This Is Our Last Song

We planned to go to the bar at around 9pm so we can listen to our acoustic duo’s last performance. The bar usually closes at 10pm and one hour of live music should be good enough, I thought.

For some reasons we decided to come earlier and we are quite lucky. The management decided to close the bar at 9pm.

Adia, the singer thanked us after their performance and said ‘this is our last song for tonight.’

That’s their last song for the night. And probably until they leave the island for good since their contract ends soon.

The bar staff started clearing their stuff and we headed out to the deck so they can completely close the outlet as well as all the lights.

We sat in the darkness looking up at the black sky sprinkled with sparkling dust. The breeze was cool. The strong current raging in silence.

I felt sad. Our last guests will depart early morning the next day. The management didn’t want to close the resort amidst the global crisis. We will operate with even with just one or two rooms occupied. But since the goverment announced a lock down (non issuance of visa upon arrival), we were left with no choice.

I felt sad for some other reasons I cannot figure out. It was so sudden. I felt like a dark cloud is passing over my heart, hindering the sun to shine on me, pouring cold droplets giving me chills down to the spine.

It’s not like we are losing our jobs. Our department will still run and we will remain on the island even after most of the staff leaves for their holidays after the new 14 day island isolation.

Somehow I feel like our department are the musicians in the movie Titanic. We will be the last people to leave this island, that’s if we have to leave.

Earlier today, I was so uninspired. I couldn’t even write a simple motivational message for a newsletter. I’ve been staring at the screen and ceiling for hours without any outcome. But the dark melancholy of the night had me writing until almost midnight.

Everything comes to an end and I hope that this global crisis reaches to a halt. Like an end to a band performance, a point when we can say, ‘this is our last song for tonight,’ and we can pack up, leave, sleep and wait for the morning. And when the sun rises and the light reaches every corner of our senses, we can all wake up from this long exhausting dream.

10 responses to “This Is Our Last Song”

  1. Nakakalungkot na talaga ang mga nangyayari ngayon. Haayyss.. This too shall pass..

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Parang kagabi lang nag sink in sa akin…nadadaan kasi sa biruan ang lahat…at hangga’t may guest kasi iba yung vibes dito sa isla, ngayon malungkot na

      Liked by 1 person

  2. We’re all waiting for the morning……

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Patiently waiting….


  3. It’s okay not to feel motivated because who would be in this trying times. I even asked myself today, what should I be giving up something for lent when most of the things that we have are slowly vanishing right before our eyes. 😦

    Liked by 1 person

  4. It’s a tough time, definitely. Just the uncertainty of when it would all end oftentimes leave me waking up really early in the morning and failing to go back to sleep. I keep praying this would all be over. I’m scared for my family in the Philippines, as well. It is a lot to take in.

    Gotta keep the faith.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Let’s hope this gets over soon.

      Take care )


  5. […] my last post, I’ve mentioned how I felt sad about bidding goodbye to our last guest and that, a 14-day […]


  6. […] was the 27th of March 2020 when we bid our last guest goodbye and closed the resort, waiting for the lockdown to be […]


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