RIP Gino Miranda.

Today was emotionally and physically exhausting for me.
I hadn't managed to get enough sleep the night before, and I had classes in the morning.
I had to walk to and fro from several blocks in uni, as if cycling under the hot sun was not enough.

I got a surprise call from Lika this afternoon.
She was crying, and she told me that our ballet teacher was admitted in the hospital, and that the doctors are beginning to give up hope on him...

What's happening?

She took the next bus to KL to visit him. But she was too late.
Our ballet teacher had passed away at around 3pm.

The last I saw of him was before I left for university. And he would still occasionally text me to keep in touch.
He said he had a urinary infection the last time he saw a doctor for being sick. Turns out it wasn't a urinary infection after all.

According to Lika, he was alright this morning, being able to chat and all. But the same can't be said later on.

I was sort of numb when I was told of the news. It's surreal.
How could someone vanish from the face of this earth so easily and quickly? He was fine this morning.

It's still hard to believe.

The truth didn't sink in until I was in the porch, about to go to see Ann and the rest. My voice broke a little on the phone, but I managed to compose myself.
Then when I arrived at Oxford, Ann welcomed me with a hug and that broke down my barrier. I sobbed into her shoulder.
It was probably the first time she ever saw me cry in the 13 years we've been friends. I knew that man since I was 6.
We literally grew up with him.

He's been teaching me dance for almost 16 years. Bittersweet memories flourished the pages of my life.

And now he's gone.
Just like that.

I wished there was some kinds of warning beforehand.
This is all too sudden.

RIP Gino Miranda.
You will be very much missed.