Life is short.

It isn’t the first time you’ve heard that statement. And if by some amazing possibility you haven’t, you’ve probably seen it as a Facebook status of a friend, or even just scribbled on the door of a bathroom stall.

I like to think as long as you are a living person, you will always, in one way or another, hear or see that within this lifetime. But after the past few weeks, I feel that whatever meaning we ascribe to that statement should change a little bit.

Life is short. Saying that, or even just thinking about it, should change a little when you’ve lost someone special to you. And as far as I’m concerned, I think I speak for the entire Ateneo community when I say we’ve lost someone very special.

I’ll be honest when I say it’s a very daunting task to honor someone’s memory—most especially when that person’s memory is Amanda Hsieh’s.

For the strangers who come across this, let me tell you immediately that it’s still a very humble list when I say she was active in organizations like Kythe-Ateneo, Musmos, Gawad Kalinga, Ateneo Student Leaders’ Assembly and the Ateneo Freshmen Orientation Seminar.

On top of all these commitments, she still managed to be a beadle in her classes while being a top student, at least according to the professors who shared their stories about her.

Sei managed to do all of these things and more, and she still never failed to make the time for her friends. And as one of them, her friendship is one thing I can never thank her for enough—a sentiment I’m sure all of those who still love her share, too.

But inasmuch as I could go on and talk about her long list of achievements, nothing will ever compare to really just talking to her. In the same way I wrote her eulogy, I don’t want to talk about Sei’s life when all I really can do and want to do is talk to Sei. I can’t bring myself to talk just about her memory when I’m convinced this person is still very much present in my own life.

Sei lives—no matter what anyone tells you. As I wrote in her commemoration: When you love someone this much, they never really die. They live in our actions, remain in our lives and stay in our hearts. And if you’ve read this far, I’m sure Sei is very much present in your heart, also.

So if you’ll allow me, please don’t let me just talk about her, but let me talk to her. Let me speak to her one more time by speaking to you, dear reader.

Hi Sei,

How are you?

Did you get my message the other day? I texted you but you haven’t replied yet. If I’m right, you’re probably just as busy up there as you were here. Please reply when you can, but I’m glad you’re taking the time to read this right now.

This isn’t the first letter I’ve written to you, and I doubt it’ll be my last, but what more can I say, really, than I miss you?

We all really miss you.

But you know what? It’s funny. Even after you’ve moved on, you still somehow manage to make your presence felt so much in my life that it’s hard to believe you’ve actually gone on ahead.

I need only check your Facebook, where a lot of your friends are still posting on your wall. I sometimes even make the mistake of thinking that you comment on my posts because you’re in so many profile pictures. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who does.

And when I’m offline and among friends, especially when I’m with the other Kythers, I can’t help but smile and laugh with them when we’re having such a good time together. It’s not so different from the good times we used to share. You should know that I sometimes look at them and smile randomly when I remember you. And when I catch other people smiling and laughing, too, I like to think that they’re thinking of you also. It’s like you never left.

That’s the interesting thing about life: The moment we’ve met someone we’re convinced we can love forever, we suddenly aren’t just concerned with the number of days we have on this Earth. We somehow realize life is more than just that. Life isn’t forever, but we still manage to find it in ourselves to promise forever—I think that’s what it means to love another person. And as far as I’m concerned, I think I speak for the entire Ateneo community when I say we will love you forever, Sei. You’re still very loved, and it’s these small, simple moments, pictures, conversations, friendships and the all-else and in-betweens of everyday life that remind me of that.

Life is short but love is forever. I’ll never get to thank you enough for teaching me that. I could never have found these words on my own—no, you gave them to me. And if that doesn’t say you are very much alive in my heart, then I don’t know what will.

You’re here, Sei. No matter what anyone says. And if any reader, stranger or friend, has made it to these last sentences, then your words have not gone to waste. You’ll live through them the same way you’ll live through all of us—always and in all ways.

Serge Gabriel (BS PSY ‘13) is a part-time Introduction to Ateneo Culture and Traditions adviser. As a member of Kythe-Ateneo when he was still a student, Gabriel became orgmates and friends with Amanda Hsieh, who passed away with her parents, Luis and Roxanne, and her younger brothers, John and Jeff, on February 7.