WE all have roles to play. Sometimes nice, sometimes not.

There are roles assigned to us, forced upon us. When one such case comes along, we don’t usually like it, but accept it we must.

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Life is choices, yes, but life is also following, if not “flowing.”

You follow a command and, sometimes, we do it out of destiny’s desire that we take heed.

Or, you “flow along,” as in going with the flow of a current. Chummy choice. Safe side. Ride the river.

We can’t have it all. Sometimes, we just have to have it. We only take the love we make. Give and take.

Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao couldn’t bring Floyd “The Mouth” Mayweather Jr. to a brawl in the ring with him despite bowing to a couple of silly demands from The Mouth.

Now, Pacman has Antonio Margarito, the disgraced Mexican (he was suspended one year for fighting with fists wrapped in Plaster of Paris), for a foe in November.

James Yap, weighed down by The Spat, couldn’t take B-Meg Derby Ace to the PBA Fiesta Finals. He now appears like a lost soul.

I was almost a lost soul myself yesterday? Kinda.

It went this way.

The son of my nephew had died. Suddenly.

Kenneth’s son, three-year-old Jacobi, had fever on Wednesday night (Aug. 4). At about 2:30 p.m. on Thursday, Jacobi’s fever caused him to convulse.

In 12 minutes, Kenneth and Jasmin Causon, with Jacobi in tow, were at St. Luke’s in Taguig City.

But the Grim Reaper was in his usual element: Jacobi was declared dead on arrival. Heart attack.

Devastated, Kenneth, the son of my sister Atche Elvie, turned to his older brother Tonyfrank, for solace.

“I can’t break the news to Mom and Dad,” Kenneth said to Tonyfrank, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Me, too,” Tonyfrank said.

I got the role.

“God took the young instead of me,” said Kuya Eddie to me. “I saw him last only last Saturday—sleeping like a log.”

He is my brother-in-law, 79, and Jacobi’s doting grandpa.

“That can’t be true,” said an unbelieving Atche Elvie, Jacobi’s dearest grandma.

Truly, if all deaths were only true lies, the messenger’s job would be less burdensome.

Said William Hazlitt: “Death cancels everything but truth.”