Love is a funny thing as many poets would say. Scientists have tried a dozen times to examine it under a microscope or in controlled laboratories. Artists have used any medium possible to express the wonders of love the way they see it. Many see it as a means to escape the cruelties of the world – an excuse to have something to hope for when all things have failed. Many fought for it and died for it. Many more lived because of it. Biblical scholars would say that God is Love and because of that love, we were created. Romantics would say that love cannot be explained by mere words – it has to be felt.

Realists would say that love is no more than just a conscious desire for people to connect with each other and that we can live without it. But, other sects would argue that they are talking about a different kind of love – and yes, we have different kinds of love now. In the exhausting efforts of humans to explain this mystical emotion, they have classified it into varieties: Erotic (sexual), Philic (friendship), Storgic (familial), Agapic (universal), Ludic (flirty/uncommitted), Pragmatic (practical), and Philautia (self love). There has been so much about love that we have studied. Yet, we still can't fathom the whole scope of it.

Sitting here in the window side of Domestic Flight 822 of Cebu Pacific, bound to Laguindingan Airport, I began to ponder the vastness of love. The expanse of white fluffy clouds and blue skies beyond my window was so exhilarating that it reminded me of the kind of love Oliver had shown me. It was his love that made me look at the world with more color than it already has. It was his selfless love that showed me that love is more than just a word I read on romance novels or even on scholarly books. His love was real. It was the rare kind – true love.

It's been five years since his death. I can't say I have moved on and have gotten over his death, nor am I still mourning him. His death had derailed my life to the better side. Though, I still wished that he hadn't died.

I have made it my promise to him, Hannah and to myself to honor his death by making the best out from the life that he had blessed with his love. Two years since his death, I managed to get a working visa to work as a nurse in Dudley, somewhere in United Kingdom. There, I found peace with myself. If only I'd found it earlier, Oliver would've had a different experience on love. He could've been – we could've been – happier. But, from all those things that happened, I have learned one thing: Things don't happen because of God's will. Because if all of this is going on according to God's will, then what's the point of Him giving us our own free will? So, I say that things happen because of our free will. But – a big 'but' – God will always have our backs covered no matter which path we choose. We just need to have faith in Him.

The captain's voice echoed through the economy class cabin I was sitting, announcing our approach to the landing strip of the airport. I glanced down on Oliver's journal on my lap. I've been reading it since I took off from Birmingham Airport. I closed the journal and placed it back to my shoulder bag, where two sheets of index cards stuck out amidst the rubble of personal necessities in my bag. Tomorrow is my birthday and I've decided to celebrate it with the Young Women's Association of Iligan, a God-centered foundation my sister Margaret and I built to aid young women in our city in whatever endeavors they are in. I am to give a speech to them and I've taken down notes that I cramped into these two tiny sheets of paper.

The day after tomorrow will be Oliver's 5th Death Anniversary. Hannah and I will meet, as we have always done for the past five years. We've had a rough year following Oliver's death. Ryan's body was found rotting on a river bank not far away from their apartment two days after Oliver's burial. Two bloody bed sheets were also recovered not far away from his body. A court investigation was conducted on what happened to the two men and who was to blame. They came to a point of blaming Oliver. We had to use every resource we can to bring out witnesses. Fortunately, we found quite a lot.

Oliver's neighbors have testified seeing two vans parked outside Oliver's apartment. Then, they heard loud noises. After the commotion, two men came in to their doors and paid them a big amount of money just to keep their mouths shut. Other witnesses reported hearing Oliver shouting for help on the streets despite the heavy rain. But they played deaf in the fear of being dragged in to the trouble. They've also been paid 'hush money'. But, being fed up with the clan's injustices, they've gathered their courage and decided to speak up. They pointed their fingers to Mark and the rest of the Dela Calzada family.

From then on, the secrets of the clan began to unfold. As the new Philippine president started to wage war against drugs, the drug cartel run by the clan slowly disintegrated. My uncle was summoned by the president and was proven to be a protector of drug lords; hence, he was sentenced to jail. The Dela Calzada family had to scatter. Mark had to go abroad - needless to say that our marriage was cancelled. That was music to my ears.

Ryan and Oliver did not die in vain. Their death brought back peace and justice to our city. Though their run-in with the family was accidental, the people thank them nonetheless for igniting the first match stick that soon led to the destruction of the tyrant family. As for me, Oliver's death saved me from a lifetime of misery. The events happened on the day I was celebrating a mournful birthday. In a way, Oliver really was my knight in shining armor that night. He saved a spoiled princess from marrying an abomination of a man.

We landed safely to the airport where Mother and Margaret were waiting. After three years of being away from them, their hugs had never felt this good. I am home now and I am free.

***

I didn't expect the venue to be so spacious. Margaret really made sure that the celebration was going to be one hell of a party. We were in one of the function rooms of Robinsons Place Hotel. The whole room was adorned with all kinds of flowers available in the city. Rows of classy chandeliers were hanging on the ceiling, shining brightly like a thousand lit candles. A balcony rose majestically on the southern part of the room, where more elegantly furnished chairs and tables filled the space. It would've looked so Victorian-ish if it weren't for the humongous speakers by the stage and a DJ stand opposite it. Disco balls and other party lightings hanged on the ceiling, too. Club music filled the room as people I know gathered together: my girls, Scarlet and Hope, escorted by two hot men, were there; the girls from my foundation; my whole family including my father who, despite his busy schedule, took a time off just for me; and there was Hannah and her husband, who was surprisingly a tall, Thor-looking Irish guy. Now, I know where Ryan got his good looks.

It's hard to explain the feeling of seeing everyone you love, everyone you care about deeply, gathering in one room, celebrating the day of your birth. I just couldn't stop myself from smiling end to end. Then my time came to speak my piece. I took the podium like a graduate about to deliver a valedictory address, my index card clipped safely in my palms. Everyone fell silent. I scanned the entirety of the area looking at the faces of people that matter the most. And so, I started my speech by thanking the right people before proceeding to what I've written on my index card. It ended with a round of applause, probably out of respect because I know I gave a mediocre speech. But I don't care. I suck at public speaking anyway.

The rest of the night was filled with music and dancing. Food and drinks were all over. Everyone danced and laughed to their hearts content, including my sister who was dancing with the hot DJ. I felt the urge to object but I decided to stay at a corner with a glass of Maritini. I knew that this was a kind of night that should be filled with happiness and happiness alone. But I couldn't stop myself from feeling a bit of longing. It's not that I miss Oliver. It's the kind of feeling that I can't transcribe to words. Everything had been said and done. It's like the closing part of the movie when everyone seems so happy now. But this isn't a movie and life will always go on for me. And so I asked myself, "what now?"

"Maybe you can start by dancing with me?" A deep, husky voice –with a hint of British accent - snapped me out of my reverie.

I looked to my side and saw a tall, muscular guy, his right hand outstretched, waiting for my hand. He looked at me through his long, black, wavy hair that fell on his face, with eyes that gave hints of the Pacific horizon. His mischievous smile curved ever so slightly up his neat, stubble-filled chin. I believe he was trying to give off a bad-guy charm, but it doesn't work on me. Yet, there was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel secure, somehow.

"Feeling gutsy, aren't you?" I said, still not taking his hand.

"Well, I like taking my chances."

I sipped my Martini and stared at the dancing mob for quite a while. I wasn't sure where this would lead. I wasn't even sure if I was ready. But this is a night of celebration – so be it.

"This is getting quite awkward, love." He said, as his hand remained outstretched. "Though, the offer still stands."

Finally, I took his hand. "Filipinas are quite the dancers. Make sure you'll hold on."

He smirked as he squeezed my hand. "I'll hold on to you... no matter what."

***

They say that happy ending is true. If you're not happy, then it's not yet the end. I feel happy right now. But this sure isn't the end. The end is far and may never come for we are not certain what lies beyond this life. So, we need not to wait for the end for us to feel happiness. Happiness is all about embracing the 'now' and not to worry about 'later' – something that I failed to realize, then.

I kept on worrying what the future may hold. I got so blinded on looking at my dreams that I forgot to wake up and see that that very same dream was coming true in my waking life. I longed for more when I had everything after all. I looked around when what I was searching for was just in front of me, looking at me with loving eyes. I kept on asking whether he was the one for me when I should've been asking whether I was the one for him.

Fairy tales were great examples of how love can be so beautiful. But, those very same stories had subliminally set the standards that women should be the one acting as the damsel in distress waiting for her knight in shining armor. But, what if that knight had some demons of his own to face? Will you help your knight with his own battle? Or will you just sit in your tower waiting for that knight to show up, not caring how much effort he put to wipe his rusty and bloody armor clean to make a good show for you?

And then there's the matter of 'what happens next after the rescue'? Well, like I said earlier, happily-ever-after does exist if and only if you do not cling on to the worldly ideals of love. They say that you should not give your all when you love, because if it fails, there will be nothing left in you. That's what I did, and all that was left in me was regret. My mind was filled with thoughts like: "what if I had...", "if only I did...", "I should've done this and that." It's not easy living a life filled with regrets and haunting thoughts of what-ifs.

And all those times I had after Oliver's death, I've only begun to realize that it makes more sense to give your all to the one you truly love. You give it your best shot. Because if you withhold even just a tiny percentage of love, you are withholding that same amount of what should have been happiness to the two of you. You are entertaining the idea that someday your love will fail. And when it does, you are left to answer the never ending queue of 'what if' questions and none stop hoping for a second chance.

But then, love is not a finite phenomenon. It moves in its own way that we can't comprehend with our feeble minds. There's no telling if what you had was the last one in the line or simply a preparation of something more spectacular. End point is that, there is really no way of telling what love has in store for you. And when you're blessed with a second chance, you better make it right. It might not come again. Though there are no absolute to-dos and not-to-dos when it comes to love, there is one thing that is certain: carpe diem. Seize the day! Love like there's no tomorrow. Love like it's the last one you'll have. Love like it's the only thing that you can do. Love with all that you got – no matter what. 

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