About Time To Fall In Love Again

Anna's Diary

ANA'S DIARY

November 16, 2004

Today is probably my last day here on the planet we call Earth. Most probably, I am writing my last diary entry.

Everyone is saying that I need to fight my illness. I need to stay strong; they keep talking as if they know how unbearable the pain in my body is slowly killing my hope. Earlier, an old friend came to visit me. She asked if I am satisfied with my life. I did not answer her, not even when she left. But I pondered on her question, asking myself the same thing. Perhaps I am. It is probably because I've seen the worst and best things in my life. I have great and bad memories with great and not so great people. I've traveled half across the world, meeting new friends and learning their cultures and seeing the value of my life. I know I am more blessed than I could ever think.

Enduring the pain all over my body, here I am writing this to let someone know how I live the remaining hours of my life. I can no longer count how many sleepless nights I spent crying in agony. I even heard my nieces' sobbed as they tended me with care on one of those nights. They will always be my lovely children. My sister raised them well. They do love me. As for my sister, she gave me a white rose today. It is my favorite and I am happy that she remembers it. I feel loved.

It makes me wonder if this illness must be the punishment for what I did in the past. If so I am happy that I could repay the debt I owe to those people I hurt.

Soon my suffering will end and I will find rest in death. Still I am hoping that I will see your face before my final breath takes me away from this world. How long has it been? Fifty four years isn't it? I've waited that long. I've waited for you to come back to me, my dearest love. So please come back to me now. I want to hear your voice. I want you to tell me that it's okay, that everything will be alright. That is the only thing I wish before I go.

This is probably my deathbed. This is probably the last place I could recall my memories. No one will ever live the same like me. No one will ever experience the exact same things I've experienced. No one will ever tell how much I suffer or how much I rejoice. No one could ever steal my memories.

- Anna

******

"Anna?" I whispered. This old diary was making me curious. Never did I intend to read it but I couldn't help myself.

Leaving me in such a curious state, I stood for about a minute while recollecting my thoughts. The wooden couch beside the remaining empty shelf was inviting me to sit and to relax. The smell of the room, the classic design, the old chandelier above me and the diary that I read made a perfect time to reminisce. Some of the pages of the diary had been torn and stained with inks. I wondered how it ended up in my grandfather's possession. That made me even more eager to find out.

A knock on the door came and I was startled. It was Dad. He was holding a wooden box, probably containing some memorabilia of my grandparents. "Dad," I said and I showed him the diary that belonged to someone named Anna. His brows crossed, like every time I showed him my failing grades in my report cards during college, then after a while he seemed to recognize it.

"That belongs to your grandfather." He said. "Hurry up. We need to finish packing things before sunset." He was about to leave but I ran to the door and blocked his way.

Dad just looked at me as his shoulder shrugged, "Daddy, I want to know who this Anna is." I begged.

"Sweetie," Dad sighed, "Okay, I'll tell you later after we're done packing. No buts Kessy." He left me there with my mouth dropped. Dad always treated me like a teenager when I'm almost five years younger than her thirty year old secretary.