For those uneventful, untold parts of our lives.
For those we want to live vicariously through others because the opportunities have long been missed.
For those we are afraid to live.

So keep on telling them.
Keep putting them out there.
In the hopes that someone else might get to live that story for you.

A learning moment from my childhood happened during a younger cousin's 3rd birthday party. I put in a lot of work. Maybe even from a child's perspective - all the work. All my eggs in one basket. I wanted so badly to win a prize from the raffle contests my aunt was preparing for the party. Just one prize - that was all it would take to make me happy.  So I spent the entire day prior sorting, putting bags of candies together, and tying ribbons. I've done my part, 100%. Surely I would win something tomorrow.

About a couple hours into the party, the contests began. To a six-year old, it seemed like all the names in the world were getting called, except mine. It did not make any sense to me. I put in all the work. How could I walk away with nothing? Nothing but the same lousy balloon that everyone else got.

I threw a tantrum. I clearly remember the skirt of my dress wallowing in defeat on our linoleum floor. Somebody make me win something, please!! I remember more clearly the expression on my Lolo's (Grandfather's) face. He was looking directly at me. Not with judgment, not with frustration, not with guilt, and certainly not with pity. His elbow was folded, a finger was on his temple, in a thinking posture. It seemed he was waiting for a lightbulb to turn on in my head. When I locked into his focused eyes, the light went on. And it stayed on, until today.

This grandfather of ours, our Lolo Eling - my cousin Karen and I speak about how we particularly adore him, and wish he were still around to tell us the story of his life.

Lolo, you did more for me than you might have ever realized. I hope we can follow in your remarkable footsteps, because I believe that we will only find more reasons for our upheaval.