She is now back in the arms of the angel

96 years, 1 month, 15 days. She was here. She existed. She lived.

On one fine day back in August 28, 1919, Emma Augusta was born into this world. I believe the angels cried and bawled their eyes out for they had to send one of their very own down to a place called Earth.

72 years, 21 days later, I was born. It was a wednesday. How did I end up with a good voice? Tale said that night she was coaching a female choir at our church. Go figure! 🙂

When I was a toddler, she was the first person to introduce me to the exciting English language. She was also the first person to read me bedtime stories. Now no wonder I ended up with a head full of imagination.

As I grew older, I did not spend as much time with her as it was before. However, her wisdom, her ideas, her legacy stayed with me up until this very second. You can see her in every little thing I do.

I was pulled down into the rabbit hole when family told me she was hospitalized. For me, She had always be an immortal figure who would always be there. She would never fade away. Truth be told, life was slowly taking her one step at a time away from me. To witness her holding on tightly down to the very last essence of life, was a humbling experience. I remember vividly, in her deathbed, how she sang beautifully songs of praise and submission to the Almighty God. She even carefully planned how her 97th birthday should be celebrated: one white fruity cake and one chocolate cake, slice them into pieces and serve each on a paper plate; Do not cook difficult foods, just easy ones.

Aah, how I miss her . .

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On July 13 2016, she was given back her wings and she soared to heaven to be reconciled with the angels. I am pretty sure they threw one heck of a party to welcome her back. As Sarah McLahlan beautifully sung it..

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear

You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here

Rest in peace my beloved angel: Emma Augusta Soselisa – Matakupan, 08.28.1919 – 07.13.2016.

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Life of a good-bad little man

There is something weird in life where two lives collide and create a spark so majestic, it turns the whole world upside down. Shake it right down the core as they say it. I am a good-bad little man, I live, I exist, I believe. This is a story of my goodness, this is a story of my badness, this is a story of my good-bad life, I am a good-bad little man.

I watch this old world gets older, but I am not so sure it gets wiser. Is it the people or the Earth? It is baffling, I am trying to decide which is which. I think people are good actors. People many a times smile, but cry behind closed doors. Other times, they smile, but curse and cuss behind the joker mask. Poker face as the ever-popular female singer called Lady Gaga define it. See, Lady Gaga. It is an oxymoron. A lady is someone with exceptional beauty and grace while a gaga is someone cuckoo and probably has flushed his mind down the toilet. Hi hi hi.

Another example is myself. I am a good-bad little man. Good contradicts bad. Bad does not sit well with good. Maybe that means I am bad but I try to be good? Or the other way around. Nevertheless, I am a good-bad little man.

If you think about it, why do people fall in love? why does a person feel an attraction to another? all jumble up into one big mystery called life. I am a good-bad man, I intend to reveal and dismantle the tale that is as old as time, the mystery of life.