I totally, completely and most utterly love my big sister. Even though she’s 12 years older than me, I could get along with her easily. Even though I barely see her, I still know what’s up. Even though she spends a fourth of her time with her boyfriend, I still go out on ‘dates’ with her. (And if her boyfriend does anything to hurt her, I oath to anyone who is a witness to decapitate that boy slowly. With a saw.) Even though she is sometimes a real sick annoying hell-beast bitch, at the end of the day, she will still be my forevermore, loving, caring, adorkable, kind, patient, awesome, responsible, independent, creative, supportive big sister. My sister is like my second mom, too. Without my mom around, she takes charge. I remember being asked in class, if I were to save one and only one of my family members in a life or death situation, who will I save. I din’t have to think twice. One word escaped my mouth. “Ate.” (/ah-teh/; standard Filipino name for an older sister/older female relative and, basically, now used to call any older girl who’s name is unknown as a sign of respect.) She was always the answer. And, hey. I do love my mom, dad and brother so so much, but I was thinking my older sister is kind of a cannot live without case. (But I would surely sob for a month straight if that situation happen. I’ll miss my other fambam peeps.) And now, to end this post with a short-ish thing I once wrote for Ate.
For every tear is a crack in my fragile heart. For every smile is a gleam in my infinite soul. For every shout is a beat of my benign heart. For every laugh is a glow in my inexperienced soul. For every time I break down and stop my long journey to paradise, you always help me up and continue with me to our everlasting, joyous oblivion. For every time I thank you, you just smile and wave it away and say that if in the start we were together, in the end, we must be too.