A storm "Pablo", stronger than last year's Sendong that killed more than a thousand people in the cities of Cagayan de Oro and Iligan, is expected to hit this town anytime soon.
While everyone is preparing for the grave impacts of the typhoon, death continues to take its toll just like an ordinary day of living and dying.
Last Sunday, my dear friend lost his father and on the same day, I saw my grandmother in her bed as if lifeless if not with intermittent breathing through her mouth. Her teary eyes can no longer see, and I doubt if she could still hear my whisper.
Some lives ended yesterday, while some are diminishing today or waiting to be taken by a storm tomorrow.
Although life's limit is relative, life is arguably short.
And, when being reminded with the reality of dying, one begins thinking about living and loving.
Tonight, my friend bared how much he loves his father while listening to eulogies, and I listened to the crescendo of rainfall overlapping the music from my headphones.
Then, we started exchanging stanzas of a great poem ever written in between two towns that are 220.6 kilometers apart.