The Fat Drowning Moron

It's funny that some people approach me and say, "You look healthy and well for someone with so many problems". By healthy, I would assume that was a nicer way to say that I have gained some weight. Yes, I do know. My husband even plays with my flabby tummy and I like that every night before he goes to sleep, he reaches under the covers for.. yes.. my tummy (what were you thinking?? haha) 

Had it been said before these things, I would have been insulted. Being the reactive person that I am, I would have said, "Are you saying that I should look thin, gauntly and ugly just because I have problems?" I am happy to say that things like this do not concern me as much. One of the things that has benefited me from all of this is that I have gained a clearer perspective on things. I do not react as much as I do, I listen more, I feel more and I empathize more. Little things do not get the best of me and I always remind myself what is  more important and what needs my attention more.

 My main goal right now is to stay as healthy as possible, even if that would add up to a few pounds. So, I'm stocking up with a lot of vitamins, eat as much healthy food as I can and be healthy for Lito. That would be one of my greatest gifts. It would be such an added burden for me to be sick as well. I am happy that on top of a few pounds, I never had a case of hypertension ever since Lito's diagnosis. And thank God, I have never been as healthy as I am at this time. So, yeah, I could live with the few extra pounds. 

It might be awkward for some to see me laughing my heart out over something and just be happy amidst suffering. Sometimes, I surprise myself with these affirmations of happiness. We are so accustomed to associate suffering with sadness. I say, it’s okay to be happy even in suffering. I dare say, be happy even, and most especially, in suffering.

It is only in seeing a clearer perspective that we can be happy in anything. It is so easy to be happy when everything goes well. What’s the challenge in that? But when things you love are stripped out of your hands, the challenge starts. And the challenge will never be done with success if you do it alone.

I have learned that only through allowing our Lord Friend up above to work in our lives that we find peace and happiness even amidst the storms. Without Him, our perspective is one-way: we only see the negative side. We tend to question, “Why? Why? Why?” And we end up confused. Angry. Lost.

I would like to see our Lord Friend as a buoy just floating nearby in the midst of the storms. If we do not reach out our hands for Him to help us gain perspective, we’d be like a drowning (insert: fat, haha) moron flapping our hands to stay afloat when there is just help nearby. We just have to learn to let go and let God.

There are times that the storms and thought of the past storms still scare me. There are times that I drown myself in misery and just cry myself at times. But so many times that I thought I have drowned, I have always been saved.  For in our challenges, there may be a lot of things to cry and be sad about. But then, there are more things to be happy about.

Like my Lito in remission, like being so in love it feels like we are still starting to date, like having new friends, like being able to inspire others, like being able to appreciate being alive, having a family, having the opportunity to have a child (even for 18days), like letting go of small stuff, like having food to eat on the table. There are still so many, many things to be thankful for that when we do our nightly prayers, we just smile and go to bed happy, thanking God of the blessings, instead of asking why bad things happen. 

We go to bed happy, we wake up happy. It's a cycle that makes everything else in between bearable.

To end, I was blogwalking and I saw this video of a very inspiring couple. Our Lord Friend has some amazing ways to put things back in perspective. This is so heartwarming and I encourage you to spend a few minutes of your time to watch this. I also ask that you pray for Ian and Larissa Murphy, people I don't know, but somehow, have touched my heart...

Had the roles been reversed, I know he would have never left me-- Larissa Murphy

Facing the A-hole called Grief

Grief is a horrible feeling, and a traitorous one. Today, I get to be surprised again by its intensity. It’s like a lurking burglar, hoping to catch you off guard and just when you thought you’re safe and secure, it sneaks up on you and drains out all your saved-up energy and strength.

I am busy trying to process our denied Philhealth claims during Levi’s confinement and death last November. It is filed late because of the series of storms we have to undergo even after his death. I am praying that Philhealth will consider our appeal of late filing.  Well, anyway, I have to prepare a lot of documents and go sort out through old files, receipts, etc. One of the requirements is of course, my baby’s death certificate. I had our company driver pick it up at the funeral home.

Levi's birth diploma

When I got home from a meeting, I found it on top of my table, inside a folder. I took one glance and I saw the words—Certificate of Death. And it bore his name. There are stamps, and official-looking signatures on one long sheet of paper. It was just a lone paper. Useless to some. But it had the power to tear my heart open, that one that I tried to sew shut. And it made my knees weak, and my heart starting to pump a bit faster, while my eyes were about to well up with tears. I shook them away and tried to breathe deeper and went on with filing papers.

And then I found his birth diploma. Another slap in the face. I’m sure new mothers are aware what this document is. It must be a very good addition to collages as it bears imprints of the baby’s footprints once born. But to us whose babies didn’t survive, this is just putting thorns in wounds we thought have healed. It’s not meant to be that way. I just couldn’t find the humor in the situation.

Levi's left footprint

So as I said, grief is a very horrible feeling. I saw Levi’s footprints and I traced it with my fingers. These are the only remnants of what he was. He was alive when these prints were made. My heart broke into pieces again and it’s just cruel, you know. That grief that I thought was gone? The same grief that some people would carelessly advice to say, “Let go”. As if it’s that easy. As if it’s that simple. As if.

 And do you know what else grief does? It makes you impulsive. Lito and I just had a misunderstanding about me getting an English bulldog. He doesn’t want one in the house and I was like pushing him for us to get one. He said we don’t have time and he doesn’t want to waste money on dogs and actually taking care of it. Our debate got intense with him asking me what is up with the dog? Why a dog? Why not a toy or something that could be profitable? Why a dog? And I blurted out—Because I don’t have a child!

Snickers- the "displacement" dog

It gave us both a pause. And some thinking.  The dog issue was forgotten but the depths of the truth I just uttered seethes in. I guess in the depths of grief and in the depths of sadness, one just cannot think straight. And when one cannot think straight, when one doesn’t analyze too much—the truth comes out.

So, anyway, I apologize if this is such a forlorn thing to read. Nor it might ignite inspiration and stuff. But I guess, with the onslaught of one storm after the other, I never had the opportunity to grieve. I wasn’t able to face grief in the eye and say, “Back off!” I never did. I was busy trying to hold things together and trying to be strong.

Mother’s Day is coming. So, for now I’m leaving you with some thoughts. Hug your mom and thank them. No matter how awful your relationship is. No matter how different you two are. They may not show you the love you want them to give to you as they are not perfect, they too make mistakes, they too get confused.

I am giving you this challenge because it makes me wonder if I would ever be greeted along with others. I guess I should be. Because I guess I know how it is to be a mother. I was, and I am—from the time I thanked God with the double lines, to the scathing pain I feel up to now of his loss. Mothers grieve differently. They never forget the hurt. They never stop caring. They never stop loving. Yours is an opportunity that so many people like me long to have. Because all I want right now is to get a hug from my child this Mothers’ Day. Sadly, that cannot happen anymore. 

Anyway, in life, there are times that are high and times that are low. This must be one of my lowest. For now, my dear friends, I'm going to bed, cover myself with blanket, cry and succumb to being hurt. I want to be weak, just for this time. It got a bit overdue, but it's time that I get to face this a-hole feeling that we call grief, hopefully, once and for all. 

Scratching off the Labels

I remember overhearing an argument between two people and for the lack of physical bravado, I bet, they are using power trips in place of arms:

“Don’t you know I am the nephew of the former mayor of ____?”

“ Oh yeah, I will call my Ninong who’s the congressman of _____.”

“Well, I’ll see you in court! I know a very good lawyer who’s gonna wipe you out!”

“Huh!? Pray that the judge won’t be our neighbor!”

Okay, okay. So that’s really exaggerating it. But to me, it felt like that. My last job as an employee was at a hotel and believe me, I have witnessed a lot of ass-kissing, name dropping and all that stuff. It frustrates me, really. It’s like branding yourself to someone. It’s like power given to a parasite on top of whale.

So, what is up, really, to these labels?

my last nameplate

Well, there’s a certain ring to our egos when labels are concerned. At work, I was very careful when it comes to designations and putting it in someone’s nameplate. I, for one, was very proud when I got hold of my nameplates. I started out as an HR Officer, then rose to HR Assistant Manager, then finally to Standardizations Manager. It was recognition beyond anything I could dream of. I was so proud of those nameplates. And when I finally resigned last November to focus on my family (I was pregnant then), it took me a lot of courage to let go of my nameplate. It bore a lot of meaning to me. It spoke of years of hard work, stress, a lot of adversities, and all those corporate stuff. In the end, I took it with me and I just told them to deduct the amount from my final pay.

So, upon resignation, I felt like I lost a very big part of me. It’s like I was stripped of my label. The resignation was abrupt also, and quiet because it was doctor-recommended. I wasn’t able to say goodbye properly to my friends. Most of them didn’t know I was leaving. They thought I was on indefinite leave. One time, I was window-shopping at the mall and a former colleague of mine from another company saw me. She said, “Miss! Kumusta?? Asa na man diay ka ron??” (Miss, how are you? Where are you now?) And I wasn’t able to answer straight. I just said, “Housewife, taking care of my husband”.  And she said, “Good for you”. The reply I got from her felt robotic from my end. It didn’t feel good.  I’m sure she didn’t mean anything from it but I felt like a nagging subconscious was telling me I was on top of the ladder and then bam, I am now just a housewife. Stripped of my corporate name, stripped of my job title, I felt like I was nothing. I cried in the CR of the mall, alone and awfully bitter.

I didn’t want to succumb to that feeling and let it overpower me so I just kept it to myself and tried not to mind it. But it’s still there, like a heavy lump in my chest. Not until I had this casual phone conversation with my Mom, one of the many things that we do. She just said, “Day, blessed kaayo si Lito nimo noh.. Dili tanan babaye igive up ilang career para sa pamilya, ug para sa ilang bana.. Ang uban ana, walay paki.. Pero ikaw, imo gigive up tanan..Proud kaayo mi nimo” (Lito is blessed to have you. Not all wives give up their careers for their family or for their husband. Others do not care. But you gave it up. And we are very proud of you). I said a meek thank you and told her I had to put down the phone as I need to do something. And that something that I need to was, well, crying as I digest her words. I hid in the CR again and cried my heart out. My mom, who always says I owe my brains to my dad, doesn’t know that I owe my heart to her. Her wisdom is beyond words and again, she has helped me see things in a clearer point of view. I could never be more grateful for that big heart of hers.

I realized that labels are just that. Labels. Written in nameplates or thrown carelessly when name dropping and ego tripping is at hand. It can wear out, it can be forgotten. It doesn’t define us.  It is such a sad life to define one’s self and one’s worth in a brass template.

Labels define how we want to be recognized.

Well, I don’t want to be recognized.

I want to be remembered.

So, how do I want to be remembered, then?

I thought about this and I realized I don’t want to be remembered through my position titles. I don’t want to be remembered as that “manager or department head or something, I forgot who she was!” I want to be remembered as “Ara-HR” the one who added to her job description her daily rounds to all departments, not to scrutinize, but to talk to them and really see how their day was going; “Miss Ara” to the owners, heads, and those who’d like to call me that—the one who went out of her duties to market the true marketable asset, our employees, through the first ever Hotel Station ID’s. I would like to be remembered as “gat”, the one who feels like she was one of the Sales team when she was just an adopted one, “Richard” to Clare, “Ex” to Chef Armand A., “Miss A” to Barbie and Ervina,  “lamoy”, “poy” to Charlie, “classmate” to my OJTs, “classP” to Ian, “eww” to JB, “Mysis” to Vianney, “Mommy” to my HR girls, "Mother" to naknak Anna and Prince, extended anak to my 2 Mommy Annabelle’s, Chefie’s “palangga”, Jaybee’s “Ara Mina”, Kuya Joward’s “Ara Girl”. You see, those endearments or even name phrases are way better than name dropping or nameplate etching. For it defines not just my work, but how I work and how I value my work and the people that surrounds it. And wherever I may be, wherever those people are, whatever I may become in the future, I will always be that to them, someone who, once in their lifetime, has become a part of their lives. As they are to mine. 

In my personal life, I could make peace with having no labels and not being recognized. I just want to be remembered not just as a plain housewife, but as a strong partner and wife who was there for her husband in sickness and in health, a good sister who helped the family, a good daughter who treats her Mom like her best friend, and her dad as the best man in her life still, a good granddaughter worthy of my Mama’s favoritism (ahem ahem), a friend who takes no bullshit and who values real friends, someone who held on to hope and faith, and someone who makes her dreams come true, by making a career out of writing.

In our final call, I’m sure our Lord Friend wouldn’t ask for our job titles.

And with that, I wanna say, hey, I don’t have a name or any position etched somewhere but I do believe I remain in the hearts of those who I believe whose lives I have touched along the way.

And you could never put a label into that.

****

 Snippets of my life in my last job: 

Chefie Armand, Mommy Pearl, Imelda, Ate GM, me and Kuya Joward

me and my most fave Exec Chef in the world, Chef Armand!

me with Chada Dagway during the Hotel Station ID shoot. murag korek noh?

crazy fun during an outreach activity with Ervina, Imelda and Krizzy

fooling around with my "classmates"

me and my best est est est gat... Emyat!

my closest friends-- Mysis Vianney and Eww JB

me and my Ate Sharon, Imelda!

the original Igats of the Sales team (absent: Joanna and Emyat)

my gurlies, yes including those 3 who look like guys

partying with my old colleagues

F&B ProductioN!

HR and OJTs

with Diego Salvador, Melther and Marky Mark

with the ever dynamic Housekeeping team!

Hotel Station ID, the 2nd one

full credits and bloopers

P.S. To all my ex-hotel friends who remained my friends, resigned or not, from Front Office to HR to Housekeeping to F&B Production, Service, Engineering, Finance, IT,  Sales, Security, Marketing and Executive Office: this is my long overdue goodbye. My 4-years there did not go to waste as I was able to meet you and have you in my life. I will forever treasure the memories, I'm sure there will be more.  I miss you all.  Salamat sa tanan. 

Happy Lumpianivesary!

In contrast to Lito’s overwhelming skill of surprising me, I suck at surprises.

So many times have I tried to surprise him but ended up failing at it because he notices the little stuff and he would say, “Yeah, I know you’d do that”. So much about bursting my bubble. I suck real bad at surprises that I did not attempt to make surprises anymore. I usually ask him what he wants, when he wants it and how we are going to split the cost  (90% on my expense, 10% his expense or whatever).  And mind you, it is so hard to give a gift to someone who’s so particular in every tiny detail. It’s so much better to tell him ahead, especially if we talk about gadgets (ooh, you should have told me! I would have ordered ahead.. grrr!)

Anyway, on our third anniversary, I tried an attempt again at the surprise thing.

I bought a cake for him. I was juggling between Tiramisu and Sugar Free Cheesecake but ended up with Moist Choco from Leona’s. I had the words “Happy 3^rd Birthday to us, my wab! I wab you” scribbled on the cake. I also thought of buying him something, maybe a cellphone that would end his complaints of a very slow phone with an Android OS.

Instead, life surprised us with thrombocytopenia. Nosebleed? Yeah, me too. Let me explain though.

simple back scratches turn to bruises during low platelet counts.
When his counts dived, more of this scattered at his back. 

small red dots on his arm, that black bruise was after a CBC

these red spots travel all the way from his ankles to his legs

On Lito’s first consolidation chemo cycle, it is expected that platelets will dive. Thus, even when we were at home, we would always monitor him through home CBCs conducted by our good medical technician friend, Norman of LH Prime. His last CBC count on the 24^th, a day prior to our anniversary, was 51,000 per micro liter. Normal platelet count should be 150,000 to 450,000. Our doctor said that if counts would go below 50,000, we should have him admitted to the hospital.

At night, we noticed red spots/bruises all over his arms, legs and back and some on his lips. More like, dotted lines, like those that you get when you have dengue fever symptoms. Our med tech said that this is a symptom of thrombocytopenia or low platelet counts. Very low counts would result to difficult clotting processes (Lito should not bleed in any way or else he would be hemorrhaging). Very very low platelet counts will tend to make the capillaries burst causing gum bleeds, nosebleeds and worst, loss of blood due to severe hemorrhage. 

If there is one thing I could advise those whose loved ones have blood problems, please do not look at the internet prior to sleeping. It will worry you more and worrying wouldn’t help. This was what happened to me on the dawn of our anniversary. I was awake and my neurosis kicked in with my insomnia. I was awake staring at his nose and mouth for any signs of bleeding just because I looked at the internet for worst case scenarios.

On our anniversary, his platelet counts are at 29,000 per micro liter and white blood cells are at 0.4 (high risk of infection). So, without sleep, I packed and made reservations at the hospital, blood bank and called donors for transfusion and Lito’s admission. Later that night, his platelets dropped to 6000, the lowest ever, and I saw his gums starting to bleed. Good thing our ready donor was able to offer his platelets and my Lito’s counts increased to a considerable panic-free average. I spent most of our anniversary running back and forth from the room to the blood bank, panicking, assuring myself, texting my AML bantay buddies, checking Lito’s condition, attending to our donors, answering to friends and relatives concerned about Lito--in short, my day was a riot of a whirlwind. 

Orange brutus lumpia  on our anniv lunch

It was then that we had a late lunch of lumpia and burger steak, eggs, veggies spread over the hospital bed. We were eating it in silence and Lito just held my hand and said, “Paree.. it's our anniversary. Happy Birthday to us.. Thank you for taking care of me ha.. I love you”.  I looked at the setting—no candle lights, no surprises, no gifts, no flowers nor flair but he still puts my heart at a pause with the sincerity of his words and the attacks his surprises of love would give me. It was just us, in the whole essence of marriage—being there for each other as friends, partners, taking care of each other, and loving each other more. As usual, I had that pitter-patter in my heart and my tears welled up. And I just squeezed back his hand and said I love him, too and indeed, it still is a happy anniversary because we are still together. And being in the hospital together means God is giving us the opportunity for Lito to be  healed soon which would bring us more years together.  

dinner was a diff thing. Papa & Mama
gave us Ching Palace treats, Ivy bought us cake,
Jayson & Aisee bought Pinoy food faves
(monggos, kangkong, kaldereta).

I told him I had cake at home and he said he figured it out already, I must have blurted it out in a stance or something. Hayy.

You see, I do suck at surprises. Still. And I may never be good at it.

But one thing I have learned during this one of a kind anniversary is that—I may suck at surprises but with Lito, I never suck at the surprises that life gives us. Preparing for a perfect life or a perfect surprise may falter but your attitude on life’s rebounds and surprises—well, I guess that’s what’s more important.  

In an attempt to sound philosophical, here's my take, "If you are planning for cake and life gives you lumpia, well,  eat it!"

In other words, I bought cake. Life gave me lumpia. Life is good, there is still something on the table even if it's not what we planned in the first place. Might as well eat what's there and be thankful of the blessings and surprises that life gives. 

Re-Written

Our 3rd anniversary is different from the first 2. There will be no parties, no candle light dinners, no flowers, or fancy gifts. This year, we celebrate the miracle and blessing that is called life-- and how we were able to face it together, with our faith intact and our love and friendship much stronger.. 

Apr 25, 2009

My dearest paree/wab/crazy/realest/craziest/daddy/mywab, it was only 3 years ago that we first pledged our commitment to one another. Only 3 years. A small length of time for some but significant all the same, as we have gone through so much in those three years, maybe more than other couples could in their lifetime. I can close my eyes and remember walking down that aisle, shaking and in tears as I vowed to love you through it all. And indeed, we have been through a lot together that thinking about them makes me sigh and wonder how we were able to make it through.

Our tragedies make our love stronger

The series of tragedies have seriously shaken us to the core. But I would like to believe that tragedies, like any other things given, are still blessings. In them, we have both learned to be brave. No, not the Joan of Arc bravery but that bravery that a calm and still heart can offer, that strength that you get when you fall down on your knees and submit all your trust and hopes in a Supreme Being. The kind of bravery that makes you swear to never give up, no matter how dire the circumstances will be. That kind of strength that will make you fight for dear life, ask for help and just fight for something, something that makes you feel alive, because being alive means that I get to spend time with you. It means that there is someone worth fighting for.

These tragedies have made us appreciate the fact that when everything else is gone, or when those things that made it so before will be gone, we hold on to the one thing that would tide us through it all. I would like to believe that one thing is called love. And with our so-called tragedies, we hold on to each other. We hold on to love, as if it’s our only means of survival. So, there’s no way for us to take that for granted. Others wait their whole lives to have these kinds of opportunity to strengthen them. We got our own miracle through our tragedies in three years. So, you see, even if I could, I wouldn’t wish for things in the past to be different.

strangers running for Lito. isn't that a mark of a wonderful
person? Thanks Nikki Hordista and all the other ninjas
who never fail to pray and support my wab in their own way

I don't know if I told you but to me, you are such a wonderful person and you just don’t know how you bring joy and meaning to other people’s lives just by being you. I can’t help but feel overwhelmed seeing that so many people love you, from family, relatives, friends—close, acquaintances, and even strangers. I find their love and support for you amazing beyond words. Some people are not that blessed, pree. And maybe you are that blessed, because you have been such a blessing to them. I wished I never under-appreciated you in the past years because these things that people do to you, remind me that all along, I have been married to a very wonderful person. Your random acts of kindness still take me by surprise because you do it so casually and so simply and I wished more people could see that. And I couldn’t ask for more than that. I know Levi (we love you baby), would have taken after you in that aspect.

Pree, I may not be the perfect wife. Sometimes, I let my pride, insensitivity and ego hurt you, intentionally or unintentionally. Thank you for loving me, despite me. I promise to be more understanding and more patient with your needs as the years go by.

It’s a beautiful thing to be in love every day. Thank you for never failing to make me feel that way for three years, five years before that, and a whole lot of years more, God willing. Not everyone has that kind of blessing. I will be forever grateful of you.

I would like to thank you as well for you faith in me, for trusting me to be the best that I can be, wherever I am, whatever I do. Thank you for always reminding me to move on, for being my source of strength when I feel low, for wiping my tears, for the vote of confidence when I doubt myself, for saying that my bilbil (love handles) are cute, for making me smile and laugh, even when you are weak to do so. Thank you for never making me feel unworthy of your love for me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for fighting for me.

So today, on our 3^rd wedding anniversary, in front of our stuffed babies and whoever will be reading this, I would like to renew our vows and again pledge my life to you.

I promise to remain faithful to our marriage, even if John Lloyd Cruz would stand in our way (or those 10 others on my list! Haha), even when the “romance” is gone. I promise to hold your hand, frail or smooth, and wait for that time when we become too old and wrinkly, taking turns to put menthol balms at our sore spots, still watching reruns of FRIENDS, or checking from time to time our social media accounts, talking about the days’ events and other people (yeah we do gossip, admit it! Haha). I promise to love you, even if God won’t allow us to have more kids (Levi will always be our eldest), I am so used to treating you like a kid anyway (lol). But if God would bless us with child/ren, I promise to be a good mother and let them listen to the music of the 80’s and 90s, and let them watch cartoons of our time.

I promise to be there for you, in reverse isolation or in good blood counts, with hair or without. Whether you feel fat, ugly, losing muscles, pale, bald, weak, I will always think that you are perfect—perfect for me. I promise to still be your best friend and your number one cheerleader and to hold your hand and be there for you when your blood counts and platelets start to dive. I will make you laugh, even if I sound so lame and corny. I promise to work at our love and uplift you because together, we can accomplish more than we could do alone.

I promise to be strong when you are weak, to never give up when you feel like you can’t stand it, I promise to pray our prayers our way and thank God for our angels up there. I promise to be your best friend, your ally, your confidante, your rock. You have always said that you will protect and provide for me. When the tables are turned, I promise that I will be strong enough to protect you and if need be, to provide for you. I promise that whatever path and tragedies this life may take us, I will love you, until death parts us.

Because it may have been three years; you may have cancer, on remission but not cured yet; we may have lost our Levi; but when asked again, if I do take you as my lawfully wedded husband, all I could say is: I STILL DO, always and forever. 

Happy Anniversary, my wab! I love you so so much. 

Martina McBride's I'm Gonna Love you Through It, is a song that is so close to my heart.. I hope you could listen to the song. :) 

Sagbot

I may appear like them
And I try to be green
But somehow, I have never fit in
I try to outgrow and try to stand tall
but I just don't blend in, through it all


They wondered how I can still exist
even if they tried their best
to cut me open
trim me to pieces
take me away
throw me out
and spit on me


But this little mess seems
to always find a way
to claw back to this earth
and try to survive
They may not like it
but this weed always comes back
in little pieces, torn but trying to be complete
ugly, but trying to fit in
dying, but trying to survive
useless to some, but trying to find meaning


It looks around,  sighs and thinks
Yes, it may look lame but
the sun shines the same
for me and for you
we bathe with the same dew


For in the end it's true
I may not be like you
I may not be green
I may not fit in
and maybe, I could never blend in
and yes, I know it sounds lame
but come to think of it
in the end...
we all die the same...

No Umbrellas

I have always loved the rain and you won't see me carry an umbrella.

For one, umbrellas are added weight. Weather here is unpredictable and I hate not knowing when I can use it. Umbrellas cannot stop the rain, it protects you from the rain. But I love the rain so much, most of the time, I don't want to protect myself. 

When it rains, I tend to walk slower, and just let the rain seep in. Well, if it's raining and you run, you get wet anyway. So, might as well enjoy the rain!

Without rain, nothing will grow. 

If nothing will grow, life stops. Life is stagnant. It is but just a static disdain. 

Same goes with life, I guess. 

You say, if it rains, it pours. 

Then maybe, we should try to stop from running or stop from holding on to our umbrellas and just appreciate those little drops. Take a look around at how it benefits you in the end. It may ruin your clothes or whatever but those are just temporary. Life all around is blooming because of those drops. 

And now that life has given us storms and hurricanes, I am proud to claim that Lito and I are growing leaps and bounds. I can see it in the way we see things, in the way we view people, in our perspectives, in the way we take care of each other, in the things we appreciate, in the things we ask, in the things we thank for, in the way we pray... 

It was and still is a stormy ride, but we thank God for the storms. And with these storms, we choose to let go of our umbrellas (protection of our fears, insecurities, anger, negativities). We choose to dance in the rain, and we choose to grow. 

Turning the Volume Down

Prior and within Holy Week, I was overwhelmed and anxious with the upcoming biopsy results of Lito. You see, this would determine further treatment. If his results turned out bad, it would mean we have very slim options as he has no stem cell donor match. Worse is that, our doctor couldn't give us a word yet as our tests fell prior to Holy Week so results would be delayed because of the holidays. Every day of waiting was torture. I prayed so hard. Lito and I prayed every night. I then decided to be on hiatus.

Hiatus means taking a break.
I would like to redefine that personally as turning the volume down.

I am the type of person who drowns myself in music when things go awry. Most of my friends see me at a corner with my earphones in full volume, without a care in the world.

Music heals, they say.
However, silence also heals.

When the volume of the world is too loud, it helps to turn the volume down and just listen to what your heart has to say. I literally turned the volume of my music one day while I was in the bathroom and I just laid down on the floor and listened to the silence. It was weird at first but I tried to really concentrate and just let myself relax. I heard the tree branches and leaves scraping our windows from outside, I heard the wind, I heard the rain, I heard the water drops of the broken faucet. I heard my heart beating. There was no light from angels telling me about a message from God or all of those prophetic things they say when you are in deep total silence. I just felt calm and peace.

I remembered watching  Passion of the Christ on Good Friday, well the first part of it. I couldn't go through the further parts. And there was this scene in the garden where Jesus pleaded with His father with tears in His eyes to save Him from what would lay ahead. There was no answer. And He just said, "Thy will be done". It was the very first time that I truly understood its whole essence of the words. I was about to cry in the first part of the movie.

 And somehow, lying on that bathroom floor with the music down,  that scene stuck in my head and heart and I felt to just let my anxiety and my fears go. My heart was telling me to just trust in Him, everything will be all right. So, I prayed like Jesus, "Lord, you know what our hearts want and need. But Thy will be done...."

I also gave God His hiatus. I don't know. I tried not to ask too much (tried to lower the volume down for Him), I instead thanked Him a lot for all the blessings He gave us. I even thanked Him for this very humbling experience. It has taught us a lot. There are so many things to be thankful for in this life and somehow, I tried bombarding Him with my appreciation and gratitude.

We prayed every day and every night for that miracle. Days went by slowly, I just spent days with Lito, visited my family, catching up with my series, did Visita Iglesia and went to churches, had Easter Sunday with both families. The next day, I was texting Dr. Nanan Cabahug on the outcome of the results. She replied that it was hard for her to contact the pathology department because that Monday was a holiday as well. Late in the afternoon, she texted me... "Ar, AML in remission... :)"

It was the best news ever. It has been almost 4 months since we started this battle, almost 6 months before we lost our Levi. During that period of time, I was so used to hearing bad news, I have created myself an emotional armor to prepare myself for further bad news. I did not prepare for this, though-- receiving the best news ever since our series of mishaps. It was overwhelming and so relieving at the same time. I just read her text again and again and again before I went to Lito who was in the other room with his brothers, and tell him the good news. I told him and I just cried on his shoulders. We were so happy.

In the midst of all turmoils, it pays to tone it down a little and not listen to all the noise. Instead, listen to that voice inside you. It is guidance. It is pure guidance. And somehow, when we say, "Thy will be done...", it is entrusting and full submission to His path for us. The road may be long and wide, but it always leads us to where we belong. We sometimes insist on our own ways, on our demands at our own time, we didn't know God has better plans for us. It is only in submission to His direction, in letting go of our own ways, that we are led to the right path.

Thank you, Lord Friend, thank you so very much.... I will never turn the volume down when it comes to our gratitude... Amen, amen.. Thy will be done.

*****

On Lito's Battle:

REMISSION 

is a big word for us. It means that based on the last biopsy results, there are no symptoms and signs that can be identified to indicate the presence of cancer cells. This is the very goal of our first cycle of chemotherapy. However, this was not achieved. We just had partial remission. So we had to do the cycle again. The 2nd cycle gave us what we prayed for-- complete remission! 

Does this mean that Lito is cured already? No.Not yet.  Remission means that the survival rate just tipped to the higher ranges. :) There may still be microscopic stuff left in the marrow that cannot be seen or identified by our current tests. This means that even Lito is in remission, there might be a possibility of a recurrence or what we call a RELAPSE of the cancer. That is not something I am praying for. 

So, what do we do? We do consolidation chemo (at least 3 cycles) of a higher dose of Cytarabine to really kill those cancer cells. Or, we could do allogenous stem cell transplantation which means we harvest from Lito's own now-healthy on-remission stem cells (because he has no donor) and transplant that in due time to his own system. However, this gives us a higher risk of relapse. Both options are still to be discussed with our doctors in Manila and Cebu. 

And most especially, Pray, pray and pray harder. We need that. 

For now, we are very thankful for this miracle. Remission is really a big word for us. 

We just kicked Big C hard in the face. Round 1, we won! Thank you Lord Friend. Thank you ninjas. :) 

***

Oh by the way, I am slowly back from my own hiatus... :) I miss you, guys!

Sweetest Downfall

The History books forgot about us, and the Bible didn’t mention us. Not even once. You are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first.

Regina Spektor’s Samson always brings me a nostalgic grip in the heart.

It has with it a melancholic melody, a set of deep lyrics full of hidden meanings and a truckload of memories for me.

Carl and me advertising Popoy's. hehe

What was the occasion, then? I couldn’t remember. All I remember is that we were all together, we had to drive back and forth twice from the house to the beach house because we didn’t have a big car. When others would have grumbled with this task, I remember that we were happy just because this is a rare opportunity for all of us to be out.

You were excited, we brought lots of food and you grilled barbecue. There were lots of people at the beach, I remember you laughing as you commented on each distinctive one. You were so good at the details, describing and comparing them to comic stars and stuff. I remember that rich, boisterous laughter you have—that sarcastic guffaw that would erupt into peals of laughter. Whatever mood I’m in, when I hear you laugh, I can’t help but laugh back.

Carl with Sharon, AG and me at Easter-filled Hadsan

I remember you smiling, especially when you see Daddy and Mommy happy, or when you talk about your efforts to make the environment a little cleaner, or when you talk about a good song or a good movie. You also smile when we make plans of meeting up, or when a memory would hit you, most especially about the craziness of my big brother.

I remember you smothering your body and your face with sunblock cream as you went boating with Jingjing and the rest of the boys. I didn’t know why I didn’t go. I would have, if I could turn back time. I was envious when you went back, with all your stories to tell, and I cannot relate because I didn’t go.

It was one heck of a day.

Sen and Carl-- best friends since high school
circa 1991

We went back to the house, the second batch. We were so full in the car and we had to laugh at the hilarity of the situation. We were belting out E-heads songs with the radio up. And then you nudged me and said, have you heard of this song? And you were mouthing the lyrics to Samson. From then on, every time I hear this song, you always pop in my head.

And now that I've thought about it, that was the last time we all went out together as a family at the beach. That was five years ago. It was also the last time that we all got to be with you.

"We are the Carol kings and we'd love to say We smoke!" haha

We talked about people passing away, about people getting killed and about eternal life when we go through it. We talked about this when we had our failed drinking sessions (failed because you go red after one glass). But not once did we ever talked about you going away first. I remember being so stunned when Mommy woke me up at dawn telling me that you were gone. Up to this very moment, I can rel-live and remember the pain, that pang in the heart, the disbelief, the plea for bargain with God (as if there’s something we can do), the tears.  Up to this very moment, I guess, I have never allowed myself to accept the fact that you really are gone.

It has been five years since you’ve been gone. Time heals broken hearts, they say. Perhaps. But for those whose hearts are broken by the departure of people who have never hurt them, who never did them wrong and who only brings light to every day and every situation, the broken hearts try to mend but time is not enough to do so. I know this because even after five years, you are missed—greatly, deeply and painfully. You are taken from us abruptly, there wasn’t enough time to say goodbye properly, or give you the proper embrace or hug that you so deserve. It just isn’t right.

I wonder what would it be if you were here now.

You would gladly reach out a helping hand

I would have an instant shoulder to cry on any time and anywhere. One text, and you would go straight to where I am. You would have been happy with the many additional “tribal” babies in the “Kabilang Building” group—Gian, Lara, Jacob, Tyty, Steph, Mary and Elijah (in the next few months). You would have made lots of statements with some things. You would have been one of Nanie’s best men or Lito’s, or AG’s. You would have made sure we never listen to Bieber songs and go full blast with Eheads instead.

You would have been very happy with Arjo’s chess prodigy. You would have been with Mommy, Nanie and I as we witnessed Malyn and Arje graduating. You would have shared the pride and happiness. You would have been in every birthday, holiday, special occasion—good or bad. You would have complete social media widgets and apps-- from Twitter to Facebook to Path, and you would beat me in Scramble with Friends and smash me with your drawings at Draw Something.

I would have loved to let you meet my new friends, how I wished they would have known you and they would understand why I feel so blessed to have you in our lives. You would have watched dozens of movies with us, go to concerts, try new restaurants and frown at the thought of Anne Curtis doing a world tour.  And.. come to think of it,  you would have been the first one to know exactly how I was feeling with everything that’s happening, even without saying a word.

one New Year night when everyone was complete, invaded Cebu streets
after belting Karaoke songs

Would have. Could have. Should have. Aren’t those the saddest words?

There are so many I could mention but then, they could never bring you back.

Here’s another one:

Today, you would have been 34. I could imagine you saying, “So what, if I’m 34??” I could imagine you doing something adventurous, something new—maybe ziplining in Ozamis or go mountain trekking. Who knows? You are that unpredictable. But one thing’s for sure—you loved life. And you made sure that the people who love you are happy and loved as well.

Argh. All I’m saying is, things could have been way way different and so much better with you around. They say there’s a reason for everything and that things will just unravel in due time. Well, for now, it hasn’t. I haven’t seen the reasons yet, except for maybe, sealing a closer bond with us and your family, seeing how strong your Mom (Tita Malou is one of my idols when it comes to being strong amidst adversities) and the rest of your family is. But, other than that… I still can’t see the reasons. Justice hasn't been served as well. So maybe that's one of the reasons why I refuse to accept that you are gone. 

If every day was like this. 

I miss you, Carl. And wherever you might be, I hope you are playing with my Levi, chatting with Tito Jun and Tito Boy and Papa, laughing with us in our moments of happiness, crying with us in our sorrows, looking after us and holding us close when times get rough. For the meantime, I’ll turn my player on, listen to your song and imagine that you are singing this with me.

Oh, I cut his hair one night, a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light..and he told me that i'd done all right and kissed me til the morning light...

 Happy Birthday, Carl. I love you, we love you.

No idea who I'm talking about? Too bad, he's one of the greatest persons ever. However, you might wanna check this link to know more:  Remembering Carl