Many years ago our family had it's trail of transferring from one place to another. Yes, we have to transfer because we don't own the lot were we live. I witnessed at my young age the painful experienced that my family had faced and endured. As cast outs in the land which we don't own. Squatters in the eyes of the owner, we were forced to vacate and tear down our house and transferred somewhere else. I can still remember when we were told to leave, they were shouting to us... that was in the year 1960's. I'm still 3 or 4 years old. The last and the longest place were our family stayed and live is at SPPVS in sorsogon city. We transferred to that place in the year 1970's. I am already in high school that time. In this place many stories happened. This is the place were our eldest brother, my father and my mother died. The picture you see in this blog (the old and small house) Is the house built by my father after the typhoon that hits our place. The materials that my father used are the only few left from the former house that was destroyed by the typhoon. I left my family in 1981 after my two years in college. I look for a job in Manila in order to support our family. In the year 1984, our family faced it's painful experienced again when my eldest brother died. He was killed by an unknown killer,until now nothing happened to his case. We just leave it to God. My eldest brother was brutally killed , his head was cut off and the body was thrown in to the rice field 300 meters away from our house. I can't forget the scene and the picture of my father and mother crying while sitting near the window of our old small house.. I saw them.. when I arrived at home from manila. I felt the pain that my parents experienced on that time. I saw how my parents loved our eldest brother. In 1989..another challenge came to our family.... the death of our father. He suffered from stroke that caused to the deterioration of his body and health. He died a few days after our newly constructed and a little bit bigger house was done. He just wanted to stay in our house rather to be brought to the hospital,, because we don't have any resources. Before he died he look at us all...and we promised to him that we will take care of our mother. Just a few minutes ...he closed his eyes and died as if he is just sleeping...... In the year 1994, our eldest sister died of cancer... on that time we were silenced. We kept it secret to our mother so to avoid.. heart attack. On that time then, it seems that our mother could not recognised us at all anymore. Years after.... my brother who is older than me, died because of his kidney and eumonia. He died a few months after he visited us and our mother. After all...last 1996, our mother give way at her old age, she was 89 years old... she died after the the typhoon "Ruping" slashed and flattened our house. (the picture that you see on my blog). The death of my mother was a very painful experienced for me..... as the youngest son. and the so called "mamas boy".. I lost my mother!!!, it's painful you know. I don't have anymore mother to care , to love , to kiss and to hug. Now, at present , out of the six children in the family (3 brothers and 3 sisters) only three left, I myself and my two sisters; Manay Precy now a widow who is manila with her 2 children, and Manay Imelda , I call he "Nene" who still live in the place where i am telling you the story. Thank God! we were not yet told to vacate the place. Thus far, at this point is the story that I won't forget... that started from the "House".
