Diez dies and we lose a good man

Theirs is a typical love story. An engineer supervising a road project in our town, he saw my aunt, a grade school teacher who passes by the road he’s fixing, morning and afternoon. Later on, he’d send notes to the teacher and sign it as “10″. My aunt was intrigued by her secret admirer. She eventually found out that it was the guy who she often sees sitting in front of Tita Grace’s store on her way home. The guy’s name is Jess, hence the “10″ (diez) signature on his love letters. Not long after, Jess and Chie tied the knot one April morning and lived in Albay. They would have four lovely children: Gabriel, Angelica, Amethyst and Rafael.

Living in Albay, their home hosted friends and relatives going to the mainland to take exams, seek medical attention or process papers in the government’s regional offices. Tito Jess would joke that he’s pressured to turn their tiny, one- bedroom house into a three-storey building to accommodate their guests. True enough, it became a reality after a few years. More than being good hosts to other people, the Balaguers also became second parents to nieces who study in the mainland.

Life was good for the Balaguers,until Angelica got sick. But instead of losing their faith, the Balaguers weathered the test and Angelica, after being in coma, woke up, walked again and is now starting to learn to talk.Then just when everything was just going back to normal, Baby Love, my aunt’s adopted sister, was hospitalized. She has congenital heart disease and needs to go through an operation.So the move to raise funds for her operation began.But a week before a scheduled check-up, Baby Love passed away.

Less than a month after, Tito Jess, who complained of a tummy ache after a serious allergy bade us goodbye. I was shocked.I cried for nights.He was so dear to me. He has seen me grow up, enter university, graduate, take exams, work. He even threw me a birthday party last year! He and my dad likes the same music. He’s also a techie! His eyes disappear when he smiles. He has a signature pasta dish. He can be tough on his children but he also knows when to loosen up. He’s generous and is genuinely happy of our achievements.

 

 

It is painful knowing that the kids are still very young..knowing that they’ve not even recovered from the big blows of the past months…knowing that it’s too early.

And then I remember Job.And like him, I had the same question. Why do bad things happen to good people? I honestly felt fearful that Aunt would begin questioning God and lose her faith because of too much pain.Thankfully, she’s accepted everything and is bent on raising her beautiful family, even without Tito Jess. I pray for her each night that she may find the courage to move forward and carry on. I pray for my cousins. Above all, I pray for Tito Jess that he may find peace in our Father’s kingdom.

I booked a flight to Legaspi on April 3rd so I can see the kids and aunt before going home to the island. I don’t know how I would face the fact that Tito Jess will no longer be there to welcome me or see me off. It is just so painful.Nobody would say “Pirot ka na?” anymore when I begin climbing the stairs to ate ann’s designated room. He won’t be there to say “Atab pa” when I go down at 5am to catch the earliest ferry to the island.

Atab ka man maghale,Tito Jess. Atabanon pa. Wara pa ngani an resulta kan exam mi. Dai ka na lamang nag-alat alat na maging consul o ambassador ako.Hehe.

Diez is gone.We’ve just lost a good man.:(

 

 

 

The Hard Life

This week and the last had been,to borrow the words of UP CMC’s Samaskomers,hell.Deym difficult,like almost getting drowned or dying a slow death.Heaving a deep sigh was all I could do amidst the chaos in my mind,my home and my heart. For what would you think and do when:
-you almost missed a very important exam
-you find yourself in a tiny boat being slammed by giant waves, all nauseaous and scared
-you insert your card a lotta times and the digits remain the same,despite being told that your moolah’s coming on that day
-your dad’s medicine box is almost empty and the drugstores in the island don’t carry some of his meds
-you hear yourself repeating things to your dad,albeit impatiently,during bad spells or when a pity party is underway
-the bills arrive
-you don’t hear again from the org you so want to be part of despite being assured that you’re good and on top of the list(or realizing that what you’ve gathered from their words isn’t always what you think it was,eshtyudent of life.)
-you run after a friendly usurer’s (pardon the term) deadline
-you feel pain on your left abdomen, have a deadly toothache right before an exam or wake up at 4am with a sharp pain on your left chest
-you painfully miss someone and you grapple for memories to tide you over this difficult time (though too much recollection could do more harm sometimes)

And lastly,what would you think and do when you have to go through all these while inside you, you are all broken and hurt? Seriously.

Well, mustering a tough face is indeed necessary.As well as trying to abandon the fact that yours is a sharp,retentive and photographic memory.The bad thing about remembering things is that it makes leaving difficult and more painful. But most of all,it’s channeling your energy to worthwhile things and worthy people.Having said that however doesn’t forfeit the importance of giving yourself a chance to “grieve” ,to scream,shout and cry.In my case though,I had to forego that,even if a beach nearby would be a perfect absorber of all the pain and angst,as the above list are more urgent things to attend to rather the miseries of my sickeningly broken heart.Haha.

It is very difficult.But today,I can tick off almost everything (you gotta give me more time though for the “missing someone ” and moving on” part) and write “solved” or even “paid”(oh boy,it’s all ’bout the money,money!) across it.Proof that all things pass and God does make a way.:)

Until the next episode of hard life which, I predict,would always end,maybe not with flying colors,but with loads of positivity and vivid colors of strength and hope.

Thank you to friends and family who held the line when we were bordering on insanity,desperation and bankruptcy (haha).I, we, owe you. Shoutout to friends named Jub,Mayz and Yas.

Goodbye to You

Reblogged from youcansteer's Blog:

Why is it so hard to let certain people go? Even when you know things will only end in disaster, there are some people you just can’t walk away from. You can have everyone in your life telling you a certain person is trouble, not worth your time and pain. But it doesn’t matter. Even though I know deep down they are right, I can’t make these feelings and thoughts go away.

Read more… 505 more words

Turning your back from someone who's been part of your life for quite a long time is truly not easy. You break a cycle, you ditch a habit and you get lost. What I cannot bring myself to write about these past few days, Youcansteer tackled so candidly.:)

I Miss You Sometimes

Reblogged from Simply Solo: Single girl starting over - follow the journey:

Photo Courtesy of Andrew Enright

I miss you sometimes. Sometimes I lie in bed thinking of you, wondering where you’ve gone. I wonder if you are gone forever, and sometimes I wonder if you were ever really here, or if you were some myth I created in my mind. An illusion. Sometimes I feel you but a breath away, and then something happens and you disappear.

Read more… 880 more words

Some good things about hospitals.

I almost forgot that I have a WordPress account! It’s been months since I last posted an entry. Well, for one, no readers missed me as this blog is only read by my cousins and closest friends.Heehee. But I sure missed WordPress!

So for the year 2012, I am writing my very first post which I hope would turn out to be sensible to my loyal readers. Haha.

So here we go. The last entry was in August.Where have I been from September to December 2011? And since we’re already midway in January, where was I in the first two weeks of 2012′s first month? What have I been doing? Where have I been?

Well, guess what, I’ve got an answer.

Hospital. Or better yet, make that hospitals. Yup, you read it right. September,a week after my dad’s birthday, we were in Immaculate. We then travelled 12 hours in 22 September to East Ave. A few days after, they (as I needed to go back to the island for work) were in posh St. Luke’s Global City.(Thanks to the tower builders):)

God was good that he allowed us to spend Christmas and New Years together. He went home on 5th December, looking good and feeling better.

The holidays came and went and we thought everything’s fine. But on Wednesday, 11th January, dad was very weak and he choked twice. We brought him to good ol’ EBMC where,luckily, a good internist took care of him and, with a seemingly endless IV pushes, nursed him back to health in a week’s time.

Today I look at my dad remembering how grim his face was on that Wednesday afternoon, recalling how his hands trembled and how incomprehensible his words were while we helped him to the car. It’s all gone. What I have now is 53-year old man, enjoying “Beyond Borders” on HBO and asking me if I’d want to be posted in Cambodia.

I used to be fearful of hospitals. That huge building that forever smells of alcohol and drugs and whose corridors, usually lined with three-color trash cans, scream of mystery and horror. But I came to embrace it as a place of refuge for my ailing father–be it the decrepit rooms of public hospitals or the hotel-like ones in St.Lukes.I have learned to “love” it because it is in here where his body regains its strength and his mind finds peace.

So there,for some five months, our lives revolved around hospitals.
Not really a very pleasant experience but this “hospital series” as I call it was more than just getting well and getting healed.

It was also about being patient and learning to appreciate the littlest of things.

*The first time he peed without a catheter, got up on his own, slept soundly after days of restlessness, ate and drank without the scary swallowing sound. Witnessing all these was like seeing a baby’s milestone. It was pure joy. Even up to this day, I find myself murmuring thanks for the little triumphs of everyday.

…about keeping your faith and believing.

*I have never prayed so hard.And it was truly amazing how He make things happen.But the most touching moment in this experience would probably be the time when dad was so restless and I asked him to recite his favorite prayer with me. It was like a lullaby that calmed him and put him to sleep in no time.

…about family.

*If I think about how my brothers who are left in Baga survive each time mom and dad leave them, I hyperventilate. When I remember how we panicked when it’s time to pay the bill, I want to faint. I cry when I think of the school plays and events we missed because dad is in the hospital.But somehow, it all passed. We’ve survived because of aunts, uncles, cousins, etc who shared our burden.;)

…about old friends and reaping what you have sown.

*His last hospital “visit” was a winner, I would say. Imagine getting admitted in a health facility where you know everyone–from the utility guy to the nurses and doctors, the billing clerk and the administrator!

*From the ER,word spread that Clody’s in the house. Former colleagues then trooped to his room and what a reunion it was!One afternoon, there was a soft knock on the door. When I opened it, there was the province’s former health chief bringing dad some oranges.:)

*The billing clerk looked at me in disbelief when she saw the name of my patient.Then she left her post, talked to the hospital admin and I suddenly saw a swarm of uniformed hospital personnel going up to my father’s room. They gave us a discount, too. Gee, thanks.

*One morning, an IW(institutional worker, mom said that’s how they’re called) was cleaning the windows of my dad’s hospital room. Suddenly, my dad called out the guy’s name. High fives and lotsa stories filled the morning.

*A guy wheeling him out to the xray room could not believe that my dad remembers his name. On the way out of the hospital, another guy saw Papa, embraced him then helped him to the car.

On our way home to Baga, dad was teary-eyed. It has been twelve years since that fateful October afternoon. But the warmth and love of the people he used to work with has never faded.

Told him, “You must have done something good.” He answered, “I do not know.Maybe.”:)

P.S.
Yesterday, we went to his friend, an ophthalmologist for a check-up. Again, it was a beautiful reunion.Tio Lito was ecstatic that he hugged my dad like a kid and even asked him to come up for some coffee.He prescribed two types of eyeglasses. The first pair, we got for free.:)

Indeed, our favorite guy must have done something good.:)

Letter to Cleo

I found this tucked in one of the folders of my inspiron hard drive. Written  two years ago at the Pink House.

How do you say goodbye to one of the most caring and loving of all aunts, to the one who makes it a point that to each one she has something to give?

I used to feel this way every time she leaves after our town fiesta- after the pasalubongs have been given away, the bayles are over and the sitsiriyas have packed up- and she has to pack her bags to go back to the city. The night before she leaves, she’d sleep beside me and lull me to the dream world.In the morning, I wake up to the familiar scent of her shampoo and perfume that has stayed on the pillow beside me. It was one of the things my cousins and I dread the most. Because no other aunt was like her.

To our young  minds, she is the aunt whose visit meant new dresses and shoes, with headbands to match, yummy marshmallows and delicious biscuits and chocolates.

To me, the eldest niece, she was the one who first brought me to SM, bought me a blue jumper and treated me to pizza and juice with real pulp at Greenwich.

Almost two decades after, we would have countless McDonald’s and Greenwich dates in the afternoon after class. She, from her care giving school and I, from UP. In the evening, she’d practice her medical demos on me while I ask her to review me for my exams.

I graduated, so did she. And on the day when I spent four grueling hours of exam for a TV network, she left for Canada. My dad would jokingly refer to her as his “OFW” sister. And indeed, staying true to OFW traditions, this sister would then send help to everyone who needs it.

Once she came for a visit then left. A month ago, she came again. And today, she’s flying back to Canada–but no longer as the cherished Aunt Kitz of the Goudrealt children but as an employee of a big supermarket chain. Again, the beloved aunt would work hard for the family and especially for her only angel whom she wishes to bring with her in Canada soon.

As for me, she leaves me with this brand new and gorgeous dell inspiron mini notebook–an early birthday gift for the 26 year old niece who is yet to find her own place in the sun.

I will wait for her next year because her coming brings us pure joy. That is why I don’t wanna say goodbye.

I say see you again. And I love you so.

Take care.

No pressure.

 

http://www.hiphipgingin.com/2011/08/08/stop-the-pressure/

What I learned on a Monday

Yesterday, I called in sick and had the rare chance of spending Monday at home. Coming from a 6-day official trip to the city and lacking in sleep, I decided that my 28-year old body is not fit to work on the dreaded first day of the week. Also, mom’s in the mainland for a conference so dad was just happy that the unica is staying home.

And so, after the two boys had gone to school, I find myself and my dad in the living room. He, having his morning tea while I, on my laptop, giving in to the urge of checking my FB. For a while, I got lost in cyberspace until I hear my dad humming a familiar tune. I knew what was next. He’s going to ask for the title of the song and the artist. It took me a while before declaring that it was Eraserheads’ “Ligaya”.

Ligaya ushered in a long day for my father. Because after her, some fifteen more people, places and just about anything came flashing on his mind until bedtime. Of course, by now, we know the drill. We call people, ask them their or this person’s names. We even have a ready internet connection so we can google anytime he remembers something. And just recently, we got a thick, green book containing all the names of the voters in my town. Yes, we’ve gone that far, all in the name of his peace of mind. You see, before, all my dad wanted were the first and last names of people. But now, he’s been aiming for people’s middle names so the green book does come in handy. And to add to the “horror” that it is now, most of the people popping in his mind are now deceased.

I know you’d probably be googling “remembering names of dead people”, “anxiety disorder” or even “psychosis” now. I have done that already, hundreds of times, but have not found anything that could explain what my dad is going through. Could it be that his mind is sort of reviewing the past 10 years of so of his life? Or these dead people have something to tell him? Or is this a test leading to him becoming a healer or something? Probably his brain cells which has been “dormant” for a time are regenerating? I sometimes suspect that it could be the medicines he is taking. Or maybe, just the boredom, the seemingly endless downtime he had to go through each day?

Sometimes, when he’s bugged by a lot these names and faces, I kid him that he’s partly to blame because he read a lot and he was so smart his thoughts are overwhelming him. Haha. And after that, we’d go on a laugh trip. I’d text him, “Relax, you’re getting well. It’s not even a physical problem, Pa!” To which my cool dad would answer “IKR!” Talk about coolness amidst a sea of faces and dead people.

We’ve gone to a shrink who told him to keep himself busy and gave him some medicines to take. We keep in touch with his doctors. We call our doctor friends regularly. We’ve yet to see a neuro or a neuropsych as there’s none in the island. Plans to bring him to the city has been put off until the moolah is ready.:(

I am not sure but sometimes, I see myself leaning towards the thought that it could not be a total medical case. I sometimes scour the net about meditation, yoga, hypnosis and just about anything about freeing one’s mind. Dad is actually reading a book about spontaneous healing.

We’ve also sought the help from non-medical healers- faith healers, albularyos, etc. And while I’d rather keep to myself their“findings” ,I cannot discount the possibility that dad’s problem could be caused by something that science cannot explain.

But whatever it is, it sure is making our family stronger. And I get surprised at how this has, I do not want to say ‘transformed’, but allowed me to journey through myself and examine my faith. I used to cringe at citing bible verses or even declaring my faith. But one day, I found myself appreciating each word and being comforted by it. Yes, this is me talking. Unbelievable. I read Luchi Cruz Valdez’s story which is a bit similar to us. Her husband suffered a rare kind of stroke and the only words that kept her on her feet were these: “Be still, and know that I am God”.

We have no one else to run to,really. At times when he’s bombarded with a gazillion of names and thoughts, we pray. When he’s better, we pray. We pray in the hope that God’s hands would one day drive away the evils playing with his mind.

So, what did I learn yesterday? Patience.

Monday made me appreciate the enormous, enormous patience of my Mom who would diligently check the thick, green book for some person’s middle name each time Dad remembers someone and who would exhaust all possible means to satisfy my dad’s requests . It made me see how her patience allows her to divide her time being a health worker and a housewife. It taught me how patience is keeping her hopes high that one day, everything will be better.

Monday showed me again the admirable patience and faith of my dad who had been staying at home for more than 10 years. Enduring countless hours of being alone, entertaining himself, texting, praying and always hoping for the best. Now, that’s patience for you.

I learned yesterday not to question God. That I have to believe that better days are coming and that I just need to pray. And wait. Patiently.

D is for excitement.:)

Dear D,

Could you please ask the universe to conspire so I can fly now to your loving arms? Hehe.

Six months would be fantastic and I am sure that I’d be begging to stay longer when it ends.
Looking at the post, I instantly pictured myself doing what I do best- sleeves rolled up, holding a notepad and a pen and listening intently to your people’s stories. And then after, my keyboard will be on fire as I run after deadlines.This, my dear,is a lifelong dream. And I’m ecstatic to see this dream come to life in your country.

Your timing’s just perfect. And the offer is absolutely irresistible. Can’t you see that we’re a perfect match?:)

I know it would take sometime for my taste buds to get used to your cooking. But I’d probably thrive on fruits and crackers in the first few months that I’m there. Of course, I’m sure that I’m going to love your rickshaw.

So please help me in asking all the planets to align in my favor.

I can not wait to spend the next few months of my life with you.

XOXO,

J

Oh weekends, how I love thee!

I have the luxury of spending Saturday and Sunday in my hometown, something that I wasn’t able to do when I was a TV prod slave.:)

And these photos will tell you why I love these two days to bits!

Back when I was a fat, little girl, weekends were synonymous to grandparents.
Now, you gotta agree how lucky I am to get to see them during my day off.

When Kurt sees me, he says Tatan (Tita Ann). Ianna, too is a darling. And Payee, even if her smile is so elusive is such a pretty baby.

Yaying and Boboy Earl. <3:)

Seeing them makes me think how my brothers and I would look like 30 years or so from now.

Uncle Udy is not really our uncle. Being my grandpa’s brother, we should be calling him lolo. But for the Pascuas, we “skipped” one generation as my mom and her sibs call their uncles and aunties “manay” and “manoy”. Being my mom’s “manoy udy”, I grew up calling him “Uncle Udy”.

The highlight of my weekends is when Ilai welcomes me with “kisses” when I come home on Saturday mornings. She’s my first doggie and I love her sooo much!

Be it the simple pleasure of walking the dog in the afternoon, riding the bike, getting some fresh catch and having my favorite jologs merienda, weekends never fail to make me smile.

I have around 10 more weekends to spend in Baga. And I’m making the most out of it.:)