"Someday, someone will read these words. Will they laugh at my silliness? Will they cry at my pain? Will they learn from my mistakes?"

- From Corazon's Diary

 It was similar to the old script handwriting you would often see in classic movies. The first entry was dated March 25, 1953. I did the math. It was sixty years ago.

From what I learned in the memorial chapel, my grandmother was eighty-years-old when she died. She was born in 1934.

And this first entry was made when she was about nineteen. I couldn't imagine my nineteen-year-old grandmother writing the very words in front of me.

March 25, 1953

I met a man today.

He is good-looking and nice. I attended the fiesta in Dumaguete with Mama and Papa.

He helped me find my way back when I found myself lost in the crowd. He asked me for a dance. I accepted against better judgment and surprisingly, it was the most magical moment of my life. He made me laugh, the first real one I had in years.

He asked me to meet him again tomorrow by the big tree outside the church. I don't know if I should go.

His name is Antonio.

I paused with a frown on my face.

My grandfather's name was Ramon Gozar. This was a different man.

I shrugged. Well, my grandmother was too young back then. This was probably just a fling or a passing infatuation.

As I read on, I realized that the story had more to say. It was actually getting more and more interesting.

March 26, 1953

I decided to meet Antonio. He was already sitting by the tree outside the church and he was with his friend, Ramon.

Like Antonio, Ramon is not bad to the eyes either. I didn't like him at first sight though. He seemed stiff and unwelcoming.

His gaze told me I was not good enough for his friend.

With my grandfather's name now in the picture, I was ready for more. I did not realize I was now on the floor, leaning my back against the bed. This was more entertaining than I first thought.

I was disappointed that the story did not continue with my grandmother, Antonio and my grandfather. It stopped for over two months and when my grandmother made another entry, it was in the month of June. She never mentioned Antonio or my grandfather.

June 19, 1953

We are back in Bacolod. Father is not happy with what I had been doing while we were on vacation.

He forced me to go back home and stay at home with my mother.

I received some visitors today. They were my friends from school and they asked me about my plans for college. I told them I want to become a doctor, but that is not really what I want. I only told them what they expected to hear.

There was another two-month gap before the next entry and this time, I started to suspect that there was something wrong.

August 15, 1953

I'm not allowed to go outside for a while.

Someone saw Antonio and I outside school today and told my father. He didn't like it.

Antonio traveled far just to see me. He was with Ramon. They will be staying in Bacolod for a long time for their studies as well.

My father is disappointed and angry, but I cannot be happier.

I can be with Antonio!

My mind was full of questions now. What happened with my grandmother and Antonio? How did she end up with my grandfather, Ramon?

September 1, 1953

Father is still not talking to me. Is it right that I don't care? He was disappointed that I transferred to Education. He already told his friends I will be a doctor.

I spent a long time with Antonio today so I had the time to finally forget my problems at home for a while.

That entry was followed by another and I sensed that my grandmother was in love when she wrote it.

September 28, 1953

Antonio and I went to the park today. I was afraid people would see us.

He took Ramon with him. We are just three friends hanging out together, he said. No one will ever suspect.

He gave me my first flowers.

There were countless more entries with her and Antonio and I consumed each with giddiness and I found the one where the photo was taken. It was then that I figured the one with his arm around her was Antonio. The other man standing apart from them was my grandfather.

October 25, 1953

The tree was humongous, but we managed to climb it. It stood overlooking the slopes of the mountain below us. Up ahead was another hill as high as the one we were on. In the morning, it hid behind the fog and I almost wanted to reach out and feel them. It was a piece of heaven on earth.

We took a photo under the tree this afternoon after I managed to successfully climb down.

I cannot wait to hold a copy in my hand.

The longing I have been carrying in my heart for years is slowly being replaced by a tender emotion. I truly pray it lasts forever.

Longing? Longing for what?

I barely had enough time to answer my own questions as I continued to read.

October 28, 1953

Ramon fell into the river today.

You ought to have seen his face. He was so angry that we laughed.

He was not hurt, of course.

Antonio taught me how to ride the bike and I have to hide the scratches from Papa.

There were so many Antonio and I. Pages and pages of them.

November 11, 1953

I got home very late. Papa was so angry he slapped me.

I had to keep silent and lie about the reason for my tardiness.

See, Antonio and I got lost in the middle of the sugarcane plantation.

It was the next entry after months of happiness together with Antonio that things started to get tense once again. A year had passed since the first entry by then.

April 25, 1954

I had been happy despite Papa's attitude toward me.

I went to the church today and prayed for things to go well with Antonio and my family.

He plans to visit tomorrow.

The next entry made me feel for my grandmother.

April 27, 1954

Father didn't like Antonio.

My mother accommodated him, but she too was tense.

Antonio said he would do everything to make my father agree to him.

My friend who is studying to become a priest came by for a visit. I cried in his arms and he told me that everything has a purpose. Nothing is always easy, but with faith, things will fall into their rightful place.

I hope he is right.

It would be another month before another entry was made and I was ready to read what happened.

May 30, 1954

I haven't seen Antonio for a week. He had been coming to our house every day since his first visit and my father had started to talk to him.

Could it be that he had an emergency and he had to go home?

I asked Ramon at school but he too had no idea where Antonio is.

My grandmother's heart was broken in the next entry.

June 2, 1954

Antonio visited me today.

He was crying when he said our love can never be. His parents want him to come home and marry another. I begged him to think about it but he said they would lose everything if he doesn't marry. It was a marriage for convenience, he said.

Was I not enough, then?

Could he not fight for me like how I try to fight for him?

By the next entry, I finally understood how my grandparents became close.

September 19, 1954

My father never questioned why Antonio had stopped coming by, but I saw the knowing look in his eyes. He wanted to say, 'I knew it,' but never did, probably because he could see the suffering in my eyes.

Ramon is my comfort. He never failed to be beside me whenever he can.

I suspect he knew things would turn out this way, but he never said a word.

He never failed to offer his shoulder for me to cry on.

I took a moment of silence. This was bullshit. Why did she let Antonio do that to her?

I had to calm myself before I continued reading.

October 5, 1954

Antonio showed up at school today.

I wanted to run away but Ramon was there to stop me. He said that Antonio wants to talk.

I don't want to write everything we talked about but know that I finally understood his decisions.

Our love is not meant to be. Too much was at stake—his parents' livelihood, his siblings' future, and the people who depended on their family's farm... There was no way out of the marriage.

Antonio said that we should write each other a letter and we will read them together sixty years from now.

Surely we will both be healed by then.

Although hurting, I agreed.

I poured out everything in that letter. I wrote the dreams I had with him, hoping we could both laugh at them sixty years in the future.

But I also wrote what I knew would never change in sixty years.

I told him that I will forever dearly hold in my heart the love we have but can never be.

I felt a tear flow from my eye and I immediately wiped it away. Something was squeezing my heart. It was getting harder to breathe.

November 10, 1954

Antonio wrote to me.

He secured our letters in a small steel chest and buried it underneath our tree in Don Salvador.

He said he would be there with a shovel on the 10th of November 2014.

It still hurt that he chose another woman over me.

But I can't do anything as I am helpless as he.

My father doesn't have the amount of money his family needed.

My mother was there to comfort me. She assured me that things will be better.

I'm still young. I still have a lot of time to grow up and heal.

Like our tree, I shall grow with the memories of him buried somewhere in my heart.

I did not dare continue. I knew what happened next. I'd heard it several times from my mother. She had told me how my grandfather helped my grandmother move on from another relationship, but she never told me about Antonio. I figured no one really knew of their story apart from my grandparents.

At that moment, I realized I had been reading for a long time that I missed lunch. I closed the diary, ready to write the eulogy.

🌳🌳🌳

A series of knocks rapped the double doors of the room. I looked up from my laptop. "Who is it?"

Just as I said it, the doors opened and came in Erik. No asking for permission, just simply entering like he owned the place. The longer I was exposed to the man, the more I was thinking that something was up with him. He was not just an ordinary driver.

"Don't you know how to ask for permission to enter?"

He stopped in his tracks at my words. Raising his brows, he gestured with his thumb asking, "You want me to try again?"

I breathed deeply to control myself. It wouldn't do me good if I would start another fight with him. "What do you want?"

"I just came here to say I'm sorry. I can't imagine how you must feel."

I did not look at him, my attention back on the speech I was writing.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?" This time I threw him a glance.

"Do you forgive me or not?"

"Do I need to answer that? Isn't it enough you said you're sorry?"

He seemed confused. "What are you writing?"

That was it. I had to say it. "Why do you have to ask what I'm doing? Is this part of your job?"

He shook his head. "No, but I'm curious."

"Keep it to yourself."

"You're preparing for the eulogy, aren't you?"

"Why do you always have to bother me? Don't you have other people to drive around?"

"Only you," he answered without blinking an eye.

My brows furrowed. "If I ask you to drive me somewhere—anywhere—you will?"

"As long as it doesn't include planes and boats, I will."

I nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll take that as a promise."

He looked at me with suspicion. "What are you planning to do?"

"Nothing. It's just a thought."

His eyes went to slits as his gazed focused on me. "You are up to something."

"It's none of your business...yet."

"Well, if you are planning to include me in your plan, you better tell me now. Remember, you don't have much time left before you go back to Manila." Hearing Erik talk in Tagalog was fun for me. He had that Hiligaynon accent that sounded like he was about to start singing. But when I thought of his words, I agreed that he was right. I didn't have much time. And that was also the reason why I had to think about my idea.

I just a day and a half left to be exact to really determine my plans fast. But first things first. I had to get this eulogy out of the way before anything else.

I didn't realize Erik was still standing in the room as I typed away and racked my brain.

When I heard him clear his throat, I looked up. "You're still here."

"Well, you didn't tell me what you need me for."

"I might tell you tomorrow. I don't know. For now, I have to be alone. I'm busy."

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Okay, but remember, I am a busy man."

I snorted. Yeah, busy driving his client which is me since the original one is about to be buried six feet under the ground tomorrow, God bless her soul.

"You're not the only busy person here, you know."

"When I'm gone, you might be out of job."

He chuckled. "Okay, do whatever you have to do for now." He slowly backed out of the room and was gone with the door firmly shut behind him.