Stars are whimsical matters. On one hand, these bodies exist at times ahead of ours, seemingly shining when they could have all the while ceased existence. On the other hand, it is said that no other star could occupy exactly the same space as the one that has died. Whether it was a bucket of chicken or a box of crispy pata, I no longer remember. It was probably neither of the two when Mommy would explain the lack of a celebration as I grew older and wiser years after. What I do recall from my first birthday dinner was how it was not 'vanity fair' that 18th night of April.

https://opinion.inquirer.net/162292/the-gift-of-grief

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