For a year her ghost walked around. Confused. Uncertain. Trying to look for something she couldn’t find.
She could hear voices, distant and muffled.
This month a group of people found her body and suddenly everything became crystal clear.
The storm, the waves, the final gasp for air.
She looked to the skies and vanished. A faint glimpse of her blue shirt but it didn’t matter anymore.
A year on, another body was found in Tacloban. Nothing was left except her bones and her clothing.
I can not help everybody. None of the survivors can help everybody.
But instead of turning away and pretending that it doesn’t make my heart twitch anymore, I look at the photos and grieve for her. I look at the photos and say a little prayer. It was a sudden and unexpected death. May she rest in peace. And may her family and friends find solace in the little things that make life worth living – even when remembering the storm brings them pain and grief.
I cannot help physically, emotionally or financially, but through these words, I want to say – I will always remember.