tears and then flash the folded piece of paper to the audience. “She loves to write. I know she do but I never read any of her works. And this piece I am holding speaks so much about her, speaks how vulnerable she was. I found it under her bed.” I took a glimpse at the people and saw them shedding their own tears. “Her laughs are so loud that it deaf me enough to not hear her cries. I didn’t saw her shed tears behind my back, I didn’t saw how forced her smile was, how gloomy her eyes. I didn’t saw how much she struggled to live her everyday life despite being surrounded by darkness she had called as ‘monsters’. I love her so much and I’m so mad at myself—” My father rushed to my mother when he saw that she is about to fall.
Her cries grew louder and louder. I can see my friends crying so bad, everyone is supporting each other’s back. I wanted to cry but I can’t. I can’t. After she slightly recovers to her crying, she walks towards to where I am. In front of me, I can see her tearing up standing beside my father. “I love you. I will miss you so bad” she said and then kissed the thin glass of my casket.