How can 1 year and 6 months not hurt?

As a child, whenever I scraped my knees, or everytime I have to take down yucky tasting cough syrup, or endure injections whenever sick, my parents would always egg me on and boost my faltering spirit by telling me “Tapang yan eh! Dali, mas matapang ka pa nga sa kuya mo eh! Antapang o! Pakita mo na na matapang ka!” Then glowing with pride for my supposed bravery and feeling that I have to live up to my image as their “braver child”, I would take deep breaths, hide any traces of fear I might still have from my parents, then take the damned medicine/endure the injection/swallow back tears that are about to come.
Now that I am all grown-up, I still try to put up my “braver child” façade. And because they’ve stopped telling me those encouraging words the time I stopped being “bulol”, this time I do the cheering for myself. Every time I am reminded of a happy memory of something that is no longer a part of me, and when moments come that I yearn for this old friend, I just stop to console myself and internally whisper “Sssshhh… Tama na. Tahan na. Tapang yan eh!”