Okay Lang (Just Okay

Cliff with his cousins Kheriza and Jetta

I feel old this week.
 Not because my age is old, or that my bones feel old, I just feel old like I am weary.  Like I have seen too much, learned too much, watched too much.
One of my closest friends here, Cliff, came up to me the other night and told me his mom had breast cancer.
"What?" I said,  "Cliff, oh no.  I am so sorry."
And then four days later, she died.
And so as soon as we found out we got a bus to Goa-oa (pronounced Gawa), where the family lives.  She had only been dead for a few hours and as soon as Cliff saw us he burst into tears.
He sat with us, silent sometimes, making jokes, talking about his mom, talking about what happened.
"It was like there was this beautiful picture she wanted," Cliff said, referring to his mother's life.  "She wanted it to be beautiful, but it's like someone just came and set it all on fire."
Cliff's Auntie and Uncle came in and just started weeping and weeping.  We walked into the room to see Chita (his mom) before she was taken to be embalmed.  She looked just asleep, only very still--so still.

So for the next week or so, we'll go to his house in the evenings and sit with him and laugh and cry and have a service for his mother, cause that was her wish.  And Cliff will be ok, I think, but I just wish I could do something to help--but what is there to do?  I'll just be his friend and we'll still draw funny pictures for each other and laugh about the time we boiled pandan leaves just to see what they smelled like and maybe go to the beach, and share books and whatever it is that all the other friends in the world do.  It will be Okay-lang