Humidity

"My Darling. She could not take it anymore. She fought for a good five years."

"I am 80 years old," he said. "She would have turned 72 this June."

I looked at his eyes. While the surrounding skin was wrinkled, roughened by the winds of time, his eyes, oh how they were alive.

He was smiling as he spoke. That of relief that the love of his life has finally found peace in the afterlife.

"Her heart gave up, " he said. His words were clear, crisp, straight to the point, smile lingering.

I wondered how many times he would have to speak those words until the very last of family and friends have come to pay their respects.

I wondered how many times he would have to answer to queries, "What happened? How long?"

I wondered how many times he would have to say, "She fought the good fight. Half a decade."

I wondered how many times he would say the words, "Her heart finally gave up."

I wondered how many more times his smile will accompany the words,
"My Darling, she is finally at peace."
"I am 80 years old. She would have turned 72 this June."

As I turned to leave, a couple of other visitors came in. He rose from his chair and proceeded to say, "Ang akong Darling..."

His words hung like the unmistakeable humidity in the air. I looked at the sky. Thick clouds hovered from a distance. I thought, "It's going to rain soon."