Echoes of the Past

It's been five years since Erela died, but the pain is still in my heart. It fucking hurts. I feel alone and lost, like a child searching for his mother.

I can't believe it happened. I can't help but blame myself. Why did this happen? God, why did you take her so easily? She wasn't the only one taken; our unborn child was taken too.

A tear escapes my eye. I hold back the rest. I look at the DSLR camera in my hand, filled with shots of our memories. This is all I have left of Erela apart from the imprint she left on my heart and mind.

I focus on one particular photo. I remember this moment vividly—our wedding day. I was 24 when I married her, and she was only 21. Too young, some said, but we had been together for four years. She was a high school senior when I was a college junior. 

I remember how she accidentally bumped into me. It sounds cliché, but that's how our story began. She apologized, we introduced ourselves, and then we became close. After two months of courting, on her birthday, she surprised me by saying 'yes.' It was one of the best days of my life. She confessed she had feelings for me all along.

I sigh, trying to release the heavy air in my chest. If only I hadn't been so careless, if only I had explained things right away, none of this would have happened. On the day of the accident, if only she had been calm and understanding, she would still be here. We would have had a family by now.

*knock knock knock*

"Hey, honey, are you there?" A knock on the door pulls me back to the present. I turn off the camera and hide it in the drawer. Composing myself, I pretend to read the report in front of me.

"Yes, Mom, I'm here," I answer back.

"Okay, can I come in?"

"Yes, Mom, the door isn't locked." I hear the door open and close, but I keep my eyes on the papers.

"Mom, what do you want?"

"Oh, yeah. Your father said that you should go home." I stiffen in my seat. Go home to the Philippines? I can't.

I close my eyes tightly. "Mom, you know—"

"Of course, I know, honey. It's been years. Why can't you just let go and move forward?"

"It's easy to say, Mom. It's easy to say, but how can I move forward if every time I close my eyes, I see her? That's why I don't want to go back to the Philippines. It's harder there, Mom. We have too many memories there. Maybe my heart and mind can't handle it; maybe I'll go completely crazy."

I can't stop the tears. "Mom, no matter how long she's been gone, her memories are still locked inside me. How can I forget when it's all my fault?"

"No, no, no. It's not your fault. It was an accident." She comes to me and wipes the tears from my cheeks.

"But I was driving that car. She was beside me and... shit." My tears won't stop.

"Please. Stop crying. Just let it out."

"But I don't know, Mom." I hug her like a child.

"We are always here for you, honey. Whatever happened in the past is in the past. You may never forget, but you can continue living. Don't dwell on it too much." I'm so lucky to have a mother like her—caring, loving, sweet. She's my idol, and my dad is my superhero.

I'm grateful they're here to support me. When I'm down, Mom lifts me up again. Without them, I might have been gone long ago.

I stay in my mom's arms while she comforts me until I feel better.

I pull away from her hug, remembering why she came here. "Mom, why do I need to go home?"

She smiles sadly. "Because your dad can't manage the beach resort on his own. He also has to handle the other company, and you know we're getting old."

"But last time I checked, the beach resort was doing well." I'm puzzled. Even though we're not there, our employees should be able to handle it.

"Yes, it's doing well. But now there are more tourists, and you know your dad only hires the best. He needs you to manage the resort for a while and handle the hiring process."

I have no choice. It's Dad's decision, and Mom is asking. I don't want to disappoint them or let them suffer.

"Okay, Mom. When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow." What? That fast?

"Tomorrow? Mom, why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've prepared things at the company—"

"No need to worry. I've taken care of everything. Your luggage is ready. And don't worry about our company here. It's doing well."

"Okay, but without you, who's going to handle things? Eva is always MIA. She disappears whenever there's work. Why do you let her get away with that?"

"I heard that, brother. You know I love adventure. I love traveling." Oh, that's Eva, walking in. "You're such a killjoy, always locked in your office. You need to relax. You weren't like this before. It all changed when—"

"Evanna, stop it! You're going too far."

"I'm sorry." Eva pouts. She may seem bratty, but she knows when to listen and respect.

I sigh. "It's okay. Maybe you're right, Mom. I don't need to forget and stay in the past. I need to look forward and continue living."

I see their smiles. "I'm so proud of you, honey. I know you can do it."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"Love you too."

"Wait, wait, wait. What about me, brother? Mom gets all the love. That's unfair." Eva complains like a child.

I laugh. "Of course not. You're always giving me a headache."

"Hmph. I hate you, brother. I'll report you to Dad."

"Hahaha. Childish."

"Who's childish? Me? Of course not. It's you, Mom! It's you, brother!"

I laugh so hard. "Okay, okay. That's right. You know you're a brat."

"Mom, are you too? I'm going to report you to Dad. You're bullying me." Mom and I laugh as we hug, watching my bratty sister report us to Dad on the phone.

I sigh. At least they're still here to make me happy.