When I saw her die –eyes blurred and pleading – I didn’t cry. I was conjuring fragments of our final conversation five full hours before she took her life and decided her fate. We were seated opposite each other on the dining table. Earlier she had been calling everyone to come to dinner. Nobody came. I did as I was loath to disappoint her, and miss a meal. At 17, I was bubbly and childlike; I chattered a lot about anything. I remember laughing all throughout dinner, telling her stupid stories about school, my teachers, the lessons, as I was wont to. I wasn’t even listening to her comments as I was too engrossed on myself. I do remember her saying in the vernacular: “ubusa na an ta udyan na ini.” (Tell me all your stories, as this would be the last time).
When she died – eyes blurred and pleading – I didn’t cry. I watched her die. But her words which then found their meanings haunted me the rest of my life. How could I have been so insensitive? How could I have not deciphered her thoughts? How could I have missed listening to what she wasn’t saying? I felt guilty. It was my fault. I could have prevented it. I did not. It was my fault. I felt guilty. I could have prevented it. I did not. When I realized there was nothing I could do, even if I died myself, grief clothed the whole of me. I have no words to describe the gnawing pain. It was killing me, slowly. I have never felt anything close to the anguish of death.
The throbbing was made more poignant by anger – I didn’t know who or what I was hating, or why I should even be repulsed by the thought of him who robbed her of her joy. She, in her letter, only had love and affection for the man I could hate for a thousand life times. He was a man of God. I hated both. I was consumed by sorrow and hate, such a powerful combination to deaden the senses. I was numb to everything – I refused to feel the pain as I wouldn’t know how else to live. When I said my last goodbye—finally in tears cold and bitter—I was good as dead.
But I had to live – a life of lie. I tried to stay strong though I could feel the world crumbling apart and shattering into pieces. I never cried; I couldn’t cry. The world went on and on; people came and left. At the end of the road, I found myself, unrecognizable in my newfound strength. I deceived the world. I also deceived myself. That made it insufferable.
Soon, I left home, unable to piece the parts together. I wouldn’t have left, as I never tried doing anything never well thought of. Unfortunately, I allowed myself to be dragged out of my only sanctuary, and from there life was never the same. The desolation took its toll – I got sick, and thought I have lost my sanity. I would have welcomed that better to stop my pain. But, no, as if life wasn’t through with me, I lived...
I said I could take the same path, why not. I could end the harrowing emptiness. Just like her final act, I passed judgment to myself. I wanted to die. I wanted to die so badly, and at once. I lost all human strength. Even my faithful friends who stood by me didn’t matter. Even the family I so cared about didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I wanted it that way. I didn’t matter, anyway. It was all blurry…
Friday, October 29, 2010
MY SISTERS AND ME
Three girls were born to the family, and of them I was said to be the weakest link. I delighted in the good things. To me, everything was rosy as people would go out of their way to please me; I was a charmer. The youngest in the family, I basked in love and sunshine.
I would laugh and make friends. I was never a fighter and didn’t figure in any of the neighborhood brawls. I never screamed nor ever said bad words at all.
My sisters were different. Gina, the all knowing and all too powerful, would send shivers to anyone who dared engage her in verbal fights. She was so intelligent. I just admired how sharply she would concoct retorts to refute any statement. She didn’t care about age. I thought she’d hurl her legalese even to an 80 year old. Everybody believed she would have made a very successful lawyer.
Agnes could weave outrageous stories and incite rebellion even among the saints. I just so loved to see her fight. Girls or boys, it didn’t matter. Out in the streets, she could actually stop the wind from blowing -- whenever she spoke, everybody listened. Often, she wouldn’t make sense. She would blurt out anything that came to her. In moments like this, I enjoyed coaching her with all the nasty words I wouldn’t have been able to say myself --under the guise of trying to shut her up.
Both sisters often fought my battles. Life was always sunny under their mantle of protection. But I lost one of them – in a manner most bitter -- and that changed my whole life story. Agnes and I were left to face the doom following that sudden death. It was so painful I could not imagine any other pain as excruciating. I was seeing everything in gray. I woke up one day and thought I was nearly blind. It was gray, literally – the leaves, the houses, the endless road. I was writhing in pain, and burning in anger.
Time passed. By the end of the following year, everyone had left. Papa was abroad, just as he had always been. Our eldest left for Manila to perhaps fulfill his promise of one day giving us a secure life. Sure enough, he gave us that. My other brother worked in the Middle East; he didn’t say why. Agnes was everywhere: in Manila, abroad, here. She, too, was trying to find the life that she wanted. I thought they all left to leave the pain behind. But I had not much choice but to stay, fend for myself, fight my battles – alone. Home, I watched my mother wallowed in depression – braving each day the misfortune of a mother outliving her child.
Time passed. I didn’t notice the world. I was busy building a fortress for myself – something impregnable that I remained untouched. I became tougher, stronger…more cautious. I learned to defend myself from anything and anyone. I didn’t back off from any fight or argument. I vowed to rise where SHE fell. I promised myself – I would never give any man the honor of seeing me fall. I was invincible—mighty and proud. I used my pain to subdue all encumbrances. I had it all. Inside, I was rotting helplessly. I dealt with an emptiness so great I thought the hurt would never stop. One after another, I had to deal with the tragedies of my life. At one point, I decided to end it all by ending my life, but decided against it. I risked stepping into the light. I will never forget the day Joseph ransomed my soul.
Time passed. I survived it all. I learned to forget…maybe not entirely, but I buried the pain somewhere it didn’t bother me for the longest time. Until today, when Agnes touched my heart with her words, no matter how plainly spoken. I remember she too was hurting so bad, and perhaps still is. This made me remember what I thought I have so long forgotten.
I miss my sisters.
I would laugh and make friends. I was never a fighter and didn’t figure in any of the neighborhood brawls. I never screamed nor ever said bad words at all.
My sisters were different. Gina, the all knowing and all too powerful, would send shivers to anyone who dared engage her in verbal fights. She was so intelligent. I just admired how sharply she would concoct retorts to refute any statement. She didn’t care about age. I thought she’d hurl her legalese even to an 80 year old. Everybody believed she would have made a very successful lawyer.
Agnes could weave outrageous stories and incite rebellion even among the saints. I just so loved to see her fight. Girls or boys, it didn’t matter. Out in the streets, she could actually stop the wind from blowing -- whenever she spoke, everybody listened. Often, she wouldn’t make sense. She would blurt out anything that came to her. In moments like this, I enjoyed coaching her with all the nasty words I wouldn’t have been able to say myself --under the guise of trying to shut her up.
Both sisters often fought my battles. Life was always sunny under their mantle of protection. But I lost one of them – in a manner most bitter -- and that changed my whole life story. Agnes and I were left to face the doom following that sudden death. It was so painful I could not imagine any other pain as excruciating. I was seeing everything in gray. I woke up one day and thought I was nearly blind. It was gray, literally – the leaves, the houses, the endless road. I was writhing in pain, and burning in anger.
Time passed. By the end of the following year, everyone had left. Papa was abroad, just as he had always been. Our eldest left for Manila to perhaps fulfill his promise of one day giving us a secure life. Sure enough, he gave us that. My other brother worked in the Middle East; he didn’t say why. Agnes was everywhere: in Manila, abroad, here. She, too, was trying to find the life that she wanted. I thought they all left to leave the pain behind. But I had not much choice but to stay, fend for myself, fight my battles – alone. Home, I watched my mother wallowed in depression – braving each day the misfortune of a mother outliving her child.
Time passed. I didn’t notice the world. I was busy building a fortress for myself – something impregnable that I remained untouched. I became tougher, stronger…more cautious. I learned to defend myself from anything and anyone. I didn’t back off from any fight or argument. I vowed to rise where SHE fell. I promised myself – I would never give any man the honor of seeing me fall. I was invincible—mighty and proud. I used my pain to subdue all encumbrances. I had it all. Inside, I was rotting helplessly. I dealt with an emptiness so great I thought the hurt would never stop. One after another, I had to deal with the tragedies of my life. At one point, I decided to end it all by ending my life, but decided against it. I risked stepping into the light. I will never forget the day Joseph ransomed my soul.
Time passed. I survived it all. I learned to forget…maybe not entirely, but I buried the pain somewhere it didn’t bother me for the longest time. Until today, when Agnes touched my heart with her words, no matter how plainly spoken. I remember she too was hurting so bad, and perhaps still is. This made me remember what I thought I have so long forgotten.
I miss my sisters.
LIFE STORY
I once wrote about the bits and pieces of my life, bathed in tears and blood, and as broken as my spirit. I told my story in many ways, hoping I could pick up the fragments and make myself whole again. When I finally got back up, after I had intensely bled, my writings about pain and its aftermath miraculously stopped. Not wanting to look back and start a cycle, I burned them all, with a firm resolve to rewrite my life story.
My life came full circle, and I didn’t understand how or why I was writing from a totally different vantage. It started with that single moment when I wanted to give up the fight, after too long a time of being brave alone. That was one moment of weakness when I could no longer hold on to my might. I finally broke down, and in that moment of aloneness, I have been blessed. I have opened myself to God’s blessings.
I saw the light. I dared trusting again, abandoning myself to him who patiently repaired my brokenness. My life was a farce, and I could afford to lose it without cost. But I didn’t have the heart to break another soul, especially his, who had been so tender and peaceful. He braved my world, totally opposed to his. He showed me I deserve to be here. He brought out the best in me even as he had seen my worst.
Slowly, I was seeing another me. My strength was different. I was starting to achieve, this time propelled by a new found confidence, no longer by pain and the desire to subdue. I was actually making it on my own. I have moved on. I chose to become a better person. I have gone through hell and high waters and made it. Trials still came, but I welcomed them knowing I have gained the wisdom of many years.
Now, I still write – about many things—no longer to attempt rebuilding myself, neither to start a new chapter in my life. I write to record my life’s events, and one day to sort life’s lesson made more valuable by time.
My life came full circle, and I didn’t understand how or why I was writing from a totally different vantage. It started with that single moment when I wanted to give up the fight, after too long a time of being brave alone. That was one moment of weakness when I could no longer hold on to my might. I finally broke down, and in that moment of aloneness, I have been blessed. I have opened myself to God’s blessings.
I saw the light. I dared trusting again, abandoning myself to him who patiently repaired my brokenness. My life was a farce, and I could afford to lose it without cost. But I didn’t have the heart to break another soul, especially his, who had been so tender and peaceful. He braved my world, totally opposed to his. He showed me I deserve to be here. He brought out the best in me even as he had seen my worst.
Slowly, I was seeing another me. My strength was different. I was starting to achieve, this time propelled by a new found confidence, no longer by pain and the desire to subdue. I was actually making it on my own. I have moved on. I chose to become a better person. I have gone through hell and high waters and made it. Trials still came, but I welcomed them knowing I have gained the wisdom of many years.
Now, I still write – about many things—no longer to attempt rebuilding myself, neither to start a new chapter in my life. I write to record my life’s events, and one day to sort life’s lesson made more valuable by time.
MY ANGEL
2011 Group Study Exchange Selection
Rotary District 3820 bound for Ohio, USA
October 9-10, 2010
I was adamant in saying “
I claim it!” because I have wanted it too bad.At the start, though – I simply wanted to get off the ground by jumping to the sun. I knew I stood a slight chance knowing my papers surely would not reach the committee on time. Not that I distrusted the courier, but that submitting on the last day (the very day I learned of the selection) wouldn’t make quite an impression – to me, at least, if I were the evaluator. The following day, however, was a turning point. I received a call from “an angel,” who seemed, without a word, to have an inspired confidence in me; his very voice spoke of calmness I could only interpret to be divine. That sealed my fate – this is a gift, literally – and not listening to the voice is shunning away from what is fated. Recently, I had the same chance that I chose to miss, because I wanted to do what was right. God must have loved me too much to have given me another, without the encumbrances, and I would be a fool to pass it up.
Off I went, not having the slightest idea what to expect. I only brought with me my unspoken faith, my god-given gifts, proofs of my human accomplishments – and proudly, my unwavering sense of adventure – the passion to walk the unchartered. I braved the sickening bus ride (I have motion sickness!) and thought I was at the edge of the earth when I reached the rustic venue. It was quite an expensive trip, for one who is not financially affluent as I am. Alone in the room, I was asking help from friends – in truth I was asking for affirmation, and unintentionally sending a disclaimer – that if I didn’t make it, it is because of reasons I have yet to concoct. At any rate, I survived a lonely and costly night.
Come the day of the selection. I was no longer feeling the jitters because I started to meet others. I love to be around people – their warmth seemed to blend with mine that slowly I was myself again. While getting to know the pack, I was sizing them up – no, not assessing my chance – but, inferring into their personalities. Everyone seemed to be overly eager, and was in for a tough competition. The way they spoke and carried themselves exuded so much self-assurance befitting their qualifications and experiences. The go-getters went over-board, it seemed. I didn’t mind – I might have done the same had I been younger.
The group dynamics was a defining moment – whoever thought of it did an excellent job. It was also perfectly timed because everyone apparently had the momentum, all in their best shape to give it their all. It was different for me – I thought I had become me. That was me – all ready to give way and allow others to shine -- and to offer my insight, only when needed. When it was all over, I had secured my place; I knew it. But, what made it more significant was my realization that finally, I am done with the fast track, over with the dog-eat-dog system – I was unperturbed by the idea of winning; it was easy to relinquish myself on the background. I could simply watch others grow, actualize their passion – while I, I can offer inspiration, the desire to keep on, the rage for life’s beauty, truth and good.
The wait for the interview was agonizing. I had to relive myself at least 10 times. Perhaps, for the longest time, I had been intimidating others that I forgot how to be intimidated. It was like waiting for death to come through a scythe hanging by my nose, pendulum by my side. I watched candidates one to nineteen meet their slow death in the pit, as one by one they were led out of the holding room. There were like one or two who faced near-death but made their way back through the tunnel, and consumed us with more distress. The idea of sing and dance without at least a week’s practice tortured me. I thought I’d write them a workbook in English 2, for a change.
My turn came – leaving at least eight more. The pre-death area was encouraging as I got to be informally interviewed by people who tried to ease out the misery; it was like them saying death is a universal human experience and is the greatest leveler of mankind. By the time I got to the hot seat, with ten people in the panel and at least ten others who all seemed to devour my senses, my confidence almost snapped. I felt though, that the same angel who spoke to me in the beginning was right there – true enough, he was there – and I couldn’t disappoint him – not when I imagined he had tremendous belief in me. Questions kept coming, like bullets that I didn’t have the time to rethink my responses. I answered as candidly as possible, as far as my sincerity and intelligence could muster. Spontaneously, my strength grew that I wanted them to ask more because I could have shown them more. I faltered though when asked what is it that would make them pick me for the coveted post. They all debunked my piece, but I suddenly remembered and told them why I was there in the first place – that I wanted it so bad, more than the rest perhaps. When a panelist questioned: “So, you feel it?” There was not the slightest shrill in my voice and doubt in my heart when I gently said: “No, sir. I claim it!” I saw the pride in the eyes of my angel, and my heart grew – voiceless, I thanked him. And I thanked God, for loving me so much enough to make me believe that His angels also “serve who only stand and wait…”
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