today i looked at all my memories with you

I was thinking of how my graduation is coming up in December.
And I wanted to send you an invitation.

I was thinking of how to celebrate your birthday in September.
One hundred and three years of your life; 10 decades.

I was thinking of last Christmas when you and I just sat together.
In the middle of the food and gifts and the people, we laughed at all the things.

I was thinking of seeing you today.
Instead I looked at all the pictures I had with you.
I'm glad that all of them had us smiling together.

I thought I had more time with you.
It never crossed my mind that you might get tired.
People remark on your age but I barely gave it a thought.
I always felt that we were kindred spirits,
You in a 100 year old body, me in a 20 year old one
But always, we were friends.

I'll miss your stories of grand adventures of your past
I'll miss bringing you coffee and a little bit of 'yes, dulce lola'
I'll miss just sitting beside you and yelling a bit louder because you dislike your hearing aid
I'll miss listening to you speak a mishmash of Tagalog, Ilocano, Spanish, and English
I'll miss lending you books that you forget to bring back
I'll miss browsing for crossword puzzles and wondering if you have that one
I'll miss hearing of your dreams for me: to graduate with honors, to be my own person, to be happy
I'll miss watching you show off your jewelry and telling me where each one came from
I'll miss hugging you and resting our heads together while we watch others around us
I'll miss our conversations and our gossiping, and you saying I should paint and draw
I'll miss seeing your smiling face and hearing you laugh
I'll miss you
I miss you

A break from our regular television program.

Of a sort.

It's March, ladies and gents, boys and girls, and any other species that have missed that calendrical change. (Yes, that is a word, I looked it up). What news do I bear? For some reason, most of the news that I have both received and imparted are more of the bad sort. I guess that's one of the reasons I have for not really posting stuff. I know that a lot of you guys already have bad news in your side and I don't want to add to that. I'm not being melodramatic (although yes, it sounds like I am). I am just stating a fact that bad news (gosh, how many times can you say that?!) is flittering and fluttering around like a pesky mosquito out to suck more of your blood.

Bad news came in the form of my grandmother (my mom's mom) had a stroke, of my aunt (my mom's older sister) who passed away from cancer complications, of my uncle (my dad's in-law) who had a mild heart attack, and other minute details that just keep snow-balling down my so-called life mountain. I guess it saddens me that the only grandparent I have is in more pain and debilitation when she should be enjoying her older years. And it saddens me that the aunt I promised to grow my hair for so that I could give it to her for a wig won't be here to experience that. I feel like I broke a promise. And I feel for my mom and her siblings since this is the first time that they lost a sibling. It's sad. As for my uncle, I feel for him and my cousins since we already lost my aunt to heart attack too. And the fact that I am studying to help people with their health isn't really helping matters right now. Even with all the progress in health care and in technology, we're still human at best. And people can still die at any moment.

This past week, it was the first time that a client passed away on our floor. It was shocking and you just have that moment of 'ah, there, life's just too fleeting'. It feels odd to still be alive when death happens. And this past week and the weeks to come, I fear for someone dear to me. I pray in my head that please, God, anyone but her. I don't know how I'll bear it if anything happened to her. It's selfish and I know that even now I am trying to suppress how I feel since I am once again not sleeping, and I haven't been focusing on my studies when I should be when I have a test tomorrow. It's different when you're the one in that situation of impending crisis; it's the calm before the storm and you can't help but wonder if anything will be left standing after the ravages of the elements. For the first time, I feel like my nightmare will come true. And the worst part is, this isn't even about me. All I can do is pray and breathe and hope to God that He'll be there to pick up the pieces that are left of me.

I know that this is vague. My feelings at the moment are just in turmoil so bear with me until I can get it all out there in a cohesive and understandable way. At this time, I can't help but think of that song from Mercy Me, "Bring the Rain", it's appropriate I think.

Bring me joy, Bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings you glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain.

They told us not to cry

My best friend sent me an instant message asking if I was there. I replied and received her response that said her grandfather just passed away. He never woke up. Oh.

I gave my condolences and said that I was sorry. And I was. I was sorry for the fact that she wasn't able to say goodbye. I knew how hard it was for her to receive a call or a text message letting her know that she no longer had a grandfather. I knew how it felt when you hear family cry over the phone. It's unimaginable. It's painful to hear heartbreak over the line.

She asked me if I knew how much he meant to her. That he was the father she had in her life. And that she was so sad. I told her I did. That I knew how much she loved him and how much he loved her. I told her that I understood how much it hurts that she was unable to say goodbye to him. But I knew that he would never begrudge her her feelings. That he would not allow her to pretend that she was okay, that it was okay, that it didn't hurt. I told her that it was okay to cry.

She told me she again that she was so sad. She told me of her plan to go home to the province, that she asked for a leave. I wished her a safe trip. I said that I would pray for her and her family. I asked her to give my condolences to her grandmother.

I was slightly uncomfortable when I was chatting with her, honestly. I knew she was crying when she was typing since she misspelled every now and then. That was the first time that I ever told someone that it was okay to cry. And even as I expected her to cry, I was unsure whether I was actually comforting her correctly. No one tells you as you grow up, "this is how you comfort someone, especially when they lose their grandfather, specifically when you're chatting with them continents away."

The twenty-first century has seen evolution and devolution, raced through inventions and application of laws and logic. Human socialization is growing even as you read this through interactive networks but there is a growing chasm in human connection and community. We don't hesitate to "add" someone, a friend, an aunt, a cousin twice removed, or the crazy uncle no one talks about on our page. But there is a definite pause when asked who lives three doors across your house or if you actually acknowledged that small smile-nod Mr. Smith gave you earlier or you either stared between his brows and gave your own smile-nod as you ducked away.

I think people are becoming socially awkward. Even as I admit that no one is taught the art of comforting and say that it comes naturally, I find that I am at a loss as to how I should break that silence of grief. That I don't say or not say something and then wince as I see them shirk further away. Some might say that just being there counts as an act of comfort. I suppose. But then my being continents away does pose some trouble. I don't want to make an ass of myself as I type an instant message.

All I could tell my best friend was from my own experience. She told me again that it hurt so much. And I replied that it would get worse. That it would hurt as she would remember how he looked, his favorite breakfast, how he smiled when she would greet him as she came home. That we lose parts of ourselves when a person we love passes away. I couldn't bear to tell her that sometimes we would forget how their voice sounded like, or whether they ever wore this shirt. The simple details would fade from our minds even as we desperately try to hold on to as much as we could.

I couldn't tell her that it would ease in time. That it would hurt less. That she would be able to breathe easier. And that she could smile at the thought of him in time and not be guilty that she was still alive. That it would be okay not to cry. But maybe I don't have to. Maybe she'll figure it out herself.

The great thing about human beings is our capacity for change, our capacity to adapt, our capacity to survive. And the great thing about us is that we don't have to be told how to comfort someone; that even as we awkwardly pat someone on the back, it comes naturally. I think it is great to be a human being. That's the beauty of humanity, we are always being. Not becoming, or doing, but being.

Always the Smart Ones

I bet her eyes widened as her brain digested what she just heard. I can imagine how they would hold that involuntary response for a second, and then she would blink. But her mouth would be slightly opened as she would form the words, "What? What happened?"

I asked her how she felt. Sad. Yes, I was too. But then she says, "So, nice weather we're having." And all I could do was laugh while we proceeded making small talk to hastily change the subject. There we were on the phone discussing cows on the freeway, brunch, how Twilight sucks, and the distinction between cliff diving and cliff jumping. All the while in the backs of our mind contemplating how it isn't really funny, and we shouldn't really be laughing. It was inappropriate after all.

"We need to talk. I need to talk to you," was what my Mom first said when she opened their bedroom door. And I could tell it was going to be a serious discussion. And in a habitual childhood-borne reflex, I started thinking of what I could have possibly done wrong in the past couple of days, and then weeks, that warranted that serious tone of voice, and that grave facial expression.

My mom started with chitchat. She explained why she didn't think visiting my cousins would be a good choice, because she couldn't, no time, and all that. And then she explained why she wouldn't agree to my desire of buying a smaller cupcake pan, because it wouldn't be fair for everyone. I understood, I explained that I figured that out. It's fine, I'll get over it. "It just makes me feel bad when you make that face, I feel like it's my fault." It's not, Mom, it's normal that I'll be sad. But I get over it.

What is this about? I was asking mentally because we don't normally do this, we do, but not over trivial matters of vacation or cupcake pans. So I asked, "Is that all?" And not surprisingly the answer is No. The next thing she tells me makes me frown, raise my eyebrow, take a breath, and laugh. Maybe that was inappropriate as well. But I did not mean to be disrespectful in light of having someone I loved try to cheat life and fail.

It made me both mad and sad that she did that. I was mad at myself because she felt she couldn't approach me at any time. I was mad that she bottled it all up and used a bottle to end it all as well. I was sad because she's only fourteen, and in the two years I've been with her I didn't see it coming. Or maybe I did and it pisses me off because I chose not to see it. I was sad because it shouldn't have come down to that and she shouldn't have felt the need to do that.

What do I tell her? Do I ask her why? Do I pretend that it's okay and say everything will be fine? Do I tell her honestly that what she did was crap and that she should have thought of her family? Of her younger siblings who looked up to her? I could say that the worst thing I've heard is someone saying they're giving up on life. It makes me feel like there's nothing worthy enough for you to stick around here until the end. It makes me feel so angry because there are hundreds and thousands of babies being born everyday that don't even survive to take their first breath. And it makes me sad because no one should choose that option ever.

We all have our pain, we're all broken, and we're all human. And if you think that life sucks, then welcome to the real world. Because in this world your younger sisters will be affected and scarred by that all their life. The youngest might not even know what happened but your younger sister, well, you probably broke her heart. This might sound spiteful, it might offend you, that I'm ranting at you when you're in a frail and delicate situation. But you should at least think about the fact that I care enough to be angry, I care enough to be mad at you. You have so much going for you, you're smart, you have a great sense of humor, you're highly intelligent, you have a great family, and you don't have body odor. I hope you realize that life doesn't have to be perfect for you to be happy. Life is pain, but it is a gift. Life is a choice and in all things you have a choice. The only thing you don't have a choice over is death. But when the time comes for that, I hope you can honestly say you don't have regrets on how you lived.

Cheers, Tito! This Miller Lite's for you.

I saw him last Tuesday. He was yellow and pale at the same time. He was frail, and thin. Yet I took comfort that he was laughing with the rest of us. He looked vulnerable when he cried as we prayed, yet he held himself strong. His quiet strength was still immanent.

I'll miss him. When I looked toward their bed I kept expecting him to open his eyes and smile. My eyes deceived me when I thought his eyes were fluttering, as if he were only asleep. "Any moment now," I thought to myself, half expecting he'll look up and see everyone praying around his bed.

I answered the ringing phone. She was crying on the other end; seeking comfort, asking for strength. "Wala na siya. Wala na ang Tito Ben mo. (He's gone. Your Uncle Ben is gone)." My dad wanted to pray, delaying it with hymns. I wanted no songs so I left and went ahead. I needed to comfort her crying, I needed to cry as she comforted me.

I didn't even notice that I was crying until I felt tears wet on my face. Odd, I never thought I'd cry. I wiped them as fast as they fell but I didn't bother trying when she hugged me tight. There was no point when she was crying herself. I finally prayed while we cried. I needed to calm down, I had no need for grief when that could come later.

"Restlessness is a the first sign of hypoxia." When you lack oxygen, you'll be restless. I remember writing that down on my Pathophysiology notes. He was restless yesterday, and he was already confused. He was talking of fish and labels. I didn't understand. Is what she said as she explained what they both went through. I nodded, I only understood the signs and symptoms.

I thank God I met him, for a brief moment that was a lifetime. It was a blessing and a pleasure to have known someone as humble and generous and loving. I can only be amazed that God created someone like Tito Ben, brought him to our family, and took Him back, with him in our hearts and memories. I thank God because he passed away surrounded by his family.

This is January 30th of my life. This is the day he passed away. Two days from her birthday and six from his. May God rest his soul.

Then and Now.