Gone Too Soon

One will never know how much a person means until that very person is taken from us forever.  Wilma, was my 'kumare.'  I am the godmother of her firstborn.  We were neighbors for at least 10 years, spent Christmas and New Year together, ate together when we needed to, shared our food, our homes, had fun, went places, shopped, ate and ate and told endless stories - all except that one story I'm waiting to hear.  I guess I'll never get to hear it after all. Wilma was born on August 2, 1983 and passed away at the age of 32, on August 22, 2015.

Wilma,

I don't know how to say this...but you were just gone too soon, my friend.  I'm waving at you up there.  At least that's my belief.  Mornings are difficult.  Passing by Pan De Manila or a bakery with pandesal is extremely saddening.  You were never too fond of pandesal but somehow, that was the one thing you bought anytime you or your kids were hungry.  I will always remember you when I pass by any bakery.  The morning sun will never be the same too.  I always feel tears ready to fall when I think of you just soaking up the morning sun whenever you could.  That's what you liked. 

Sobrang hirap tanggapin ang pagkawala mo.  Baka kasi super bata ka pa and super bigla.  Wala ka man lng nasabi sa amin ni Jessa tungkol sa mga nararamdaman mo.  Bakit?  Alam ko hirap kayo sa pera pero sana naisip mo rin ang tatlo mong anak.  Ang hirap isipin na wala ka na.  I guess, you're looking and watching over them from up above.  Bakit?  Why?  That's always what I ask myself when I try to make sense of what happened.  One week ago, you were taken from us so suddenly.  Kami yung nagmamahal sayo.  I don't regret na di kita nakita simula na nagkasakit ka.  Alam mo yan.  Alam ko di ka makikinig sa akin na magpadala sa ospital. Pero kung ako yung asawa mo...sa ayaw't sa gusto mo - I'd bring you.  I always think that if you were brought to the hospital earlier, you probably would still be alive today. 

There are so many things that've crossed my mind.  Ayoko mag-isip ng masama sa asawa mo.  Kilala mo ako.  Sabihin mo na lng na medjo idealistic pa ako hanggang ngayon - kahit ang tanda ko na.  Pero ganun talaga.  I've always believed in the best of everyone. 

Diba kakakwento mo lng sa akin nung August 17.  Last na kwento mo na pala yun.  Alam mo yan.  Your stories about your kids have always made me happy.  Kahit sabihin ng iba corny.  Kahit di ko naman talaga sila kadugo - you made me happy.  You always made me happy with stories about them.  Parang mga anak ko na rin sila. 

I don't know what's going to happen to them now.  I feel frustrated because I feel that you were hiding something from us. I remember the times that you came up to my unit and it always looked like you wanted to tell me something but stopped yourself short.  I'll never know why but who knows.  The truth will always have a way of revealing itself.  Were you being hurt?  How did you live each day in pain?  Did you?  Sigh...I hope you show up in my dreams one day and let me know what you were going through.  For now, it's all a guessing game.  Jessa is traumatized.  I feel for her.  I know that all I have to do is to be there for her. 

Watch over us, okay.

Bye for now.

Marie

Thoughts

Yesterday on the bus to the office, I sat thinking how the previous weekend went.  How crazy I was, my friends told me, to have traveled alone to a place 5 hours away just because I couldn’t bear to be in traffic while trying to get on a bus heading towards the Metro.  Instead, I hopped on another bus going to Baguio, spent hours staring out at the rice paddies, the small houses that we would pass by from time to time, the herds that were out grazing.  It was a crazy weekend indeed.  But I needed that quiet, my alone time to just step back and re-think about my purpose in life. 

I wrote the other week about my purpose in this life.  I’m beginning to realize that that purpose will never come about if I don’t live my life with some purpose in mind.  What do I hope to accomplish?  As always, one of the things I learned from my 7 Habits of Highly Effective People session, was that we all need to live each day as if it were our last.  It seems dire – like some kind of doomsday decree.  The speaker went on to add that if were to have people write on our tombstone, what would we want to see.  That just gets to me every time I think of it.

There’s nothing like being surrounded by peace and quiet.  Even the occasional yells of the bus conductor fell on deaf ears.  So immersed was I in my thoughts. I started to ask myself how different I was now from then.  I like the changes but I still need a lot of room to learn and improve.  

It took me 25 years to learn a lot of things and I am still learning.  

I learned that sometimes, I’d have to really see for myself and learn that we have people who wouldn’t care less about me and other people who’d genuinely care.  A number of people who do aren’t even related to me in blood.  When I left home at 21, my parents told me that I’d probably not meet people who were as kind and as understanding as they were.  They were right.  I met people who were kinder and even more understanding, who really saw to it that I lived my life as I should, who gave praise where praise was due and admonishments when necessary.  There were no shortcuts, no sugar-coated words – just the plain and ugly truth of me being too proud, too stubborn, too haughty, too weak, too quiet, too unsociable, too laid back.  I was too many of many other things.  I cried and thought I wasn’t worthy to even live, but then when I came to my senses – I realized that all those words hurt because they were true. They didn’t stop there.  They advised, they prodded, they praised, they admonished (yet again), and encouraged me to be the best person I could be.  I am still living short of their expectations.  The struggle is real. 

I learned that the world doesn’t always revolve around me.  In fact, there are only a few people who really know me – a handful at best.  All the others think they know me, but that’s for me to know and them to find out.  When I thought my parents were too strict (and they were) because I was never allowed to go to soirees or to any overnight pajama party, I called one of my sisters-in-law and we would talk until 2AM.  I didn’t talk to my sister or brothers.  I called her up (it was during those times when we didn’t have cellphones).  We called people to talk to them instead of texting.  Thank God for in-laws who care.  If not for her, I would have gone crazy and would probably have remained melancholy for the rest of my life.  

I learned that no matter how hard I may have been hurt, that I can rise above all of it, not by trying my hardest to forget and pushing the hurtful memories into a dark corner of my mind but by actually remembering and facing my fears about it, talking about it, sharing it with others who care and who’d listen with their hearts.  When I first left Caryana, my parents only gave me a very short time to talk about my life there and weren’t really interested in the details.  I was hurt about that fact but I remained quiet and conceded to whatever they wanted for me (I tried at times).  A few weeks after the great escape, I was in school.  So I had to put all that aside, and concentrate on conquering life – which was school and people, learning a new language (Tagalog) and taking new classes.  I loved school but I had such a difficult time getting to know people because they didn’t understand what I said.  At the time, I felt crushed when some girls would laugh in my face whenever I said something in English.  They looked at me like I was an alien and even asked where I came from, how come I was a Filipino but didn’t know how to speak Tagalog. I took this rejection hard.  There were only a handful of people who took to me and accepted me for what I am maybe because we had a few things in common like the love for books.  Sometimes, children can be quite hard on other children but then if we know just how innocent and how straightforward children are, it makes me understand the situation even more.  What’s sad is that I’m looking back only now, after so many years – trying to look at things in a different light.  But at least there were a few precious ones who cared to listen back then.  People with listening hearts are rare, but they do exist.  

In the most difficult moments of my life, I’ve realized that whether I wanted it or not, I had to accept that my friends were not going to be with me 24/7 (even if they said so).  But they always meant well whenever they said they’d be there for me.  Even if I wanted time to stand still, the earth to stop rotating on its axis – it just wasn’t going to happen.  Life went on, my friends had their own lives to live, they had their own things to do.  They could stop and listen only after they were done with all the things that they needed to do but not before then.  How I cursed them and thought they were selfish.  Now that I find myself in the same situation, I can all but put my hands up begging for a little patience and a little understanding – that things are easier said than done; that even if I want something to be done, sometimes, it does take 2 or 3 or even more to tango.  I look back at those times and can’t help but smile a bit and be sad a bit too at how I needed to be creative to survive. 

I learned that alone time doesn’t need to be scary after all.  In fact, it’s when I can think best, I can just be me – with no masks and no fears.  I think I scared myself even more than others did. Alone time can be good because strength can also be gained from my inner self.  My strongest supporter will be me. 

I learned that sometimes my fear in so many things, in many people, in circumstances that could’ve happened may have been borne out of past experiences, but it’s something I have to face.  I am still working on facing them. 

I learned that when I really am desperate, I need to let people know that I need help too. I’m trying to dig deep to find out why I always thought that needing help was a form of weakness.  I can’t put my finger on it to determine when it even started.  Nevertheless, a helping hand is always good to have.   I’ve grabbed on to many a helping hand – for food, for shelter, for acceptance, for someone to unburden my pains to.  I also found that the people who lend a hand and listen with their hearts don’t ever demand anything back except that you do the same for someone else.  It’s an unwritten promise and something I’d like to keep.

I learned that when I have children (and I’m still hoping), I need to listen with my heart.  Children feel, listen, learn and remember whatever we, grown-ups say or do.  It’s imprinted in their minds forever just like mine was.  I never ever want my future children to feel that they’re too young or they’re not smart enough to understand what’s happening around them.  Sometimes, words don’t really say it all.  Feelings and actions do. I want them to know that even if they may be too young to make their own choices, they can always start from the little things – simple things such as choosing between ice-cream and cake, choosing what to wear, where to go, or what hair piece to wear; that whatever choice they make, I don’t have to stop it but I can improve on it and give them my opinion too.  I’ve learned to be careful of what I say and not keep thinking that children move on from hurt a lot more quickly than grown-ups do.  They do, because they live in the here and now.  There is no point in going back to the past nor do they look too far into the future.  What’s important for them is NOW.  

So today, I am thankful that I am able to get up every single day; that the entire day may be rough but that I will never know every detail until I live each second and each minute of that day until the entire day has transpired. 

I’ve learned that when I do something wrong, the world isn’t going to end.  I just have to accept it and learn from it. As the saying goes, “pride goeth before the fall.”  It’s happened time and time again and I’ve gained nothing from it but pain.  So this is what’s important.  I can’t be perfect and I can’t expect others to be perfect as well.  I can blame no one except myself for the choices that I’ve made. 

Most of all, I’ve learned that I have to put in a lot of effort to help myself.  People can help out.  But if I don’t want to be helped, it won’t mean a thing.  So I’ve got to start with something simple – something I’d like people to remember me by.  Life is short and I’ve got to make the most out of it.  I’ve survived a lot and I can continue to survive.  Survive and live life!

My Journey to Freedom: That Last Leap

It took me about a week just to plan where to go and what to do.  The only plan was to get out.  I didn’t know what was waiting on the other side to tell you the truth, because so much of the planning was set on how to just get over the wall.  Below is a picture of the place I escaped from 25 years ago.  Well, almost but not quite.  25 years ago, the only thing that stood there was the house that was newly built.  There were no trees and the place had very little grass.  It was mostly hot sand/soil and a few stones here and there. 

Prior to that night, I had also planned to escape - obviously those attempts and plans were unsuccessful. But for that one week, I was willing to risk everything just to get out of there or have Mona take charge of us and the kids we were caring for again.  There was no way I was going to go through all that pain she dealt us over and over again nor be witness to how she dealt with the kids.  The week before she came, I took the keys from one of the rooms I was staying in, and walked towards the gates with my back leaning on the wall.  I needed a bit of stealth.  For a 13 year old girl who was barely 5 feet, the gates looked huge at the time.  Even the padlocks were quite heavy and turning the keys in them took a lot of effort.  It was also noisy – too noisy. Each time, I tried test-opening the padlocks, the very sound would ring in my ears.  I always thought I’d be caught there and then. Luckily, no one came. I practiced thrice.  Each time, was unsuccessful.  The only way out then was to go over the wall.  

I was even luckier because one of the workers who was assigned to the place had left his home-made scaffolding.  How I prayed that he wouldn’t move it to another section of the wall it was against.  It was situated near my room and would be hidden in the dark when I made my escape. On the day that I left, I would peek out ever so often to ensure that it was still there.  Mona arrived that night. I obviously wasn't excited to see  her.  The scaffolding was exactly where I needed it to be and I felt like it was a good sign for me to leave.

I wanted to leave early because I didn't want to have anything else to do with Mona. I packed a small bag with whatever presentable clothes I had – which wasn’t much. When I reached the top, that’s when I finally realized that I didn’t even take into consideration the barb wires that would be on there.  Plus, I realized then and there how foolish I was that I didn’t even think about what I would be landing on.  Would I land on grass, on water, in a pit, or on concrete?  I had no idea and I only had a few more minutes to decide.  I just knew there was no way I was getting back down.  My heart was beating wildly, the blood rushing through my ears.  I felt that everyone in the building would hear it.  I felt light-headed.  The barb wires were stuck to my clothes and I couldn’t really figure out how to get to the other side of that wall without hurting myself.   The only option I had was to hold on to it.  I couldn’t leave my clothes or else I’d have no change of clothing.  After a few minutes, I decided to take the risk and just grab on to it.  It hurt but I thought back then that the pain would be all worth it.  And it was.  For every barb that stuck to my clothes, that scratched and ripped the skin of my hands – my freedom was definitely all worth it.  The only things I have left to remember that ordeal with is the scar from one hand that isn’t very visible but it’s there to remind me that before happiness – sometimes, pain is the only thing that paves the way for us to treasure it even more - I also have my memories. 

Gadgets or Human Interaction?

"At the beginning of life, symbiosis is of prime, positive importance to both sexes.  It begins as a growth process, freeing the infant of the fear of being vulnerable and alone, giving her the courage to develop.  If we get enough symbiosis in the beginning, we will later remember its pleasures and be able to look for it in others; to accept and immerse ourselves in it when we find it, and move out of it again when we are sated, knowing that we will always be able to re-establish it.  We will trust and enjoy love, take it as part of life's feast - not feel we must devour every crumb because it may never come again."

                                                                                                                             My Mother/Myself
                                                                                                                             by Nancy Friday

I often re-read this when I feel like just having my own space or on the other side of the spectrum, become too dependent on another's company for my own pleasure.  The search for a real and true relationship is a struggle.  In this day and age, conversations at the dinner table, or conversations with friends have been exchanged for entertainment that could be had with technological gadgets.

Facebook, the iPads, the Android phones, and tablets etc. are good to use for a time.  But it could get addicting.  I am guilty of this and so I know how it feels.  I am worried that our younger generation grow up with a world of their own.  Their friends are avatars or icons on their gadgets and they miss out on a lot of the human interaction, the need to socialize, the need to talk, the need to commune.  It's a scary thought.

Sometimes, I feel  a bit paranoid just thinking ahead to what could possibly be our future. There's a good side to technology and there are definitely cons to it.  The absence of the warmth of a friend's voice or the feeling of safety and security that comes with a  hug is altogether missing nowadays. There is no telling what would happen with the sudden absence of these gadgets - would all be as it should be? It's a possibility but then as the latter part of the quote indicates, it could also turn into a situation where too much of what we want is also a bad thing.

Muffin Mist - Part 1

Muffin Mist you came to me at 2 months old.  You were the smallest of the litter, had a very shot tail and looked like you just didn't belong.  But guess what? I had my eyes glued on you.  I petted your siblings but you were the one I picked up and held close to me.  Like all dogs that were and are with me, your first kiss left an imprint on my heart and there it will stay until we part ways and find ourselves at Heaven’s doors.  You are about 3 years old in man’s years now.  I guess it’s about time I write.

Every time I read about pets and what not, it’s either I laugh because the stories are funny or I cry because the stories are sad.  I guess your story would be both happy and sad. 

I’m the only human that will ever, ever love you for just being you.  No one will ever understand your personality the way I do.  You’re affectionate when you want to be but you hide a mean streak and always show it when I’m not around.  That’s what I don’t like.  I come home at times, to hear that you snapped at a child or that you growled or ran after someone.  What will I do with you? 

I can’t count the number of times that friends and neighbours suggested I have you put down.  I could never ever do it.  I thought about euthanasia for you if only to stop it.  But you know what, only a few have seen just how gentle you can be.  I cried rivers every single time someone tells me that I have to let you go. 

This is only between the two of us. 

Muffin, I will keep you for as long as I can.  I hope my loving touch will erase that mean streak you have and which you never ever show me.  Call me selfish.  But I’m keeping you because you make me happy.  I love the way you cuddle, I love feeling you right beside me in bed.  I love the way you greet me every morning.  Such exuberance! I love how you greet me when I get up from bed.  I don’t like the way you look at me at mealtimes though.  It’s as if you haven’t been fed and we know that it’s the exact opposite.  I love the way you just come to me at random and place your chin on my lap or reach out with a paw.  Others don't see that and that's okay with me.  They probably don't need to because that's your special side and only special people see it. 

I did a bit of research about dog pounds here.  They’re deplorable to say in the least.  Never.  I can never ever bring you to a place that would ultimately lead to your death.  Time away from me brings you anguish.  I don’t think I will ever stand that look of betrayal many dogs have probably given when their owners left them especially if it comes from you.  I'd probably have nightmares many times over.  So no.  The answer is a definite ‘NO!’

I pray that the only touch you will ever feel in your lifetime is one of love.  I tell that to you often and now I’m writing it too.  I pray to that we will be together for as long as I can keep you - where no calamity has separated us or some unforeseen event.  I can't really think of any other possible reason as to why we would be apart - except that I travel at times.  The most beautiful thing is that I'm excited to come home to you. So live, love, and just be you.Who knows, as a spirit, you may later on turn into something else – a human maybe – and you’d be able to read this.  I hope you'd be able to. 

To My Little Sister - Part 10

April 1, 2015

Dear Rose,

One more day to go before I spend the Holy Week there.  It'll have been 25 years since.  The nice thing with hearing mass there at this time of the year is that I know that the Holy Week ceremonies are going to be a lot more solemn and definitely a lot more different than the ones I've seen out here.  Memories of those times are quite faded.  The only thing I remember is the solemnity.  I sure am looking forward to Easter Sunday most of all.

I'm still reeling from how quickly things turned out the way they did.  A lot of people are happy for me and I know a lot of others who may not be too happy.  But you know what?I frankly don't care much.  I'm at an age where I just do the things I need to do in my life.  I don't have a lot of expectations for the Holy Week other than that I will be living in peace with myself and a couple of friends. If I see you,I hope it'll be good. I don't have to talk to you.  I just need to see you're happy.  You have no reason to fake happiness if you aren't.  I'll know as well if you are.  From all that I've heard from Monsie, I'm more inclined to believe that all is well and that you've finally found your niche in that community.  I am also dealing with making peace with that fact.

As you probably will read from my previous letters - I'd rather you stay.  I know that choices need to be made on your own.  But you know what, it really isn't worth the pain, the noise, the pollution, the chaos that is out here.  I like it because it's taken me 25 years of living it, of getting used to.  This is my life now.  Would I return someday, it would probably be safe to say that I'm not closing all my doors at this time.  I can't say for sure.  I like my life out here because there isn't too many rules I need to follow.  For sure, there are rules in that community as we both know so well - the question is whether I'm willing to leave everything and abide by those rules again - of prayer and of work.  Not at this time. I'm to steeped in the way of life here.  It was good that Monsie accepted that fact but that she had advised me to be cautious.  I will keep that in mind.  One cannot be too pious out here as I've learned many a time.  One needs to be strong-willed.  But then I can only do so much.

So, I hope see a glimpse of you in the next few days.

Love ya,
Marie

Note: Super duper late post

To My Little Sister - Part 9

March 30, 2015

Dear Rose,

By now, you may have heard that I paid a visit to Monsie yesterday.  After 25 years since I left, I can't really put into words how I feel right now.  I feel light but still apprehensive about what we talked about for almost 8.5 hours yesterday.  For the most part, she was able to confirm that what was done to us was a big mistake.  There was no one to care for us at the time and there was just no one who'd be able to handle our group and that's why Mona was assigned to care for us (more, more sighs.)  It was definitely unfortunate that she had to be the one to care for us and dole out so much pain.  But then, when I look back at the time, it's with a mixture of distaste for what has been and a feeling of triumph for what was.  I can continue to move on with my life as you have yours.  I do hope again, you've moved on with better memories, good memories.

If Monsie tells me that life is good for you, then it must be.  If Mona hasn't been and never will be in charge of watching over other people, then everything should be okay, right?

I asked to speak with you yesterday.  Monsie said, maybe one day I could.  It's definitely something to look forward to.

Gotta rush off for work.  Talk to you more when I write next.

Love ya,
Marie

Note:  Late post again.