I haven't said hello to you for the longest time. The last time might have been after you called our house to talk to my dad. A brief conversation that I barely remember but the echo of your voice remains. I guess, this time around all I can say is goodbye.
I'm sorry for not being able to attend your son's wedding. I didn't know it'll be my last chance to see you.
The most vivid memory of you was when your family visited us in Philippines. I said to myself that you looked like Santa Claus, with your white long beard and heavy frame. But looks can be deceiving because you are a biker. You proudly showed your tattoo and pictures of your priced possession, a Harley Davidson bike. I was very shy around you because my capacity to fluently carry on a conversation in English was limited. You were contented to hear us giggle and nod every now and then. I also remember when you told us that wrestling was fake. I couldn't believe it but I knew that deep inside you would know about it more than a kid.
That's all I remember...
Your deep laughing voice still resonates though.
I will always remember you whenever I see a Harley Davidson bike. Did you know that I once thought about asking a bunch of bikers at Mt. Rushmore if I could take a picture with them? They looked like you and I was fascinated with their motorcycles.
I know you left us doing what you loved and enjoying the last days of your life. I'll keep the little bits of memory I have of you and smile when I see HD passing by.