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The Bottle That Killed Him






He was an alcoholic.

I vividly remember the incident when he made everybody panicked. He claimed that somebody was trying to attack him. And that somebody was wearing black. He was yelling to “ayan na yung mamang nakaitim, papatalon na sa gate“. We were then convinced that he was just hallucinating! There was never a man in black jumping over the gate. We didn’t see anyone, at all…

Family members suggested that he should go to a rehabilitation center. Everyone agreed but not his mother….

Morning, noon and night…. His day was never complete without it. No matter how much we explained that it won’t do any good to him, he never listened.

Until…. he was diagnosed of Tuberculosis. I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for his family – especially the kids.

After years of suffering, his body finally gave up. It was over!

December 22, 2005. three days before Christmas when he finally said goodbye. I wasn’t able to see him alive. The last time I saw him was 2003. He came home and asked for money. I refused. It’s not that I didn’t want to give him any. I felt bad but I’d be at my worst if I did. I knew why he was asking for it….

He’d buy a bottle of gin.

The bottle that killed him. The bottle that killed my Uncle.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marketing Manager at Adventures Beyond Group | WAHM | Ex-OFW | Music Enthusiast | Cactus and Succulent Hobbyist | Hello Kitty Lover | A 42 y/o mom of two lovely girls sharing her adventures as she walks through motherhood and having to do most things on her own while her Indian national husband works miles away from home.



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