Mountain High.

Mountain Tops

Yesterday, some friends and I hiked up to Camp 1 of Mt. Batulao to fly kites in honour of our friends, David Sicam and Gerard Baja. They both perished during a bus accident early this month and it was very difficult to accept their death. They were set to join us again in painting more classrooms but I guess now they’ll just have to watch over us.

As soon as we reached Camp 1, there was so little wind to be had so we whistled loudly until our breaths ran out. There was not enough wind to fly the bigger kites so we started and fumbled with the small ones. There was much running around, trying to perfect where the string ought to be tied and at which direction we ought to toss the kites.

Just as we were about to give up and sit under the shade of the one and only tree that was there, Tatay Ben, David’s father, took the string and taught us how to make the kite fly…

Tatay Ben.

Five minutes. That’s all the wind could give us but seeing a father who had just lost his son fly this kite so high up reminded me of how deep our love really is. Pardon the lifting of the Beegee’s lyrics. It just seems so unimaginable to lose one’s children and still have room for love.

To see this in person and to have seen the look on his face, that’s pretty priceless.

 

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