too much for one heart
It must be heartbreaking for a parent, my dad in this case, not to be able to give what his son is asking him of. I remember vividly how I whined and cried about when my dad came home one night without the Lion-O, Thundercats action figure, I asked him to get me that day. This I remember while slicing a fourth of the raisin bread he bought Cathy and myself from Baguio Country Club. This is a biggie for me because my dad isn't as liquid now as before. Back then, whenever a toy or a book wasn't given me, it was because my parents were teaching me something--discipline, control, waiting, value for money. Now, it's different: it's because they don't have anything to give me anymore. Asking for shoes, clothes, or what not, in my growing up years, was like throwing coins in a fountain--wishful thinking was I, er, no, more like self-delusional. So to receive small surprises like a raisin bread, or a bowl of giniling, or a bundle of suman, or to not be nagged about the P500 contribution for the weekly laundry means more than just getting things for free. It's about the many small sacrifices my parents make to keep me comfortably afloat. It pierces my heart to think that the slice of raisin bread I'm munching in between oral exams is something my parents worked hard for and denied themselves of. I bite this bread with reverence and gratitude but also with pain in my heart.
Such are parents. I don't think it's only a role they assume when they become parents. It must be some gene in hibernation which wakes up when one starts a family. This, this cliché is so real to me now. Maybe because I'm all grown up and have a family of my own (I don't have kids yet but I'm slowly being initiated to it); now, I really--in the full sense of the word--understand.
But it's not only about raisin bread which compelled me to write this entry. My tita is dying and however sad we may be because of this hard fact, I think she has accepted her fate and is slowly letting go. She was diagnosed with liver cirrhosis last week and from then, was a rapid loss of sparks of smiles. She has lost the will to live, so my parents and relatives say. They say she's sad and this probably is an understatement--who wouldn't be anyway? I haven't visited her yet. I don't know what she's really going through right now. Has she surrendered hope?
But it's not only about raisin bread which compelled me to write this entry. My tita is dying and however sad we may be because of this hard fact, I think she has accepted her fate and is slowly letting go. She was diagnosed with liver cirrhosis last week and from then, was a rapid loss of sparks of smiles. She has lost the will to live, so my parents and relatives say. They say she's sad and this probably is an understatement--who wouldn't be anyway? I haven't visited her yet. I don't know what she's really going through right now. Has she surrendered hope?
I feel her pain though. I somehow understand why she wouldn't want to be treated in the hospital anymore. She says it's a waste of money and her family is just being burdened by her. Further, she says, she herself is having a hard time living in the state she's in. Without actually saying it, she'd rather die. The family thinks she has given up, on the contrary, I think she has accepted the fact and is moving on. I believe that that gene is working again--a parent can suffer because of failing health but cannot stand seeing her loved ones suffer because of her. She'd rather get in the next ferry only to spare her loved ones from worrying about her or belaboring care for her. Though it may pain us to see her go (I don't want her to go. Nobody wants to see her go!), it is the final act of a loving mother to her family. There's no stopping this parent. She [Love] stares death in the eye, with no qualms, with no regrets. And we squirm and protest in her taking her final vow because it scares us, it pains us, because we will miss her. This surrender is her greatest victory--and so sorry (for ourselves) we cannot be with her wherever she will go.
R.E.M is right: everybody hurts. In giving, one hurts; in receiving, one likewise hurts. How cruel can this world be? I wonder how one heart can store all these in her (and one world not break because of so much lesions)? So much pain, so many tears yet, they say, these precisely make this life beautiful (I say, still painful with nothing to soothe us).
My Litany of Woes. A student at 19 suffers a miscarriage. A priest-friend's mom died. A friend's mom is battling a stage four lung cancer. A friend broke ties with her foster parent. A student fails the oral exam. Another student wasn't able to submit his paper. A guard pities himself for being disregarded. A thirty-three year old friend cannot come out. A priest-friend is detained in jail facing a libel case. An abandoned wife wants to divorce her husband. A baby always sick. A wife suspects her husband cheating on her. A lover left by his girl friend for a study leave. A non-committal girl left by her ideal man for another. A romantic waiting for her right one. A man choosing one girl over another. A family alone in another land. A man in front of his computer crying. Alone. Heart. Hurt.
Plugged into: Ingrid Michaelson's "Keep Breathing"
Posted by meetjopeblack at 09:40 PM | mix me my whey
