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Mang Kiko

I had a dream about my grandfather the other night. He passed away two years ago when he failed to recover from a major head surgery that was meant to treat an aneurysm which developed in his brain. He was bedridden for six months before he met his demise so you could say that his death freed him from the agony his quality of life then brought him. However, there were plenty of things that were left unsaid and undone that most of us, the people he left behind would definitely bear for the rest of our lives.

He looked great when I saw him the other night as we were on-board a northbound train. He was his healthy old self again; an image far from what me and my mom last saw at his death bed. This was the groovy old man who wore his brown sunglasses underneath the same mop-top haircut that I am sporting now. It was very surreal and it felt that he was really alive. I looked at him and he asked me what kind of music was I listening to right now. I was supposed to tell him something that would probably make him smile. Unfortunately, my conscious mind realized that the old man was dead and that woke me up.

I wanted to tell him that I was listening to his music. I wanted him to know that me and my dad found copies of two LP’s he made back in the day when he was the leader of a big band in Clark. I wanted to say that he was one hell of a trumpet player and I truly admire the quality of his work.

My grandfather lived a grand life before he passed away. Like any man, he had his share of faults. Unlike most of us, he had a taste of greatness which he used to give his family and the many other people he took under his wing an opportunity to live a decent life. I will always be proud of him because of that.

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