It's the Halloween weekend. Here in North America, we are busy getting ready for Halloween, making last minute decision on what our costumes are going to be, taking advantage of the treats that are now on sale, decorating our houses with spooky items, some of us will be hosting a party, and there are those who are excited to play tricks on unsuspecting victims.

This weekend, in Christian traditions and belief, is All Soul's Day where we commemorate or remember our departed family members. In Philippines, All Soul's Day is observed than Halloween, specially in rural provinces where old Catholic traditions are much prominent. I remember going to my father's tombstone during All Soul's Day. We would stay up late in the graveyard, with family and friends to pray for my father. After that, we would feast and tell stories about ghosts, mysterious creepy supernatural sightings or experiences, and our memories of how life was when my Daddy was still alive.

I could not help but to miss my Daddy on All Soul's Day most especially that I am reminded that he died at the age of 48 in a car accident. It felt to me that he left me so soon and without even saying goodbye. I look at my three sons and I wish my Dad could see them, how my eldest son Janvier has his thick hair, how my second son Justin resembles his chinky eyes, and how my third son Jesse is so much like him who spends a lot of time looking in the mirror. I wish I could give him a hug.

When I was about 11 years old, I had a friend who had a weak heart. One afternoon, she came home from the hospital. My Dad told me, "Neng, your friend just arrived from the hospital. Go to her house and give her a visit. Play with her." I was excited to see her and so I ran to my friend's house which was just at the back of our house. I remember we played Jack Stones and I had to leave because it was dinner time. The next morning, at about 5 o'clock, I remember I was still so sleepy and my Daddy was waking me up. He said, "Wake up, Neng. Your friend died." I remember crying and running to her house to see her because I could not believe that she was dead. I was just playing with her the night before. There were lots of people at her house talking to each other that I sneaked in to the kitchen door and went to the living room but what it seemed was that I entered a morgue. There she was lying down. I could only see her feet behind the white curtain, and I saw two men, one standing by her head, one by her feet. I could not see what they were doing to her. I was so quiet they did not notice me watching. And then I saw her feet moved as I heard a loud thrusting sound. I got scared and left crying.

I was so scared that night. I told my Daddy how scared I was and I told him that if ever my friend would visit me, she should visit me in my dreams. But my friend never did. She was 14.

It was year 1989, when I had a dream about my grandparents, my Daddy's parents. First I saw my grandfather Felix, sitting on a chair in the front garden, I passed by him and I said, "Hello Lolo." He smiled. And then in my dream, I saw myself walking and then saw my grandmother Isabella, I stopped, and said, "Hi Lola!" Like my grandfather, my grandmother smiled at me too. And then still in my dream, I saw myself walking again, cheerily I was skipping too when all of a sudden, I realized, "Wait a minute, why am I saying hi and hello to them, weren't they dead already?" In my dream, I got so scared that I wanted to wake up so badly. I heard myself crying, and then felt my Daddy waking me up. Still so frightened and in tears, I told him about my dream. He hugged me and said, "Don't cry now. Your grandparents knew that we could not visit them this All Soul's Day so they instead came to visit us."

It will be 15 years now since my Daddy died. This All Soul's Day, I would not be able to go to his tombstone. I hope he knows that he is always remembered and loved, and that I do not mind for him, and my grandparents, to pay me a visit in my dreams.

I remember I was once a school transferee, I was in grade two, and I remember that I was approached by a girl. She was kind and pretty, and I remember she told me stories about her famous brother, and I remember she would invite me to her big house, and there by the beach, we would play. But then her family had to leave the town and they moved to another city far away, and that was the end of my memories of her. By that time, I remember having other friends at elementary school although I do not recall how I became friends with them. I stayed in that school until high school and those friends are now my lifelong friends.

But then after ten years, I was again the "new kid" in school, and at the time a new immigrant here in Canada, I was also the "new kid in town". This time, I was in grade eleven. And again, I was approached by a girl, who then became my best friend.

And then I turned 31. I was starting at a new job position. And if I would try to make a meaning out of it, I would say that I was also a transferee since I was coming from a different department but starting my new position within the same company. And the very first person from that team who sent me a welcome email, (you guessed it) became my best friend.

When I was in grade four, I was representing my school in a Science Quiz Bee, and there was this student, who remarked that she thought I was snotty because I did not seem to be approachable, and was quiet. But then all that changed when I started talking to her after she joined in a conversation that I was having with another student. This remark was something that stuck in my mind ever since. I realized that people can misinterpret me just because I stay quiet, or just because I have the "snotty look". I guess the "snotty look" is justified because I am not the kind who approach people. And because I learned that about me, I knew then how to make others approach me. I turned the "snotty look" to a smiley face.

Now fast forward to the present day. For a year now, I am again, "the new kid in town" literally, new here in the town of Yellowknife. But what happened differently this time, was that, unconsciously, I approached people so I can be friends with them. When I became a member of NorthWords, back in October of 2010, my intention was to learn about publishing and to just simply attend that workshop. But then as part of my promise to myself that I would do anything so I feel at home in this town, I volunteered to become a member of the board. We were having a breakfast meeting when our President said that, he and his wife did the same thing when they moved here to Yellowknife... they joined clubs and put themselves out there and from there they knew people and became friends with them. And I am lucky, indeed I found a gem of a friend; and a group of inspiring people.

Being the "new kid" here in Yellowknife makes me miss my friends in Toronto. And also this experience made me realize that no matter what age you may be, you still long for friends and you still feel the anxiety and worry of fitting in. Or maybe it is just me. I also have observed that as people grow older, and having a hectic lifestyle and schedule, making time for friends feels like another chore and seeing them is just another tiring thing to do that it comes to a point that you whine about seeing them, or worse wishing that you do not have to see them. How could you say then that you are a friend if you feel this way? Shouldn't you be feeling excited and happy that you have the opportunity to see your friend, to catch up on old times, to say how do you do, to give a hug, to see him/her smile? Unless of course you really are not a friend you say you are, or although you call them friends, the truth is you really do not consider them as your friends. You are just saying it. I understand we are all busy and it is with this very reason that seeing a friend should be something to look forward to because we do not see them everyday. At my previous work, it was not the work I did that made me feel inspired to go to the office, it was the fact that I enjoy being in the company of the people I worked with. And to make my point, seeing my best friend at work everyday, was not enough because really, we were focused at our jobs so we would, when we could, go out for lunch, or have a dinner date, sometimes just the two of us, or with our mutual friends. And when our schedules would tolerate it, we would also meet on a Saturday for a play date. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda, their fictitious friendship is what I say the truest of friendship, which of course is a story based on real life friendship stories like mine, or yours, and of others out there.


So if you have a friend and you feel that this person is a true friend to you, make sure that you let this person know how you feel. It is good to express how you feel in words and there are many ways you can do this. There's email (my favorite), phone, text messaging, snail mail and Facebook. Hug is a good way to express love and gratitude, and is also my favorite. I am thankful for Facebook and email really, because no matter how far away I am from my friends, I could just put a shout out, or fire an email just to simply say "I love you," "I miss you" or "I hope you have a nice day." And truly, because I mean what I say when I say it, doing this makes me happy. Thoughts of them make me happy. And frankly, when I am emailing them, I feel rested and energized. And oh, it is okay to have more than one best friend. I mean, why not?

There are two kinds of hitting that men give and both should be avoided by married women. The first type of hitting is physically and emotionally painful... puts a woman's confidence down. The second type, though not physically and emotionally painful, and gives confidence, this type of hitting is as equally dangerous as the first one, and sometimes, even more dangerous. The big difference though is that the latter, can be prevented simply by ignoring it, that when a man gives you this hitting, you simply smile, act as if you did not see, nor understood, what just occurred.

** litlmscaffeine **