I think I jinxed Migs by what I wrote the last time. Last Sunday, I received news that Migs was already out of the ICU and is doing better, but, yesterday, Migs was again transferred back to the ICU for close monitoring after his pulse oximeter showed desaturations. I don’t know what happened but a few days back, he was showing improvement already so I don’t completely understand why he’s having carbon dioxide retention and is now on acute respiratory failure. It’s a really difficult time for everyone: for Migs, for his parents and for us. Sometimes, I wish these were all just a dramatic scene from a movie… that a director would soon call “cut” and my friends would be brought back to life. Sometimes, I wish I could be just someone else… someone who never knew this kind of life existed.

I believe God has plans for me… for everyone affected by this tragedy. But inasmuch as I would have wanted to know the reason behind what’s happening to us right now, I know that only a mind full of wisdom could perhaps comprehend this situation. As of this moment, my mind is just blank and my heart is very numb. I wish this to be over.

I was browsing through my albums and saw this picture. This was taken on my 24th birthday last year. Little did I know, this was to be the last birthday I was to celebrate with them. You see, since we started med school, it’s been our tradition to celebrate each others’ birthdays. This year was an exception because they were rotating in Cabiao, Nueva Ecija on my birth month. But I never thought it would be more than exceptional.

They called me up on the night of February 2, 2010. They were shouting at the other end of the line - obviously ecstatic by the newfound freedom that community medicine has to offer. It was a lonely night for me but we did promise each other that when we all get a weekend off, we’d celebrate my birthday like we did the previous years. How could have I known that it will never happen?

Yesterday afternoon, I went to see Jessa for the last time before we leave her ashes in her final resting place. Their family’s mausoleum is nothing extraordinary. No outdoor furniture or decors save for the image of Jesus Christ atop Jessa’s urn box. I broke down into uncontrollable fit of tears when I saw her tomb marker with the name “JESSA R. PEREZ” on it. Oh yes. I am used to seeing her name all over the place: in the books she owned, in her nameplate, in her school and hospital ID… even printed on the attendance sheet we pass around in class back at the college of med. But not engraved in that black slab of shiny marble for everyone to see. The tombstone made her death and Jen’s even more real to me.

Jen, Jessa, now that we’ve both laid you to rest, it’s time for me to let you go and move on with my life to continue this journey that we started together four years ago on Jessa’s birthday. I will never forget you nor the memories I made with you. Rest in peace dearest Jen, Jessa. I will always love you.

He’s awake. If there’s anything that’s making me happy despite what happened in the past week, it’s the promise that Migs will be okay. I don’t know how I – we - survived the aftermath of last week’s fire incident in Cabiao. Ten days later, it’s still surreal. It’s as if I’m just living in an ugly nightmare still waiting and hoping for someone to wake me up. Sometimes I catch myself calling Mela, Jessa or Jen by mistake, completely oblivious to the fact that both have gone to heaven last week.

Oh God. I can’t believe I said that. Gone to heaven? Who? My friends? My eyes turn watery every time I remember they’re gone and how they’ve left me and Mela by ourselves now.

I have a lot of acquaintances, a lot of friends. But there are only a handful few whom I have placed in a special box in my heart. These are the people whom I know wouldn’t judge me for my flaws or condemn me for my mistakes. Jen and Jessa were part of that special circle. Now that they’re gone, I feel empty.

I wonder if anyone could fill that special box again. And how. :’(

Jen, Mela, Jessa, Mnel @ the SLCM Christmas Party 2008 where Jessa received a Golden Snowman for being the “Best Dressed” for the night. We’re a rare breed. Someday, one of us could have discovered a new arthritis pain treatment that would have saved many people from pain.