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dad's diner

when i was in grad school (and probably before then and a while afterwards), my dad had two special buddies. they called themselves "the breakfast club" because that's what they did -- they met for breakfast. i'm not entirely sure what they ate when they weren't at my house, but i'm sure no other morning feast could compare to the greasy delights my dad laid before them: fried rice, sausage (maybe even hot dogs occasionally?), eggs, coffee. (probably wasn't exactly the most authentic of filipino breakfasts -- even though i've been a vegetarian for 8-9 years now, i still harbor fond memories of longsilog (loniganisa, sinangag, itlog) -- but it was close.) an uncle was sort of an honorary member of the group, but he wasn't around as frequently as the others.

they had known each other forever. their wives were friends with my mom. these two friends had known each other possibly longer than forever. my dad had helped them get settled when they arrived in the states and we have all lived somewhat close (some closer than others) ever since. after my dad died, i have been grateful to the friends and their families for not dropping my mom from their revels. sure, she may not always be interested in going, but it's very kind of them to invite her.

one friend died this past october (i attended his funeral). the final member of the trio died just a week or so ago (i missed his wake because i was sick, and missed his funeral because i couldn't get off work). my mom has said cheesy things about the breakfast club being reunited now... and you know, i don't believe in the afterlife, but i do like to think of those three old men together again, laughing and bonding over eternally cholesterol-free eggs over easy.

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