day 12: more news, no news

yday, i fell asleep with a minor migraine, and the laptop on.

as usual. came home, bought mother a few items from mercury drug as requested by sugar our mom’s daytime caregiver (i forgot to buy ibuprofen for myself though, we’ve run out pala), ate dinner, washed the grime off, turned on the laptop, fed mother, fell asleep. again.


that’s a photo taken by sugar over the weekend. that cat, austen, has a thing for mother. and no, austen’s not usually allowed on the sickbed. she just insists on testing us.


yday, day 12, at my sister’s instigation, my brother called up Anawim Lay Missions Foundation Inc. no dad.

my understanding is that we’re looking at homes for the aged next, since we’ve been concentrating on the halls and the police and the media more.


speaking of the media, someone suggested we approach tv patrol. media has to battle this everyday — the misconception that any media format can accommodate any type of story. if a “missing person” story gets to be prime time news, something more than “elderly male goes missing, family is worried sick” would have to have happened.

i shudder to think what that could be.

i’ve already been importuning my media friends to somehow fit the news of dad going missing into their beat or their medium, and they’ve been very gracious and accommodating. some of them have even done it without my prompting. case in point, before i fell asleep yday, i saw this:



not seen in the comments is assurance that Radyo 5 will feature the story again.

i also got reassurance of the print story i previously mentioned coming out today.



it’s 5: 29 a.m. and my brother is awake. on his way to work.

my sister just muttered, “naka-tsinelas lang si dad, jo” in her sleep. those are her first words of the day. she’s worried over every little detail, particularly the description we gave media and police of what he was wearing that day. i gave my last eyeball dated 5:30 a.m. that fateful day. he left at 11:30 a.m. in between, we have conflicting reports about the color of his shirt. don’t ask me why, i suspect our caregiver-reliever is color blind.

his face hasn’t changed. concentrate on that.

12 days have passed. today is actually day 13. he could be anywhere. wearing anything or nothing.

do you know how hard it is to ask people for help? (i got that from my dad.)

my head still aches.

i need to get a move on.

there’s a lot of work to do.


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