A Pot of Curry: A Culinary Memorial for My Brother
May your hopia always be flaky and your curry properly spiced in the hereafter, little brother T_T Of all the things that could happen out of left field, a family tragedy was the one thing none of us counted on. On 14th June, my younger brother Rev Fr John Francis Frederick K Manlapig passed on from this life into the next, He was, according to eyewitnesses, celebrating Mass; after consecrating the wine into the Blood of Christ, Jeff knelt down, closed his eyes, and simply slumped to the floor. It was, according to the last doctor who looked him over, as if God simply clicked off a switch: he died painlessly, swiftly, and with a faint smile on his face. Up until our sister was born in 1990, it was just me and Jeff for the better part of eleven years. Much of that time, he was an extremely picky eater. Just hotdogs, ham, bacon, and KFC - mind you, he only went for the skin. Oh, and the original Rowntree KitKat bars - a favourite he adored even as he grew older. But a trip to Malaysia
