I would've really loved to write a series of posts about my trip to Las Islas Filipinas, but I reckon that would be way too indulgent, especially coz I'd just whine like there's no tomorrow, as expected from me.
So I thought I might as well dump everything in... observations, whining, bitching, and every random, top of the head inanity I can muster. Let's start, shall we?
***
First things first... Of course there's no homecoming trip without me wishing so bad to splash vats and vats of acid at the management and staff of the airports in Las Islas Filipinas, in particular NAIA Terminal 3, which I used this time around. I don't want to describe in full the inconvenience that passengers like me go through every time I use our airports. I just wish hell is big enough for the people managing and running them.
***
My stay in Las Islas was filled with prayers for the dead. We prayed for nine days during my dad's wake and then more prayers EVERYDAY at the cemetery for about three weeks and then more prayers for nine days leading to the 40th day after his death.
There was this woman Vita who leads the prayers in Cebuano AND Latin, the latter in crisp Cebuano accent. I always wondered how much of the Latin prayers she understood but she could without skipping a beat recite by memory the whole prayer.
There's also a string of litanies that recall the gory death of Christ, such as: Hesus ko tungod sa imong kilid nga nabukas sa tungod sa pagbuno sa imong kilid nga gilugwaan sa dugo ug tubig. And then there's also a set of prayers about the morning star (bituon sa kabuntagon), the gate of heaven (pultahan sa langit), the golden house (balay nga bulawan), the mystical rose (rosa mystica), virgin of virgins (birhen sa tanang birhenes), and so on.
All these are very fascinating to me, and once I got into the rhythm of the repetition they do have a calming effect even if I couldn't make sense of the whole ritual.
***
Speaking of rituals, we did manage to visit the grave of my dad everyday, with flowers and candles in tow (or at least as long as the weather permits us to do so). Obviously, I'm not a spiritual person. I believe we're all matter and we all vanish once we die.
But of course for my family and relatives, visiting my dad at the cemetery is a must, especially coz the prayers were held there. My aunts and mom even talk to my dad's grave. I see this as part of the mourning process for them especially coz it's a ritual that we do together at the same time and must have bearing on sharing the grief with your loved ones.
***
I spent about five weeks in Surigao coz I decided to stay over for Christmas and New Year. I was afraid that the holidays would be hard for my mom and some emotional support might be of value to her. Besides, December 29 was also their wedding anniversary.
Despite the death of my dad, we still managed to celebrate Christmas, New Year, and their wedding anniversary and my sister's birthday (both of which fall on the same day). My mom got through these occasions quite well, I'm happy to report.
***
Like in most cases, I assume, the funeral of my dad became a chance for the relatives to gather. His sisters from Europe came home as well as a dozen other relatives from everywhere. While we were deep in grief, it was nonetheless pleasant to meet again many of my cousins, aunts, and uncles from both sides of the family, many of whom I haven't seen in ages.
I also realized I have quite a number of nieces and nephews already (from my cousins). It's strange to be called tito (uncle) by these little creatures who looked like my cousins when we were much younger. Ewww...
***
I also met a few classmates from high school and university who went home to Surigao for the holidays. It's strange that many of them are married already. Two of my classmates from high school even married each other. And while I was in Surigao one of my high school classmates also got married.
***
Surigao was bloody rainy. I used to terribly miss the weather back home but experiencing how wet it actually is I had to reconsider if it's what I want exactly.
Gosh, did I tell you Surigao is rainy?
On my first week in Surigao I bought my self a mountain bike, which I used to go around the city. For a couple of days the sun came out so I biked to the beach where I got a good sun burn on my back. I love it!
But aside from those two days of sun we mostly had rain and more rain. I did not have any choice but to stay at home and grow a tummy (BTW, did I tell you how much I ate while at home? I swear I'm already obese as I type this).
It rained like crazy on New Year's eve . There were no fireworks. Some parts of the city were flooded. It was two days before I left for Bangkok and I was terribly worried that my flight would be canceled.
***
I had some serious issues when I was in Surigao. I was overwhelmed by the lack of privacy and time for my self. The house is always brimming with people (some relatives, house helpers, relatives of the house helpers, etc.). And then the relatives who came to visit had to be attended to as well, although that was quite minimal. But with the stress of the funeral all these pressure mounted.
I wanted to escape from people once in a while, but I did not have that luxury. So I was mostly annoyed at the constant presence of people around me. I don't understand why they have to be so noisy (everyone's talking at the top of their voice) and nosy (many asked when I'm getting married... WHAT DRUGS ARE THEY ON or they're just simply BLIND???).
Also, I still don't understand why every time I'm in Las Islas Filipinas I always feel like the whole place is bloody crowded and noisy.
In this trip for instance, there's a constant din of random, deafening noise, e.g. tricycles, karaoke machines, Angelus broadcast all over the subdivision, kids singing Christmas carols, crying babies, etc. And because it's Christmas the city was crowded with people doing some serious shopping and beggars roaming around the city plaza, which was decked with gaudy Christmas lights and decors (hello, a snowman made of styrofoam in the middle of rainy Surigao!???).
However, my most serious issue is still the lack of some decent private time and space at home. I would not mind such a set up if I'm just visiting for a week but not for five bloody weeks, chai mai?
On my first week in Surigao I was seriously wishing I could go back to Bangkok already. But obviously I have obligations to my mom. Still it does not stop me from looking at the calendar first thing every morning, counting the days before my flight to Bangkok.
Showing posts with label daddy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daddy. Show all posts
Monday, January 04, 2010
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
The days drag
In my house right now where my dad's wake is. Day 6 of 9. Hay, haggardity ever as we speak. This wake is driving me insane but I'd stop right here coz I don't want to whine.
I'm relieved that my mom is generally OK, or at least that's how she it seems for now. It helps that she can talk about her grief to the endless stream of people coming in and out of the house. However, three days ago, I was sitting beside her in a sofa and she attempted to take a quick nap. Within a minute, she whispered to me that every time she closes her eyes she always recalls how my dad died on the hospital bed.
On another topic, apparently her regular sleep pattern lately (way before my dad died) is that she wakes up at 2:30 am every single time. I think it's common among people her age, no? And so when she wakes up she also finds my dad awake beside her (again, it's an old people thing I assume). So with both of them unable to go back to sleep they have these long talks instead while lying on the bed or sometimes they watch TV together. Yesterday, she told me that in the coming days, without daddy beside her, she would not know what to do when she wakes up early in the morning.
These are two of the things I have to find a way to handle somehow. My sister and brother are going back to Manila and Cebu after the funeral. I would be alone with my mom. I have assumed it to be my responsibility to help her cope with the mourning and I really wish I have a better idea how to do that.
Oh, another thing. A day after my dad died, my mom found a small notebook on my dad's medicine tray. When my mom checked its contents, she found an undated list my dad made (in his squiggly penmanship after his stroke) of his so-called accomplishments and other basic stuff about his life. He mentioned his birth-date, his parents, where he finished school, the date of him passing the BAR and things he considered were the milestones of his life. He also noted his wedding day, my mom's name, and our names (his kids), our degrees, etc. I don't know how to make sense of this list really.
On the next pages, he titled a list "In case of my death". There are about ten items or so. The ones I can remember right now is that he wants us to wear white on his funeral; that his favorite love songs be played the entire time of his wake; and that eulogies be made "reasonably brief". It surprised us of course to find this notebook but I have yet to read it again coz it only makes me cry (even now just thinking about it).
I'm relieved that my mom is generally OK, or at least that's how she it seems for now. It helps that she can talk about her grief to the endless stream of people coming in and out of the house. However, three days ago, I was sitting beside her in a sofa and she attempted to take a quick nap. Within a minute, she whispered to me that every time she closes her eyes she always recalls how my dad died on the hospital bed.
On another topic, apparently her regular sleep pattern lately (way before my dad died) is that she wakes up at 2:30 am every single time. I think it's common among people her age, no? And so when she wakes up she also finds my dad awake beside her (again, it's an old people thing I assume). So with both of them unable to go back to sleep they have these long talks instead while lying on the bed or sometimes they watch TV together. Yesterday, she told me that in the coming days, without daddy beside her, she would not know what to do when she wakes up early in the morning.
These are two of the things I have to find a way to handle somehow. My sister and brother are going back to Manila and Cebu after the funeral. I would be alone with my mom. I have assumed it to be my responsibility to help her cope with the mourning and I really wish I have a better idea how to do that.
Oh, another thing. A day after my dad died, my mom found a small notebook on my dad's medicine tray. When my mom checked its contents, she found an undated list my dad made (in his squiggly penmanship after his stroke) of his so-called accomplishments and other basic stuff about his life. He mentioned his birth-date, his parents, where he finished school, the date of him passing the BAR and things he considered were the milestones of his life. He also noted his wedding day, my mom's name, and our names (his kids), our degrees, etc. I don't know how to make sense of this list really.
On the next pages, he titled a list "In case of my death". There are about ten items or so. The ones I can remember right now is that he wants us to wear white on his funeral; that his favorite love songs be played the entire time of his wake; and that eulogies be made "reasonably brief". It surprised us of course to find this notebook but I have yet to read it again coz it only makes me cry (even now just thinking about it).
Friday, November 27, 2009
Just in case you want to know
The first thing I noticed when I woke up at 5:30 yesterday morning was that the light on the Rama VIII bridge, which I can see from my window, was switched off. As it was still dark outside, it should be lighted up. For some strange reason, I said to my self that something must have happened, not pinpointing specifically what that "something" was.
At 6 a.m. I went down to the first floor to prepare my usual breakfast of muesli and soy milk, which I ate while watching the news on TV. And then I brought the newspapers to my bedroom at around 7 a.m., read a bit, and eventually dozed off. Work is still an hour and a half away.
At 8:30 a.m. I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I picked it up, pretty much half asleep. The screen said "private number". My sister's voice was on the other side of the line. She was sobbing.
"Daddy's gone."
"What?"
"Daddy's gone."
I remember my hands shaking and telling my sister to calm down. I said goodbye and called my mom. She was crying and I could not understand much of what she said. I just remember her saying over and over again that my dad has left us. The best I could tell her at that time was that she calm down and I promised her that I'd call later.
The previous evening, my sister messaged me that my dad had a heart attack. When I talked to my mom, she said that they were in the hospital and that my dad is generally OK but is just a bit weak. This did not worry me much and since he was already sleeping I planned to check on him the following day.
After talking on the phone with my mom yesterday morning, the instinctively I make a list in my head of the things I felt I needed to do right away.
Buy air tickets. (How long do I need to be away?) Wash clothes. (The water pump is broken, so I have to bring my clothes to the laundry shop.) Ask permission from my boss that I will go home. (For how many days?) Get a haircut. Cancel trip to Bali and Java. (Not that I will get a refund, but someone else might need to use my seat in the plane.) Finish the project proposal I was working on. What book shall I bring along? Do I need to bring leather shoes?
The list was quite random, it hardly was coherent, but I had just this compulsion to immediately organize things.
When I told my boss about the death of my father he instantly said that the office will pay for my air tickets. Damn, I could not be more lucky considering how expensive the tickets are at this time of the year. For that I could not be more thankful to my office.
Having the ticket cost covered I had to decide how long I was planning to be away. I thought a couple of weeks would be enough but when I talked to my sister she said I better stay for Christmas and New Year, assuming that my mom would want that. It made sense, after all the holiday mood might in fact make her much lonelier and that the best I could do is be there for her. I opted to stay until after the New Year.
Damn, these air tickets are expensive!
By eleven o'clock I've ran out of things to do. Until then I haven't really given much thought to the death of my dad. I felt there were more immediate things to do and that I can deal with mourning for him later when I'm in Surigao.
Strangely, I had the urge to tell my friends. I SMSed first my BKK friends and then I YMed the Czarina of Penang, who then told some of our blogger friends. The BKK friends called to check on me and soon enough messages from the blogger amigas came in one by one.
Until yesterday, I did not have a very clear idea of how to comfort people who just lost their loved ones. When I received my friends' messages of condolences though I honestly felt less and less lonely.
I wasn't particularly sad but looking at it now I was just completely lonely, that someone left me on my own. I remember asking my self while staring at my computer screen: where is everyone? I don't know what I meant with that question, I was simply yearning for people to acknowledge my loss.
So I wrote that blog post about the death of my father. I suppose I wanted to lessen the desolation I felt by sharing my mourning. I haven't had this kind of feeling before and to tell people about my grief was almost instinctive.
As the day progressed I felt that I needed to inform more of my friends about the death of my father. Not that they can do anything about it, but I figured maybe they should just know. Again, this feeling is really foreign to me, that sense of urgency that my closest friends acknowledge my loss. I swear it's strange.
I initially planned to inform my friends in Davao and Surigao. As I checked my list of people to inform, I kept on adding one name after another. I started with just four names but ended up sending the email to about two dozen people: former colleagues, classmates, etc.
And the email was supposedly just a short notice, instead I just kept on writing, adding nonsensical details about my dad's condition, my plans of going home, and so on. When I reviewed what I wrote it dawned on me that I must've over-done it. I seriously asked my self: why do they need to know all these?
Until now I have yet to find an answer to that question. It just felt good writing what I said and realizing that these people know what I'm going through. Perhaps, I needed to validate my feelings while I was utterly incapable to describe them. Strange. Really strange.
The entire afternoon I had this really, really strong urge to write, write, write. I had many topics floating in my head. Things such as how my father told us bedtime stories, or how he and my mom met, or how he performed magic tricks when we were kids, or about his humor, or how he loved to dance with my mom.
I pulled my self away from my desk instead, scared of the flood of emotions that would engulf me if I wrote about my dad.
In the bus to meet my friends in Silom, I was wishing that I had something to write on while the bus is stuck in traffic. The urge to write was just as strong, it does not really make sense to me. And it's not just writing my thoughts and emotions but also to put it out for others to read. Really strange, no? But I always asked my self: who really needs to know what you think and how you feel? And so I eventually tried to resist the temptation to write.
Until a few minutes ago I have been frantically ticking off the things on my list. I had a haircut and picked up my laundry. I sent some emails to friends. Read blogs. Called my mom. Updated my albums on Facebook.
I finally ran out of excuses not to sit down on my desk and write, hence, this post. Just in case you want to know.
At 6 a.m. I went down to the first floor to prepare my usual breakfast of muesli and soy milk, which I ate while watching the news on TV. And then I brought the newspapers to my bedroom at around 7 a.m., read a bit, and eventually dozed off. Work is still an hour and a half away.At 8:30 a.m. I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I picked it up, pretty much half asleep. The screen said "private number". My sister's voice was on the other side of the line. She was sobbing.
"Daddy's gone."
"What?"
"Daddy's gone."
I remember my hands shaking and telling my sister to calm down. I said goodbye and called my mom. She was crying and I could not understand much of what she said. I just remember her saying over and over again that my dad has left us. The best I could tell her at that time was that she calm down and I promised her that I'd call later.
The previous evening, my sister messaged me that my dad had a heart attack. When I talked to my mom, she said that they were in the hospital and that my dad is generally OK but is just a bit weak. This did not worry me much and since he was already sleeping I planned to check on him the following day.
After talking on the phone with my mom yesterday morning, the instinctively I make a list in my head of the things I felt I needed to do right away.
Buy air tickets. (How long do I need to be away?) Wash clothes. (The water pump is broken, so I have to bring my clothes to the laundry shop.) Ask permission from my boss that I will go home. (For how many days?) Get a haircut. Cancel trip to Bali and Java. (Not that I will get a refund, but someone else might need to use my seat in the plane.) Finish the project proposal I was working on. What book shall I bring along? Do I need to bring leather shoes?
The list was quite random, it hardly was coherent, but I had just this compulsion to immediately organize things.
When I told my boss about the death of my father he instantly said that the office will pay for my air tickets. Damn, I could not be more lucky considering how expensive the tickets are at this time of the year. For that I could not be more thankful to my office.
Having the ticket cost covered I had to decide how long I was planning to be away. I thought a couple of weeks would be enough but when I talked to my sister she said I better stay for Christmas and New Year, assuming that my mom would want that. It made sense, after all the holiday mood might in fact make her much lonelier and that the best I could do is be there for her. I opted to stay until after the New Year.
Damn, these air tickets are expensive!
By eleven o'clock I've ran out of things to do. Until then I haven't really given much thought to the death of my dad. I felt there were more immediate things to do and that I can deal with mourning for him later when I'm in Surigao.
Strangely, I had the urge to tell my friends. I SMSed first my BKK friends and then I YMed the Czarina of Penang, who then told some of our blogger friends. The BKK friends called to check on me and soon enough messages from the blogger amigas came in one by one.
Until yesterday, I did not have a very clear idea of how to comfort people who just lost their loved ones. When I received my friends' messages of condolences though I honestly felt less and less lonely.
I wasn't particularly sad but looking at it now I was just completely lonely, that someone left me on my own. I remember asking my self while staring at my computer screen: where is everyone? I don't know what I meant with that question, I was simply yearning for people to acknowledge my loss.
So I wrote that blog post about the death of my father. I suppose I wanted to lessen the desolation I felt by sharing my mourning. I haven't had this kind of feeling before and to tell people about my grief was almost instinctive.
As the day progressed I felt that I needed to inform more of my friends about the death of my father. Not that they can do anything about it, but I figured maybe they should just know. Again, this feeling is really foreign to me, that sense of urgency that my closest friends acknowledge my loss. I swear it's strange.
I initially planned to inform my friends in Davao and Surigao. As I checked my list of people to inform, I kept on adding one name after another. I started with just four names but ended up sending the email to about two dozen people: former colleagues, classmates, etc.
And the email was supposedly just a short notice, instead I just kept on writing, adding nonsensical details about my dad's condition, my plans of going home, and so on. When I reviewed what I wrote it dawned on me that I must've over-done it. I seriously asked my self: why do they need to know all these?
Until now I have yet to find an answer to that question. It just felt good writing what I said and realizing that these people know what I'm going through. Perhaps, I needed to validate my feelings while I was utterly incapable to describe them. Strange. Really strange.
The entire afternoon I had this really, really strong urge to write, write, write. I had many topics floating in my head. Things such as how my father told us bedtime stories, or how he and my mom met, or how he performed magic tricks when we were kids, or about his humor, or how he loved to dance with my mom.
I pulled my self away from my desk instead, scared of the flood of emotions that would engulf me if I wrote about my dad.
In the bus to meet my friends in Silom, I was wishing that I had something to write on while the bus is stuck in traffic. The urge to write was just as strong, it does not really make sense to me. And it's not just writing my thoughts and emotions but also to put it out for others to read. Really strange, no? But I always asked my self: who really needs to know what you think and how you feel? And so I eventually tried to resist the temptation to write.
Until a few minutes ago I have been frantically ticking off the things on my list. I had a haircut and picked up my laundry. I sent some emails to friends. Read blogs. Called my mom. Updated my albums on Facebook.
I finally ran out of excuses not to sit down on my desk and write, hence, this post. Just in case you want to know.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Daddy
My dad turned 70 this year.
In December 29, he and my mom are celebrating their 32 years of marriage.
He worked as a lawyer for more than a dozen years in our little city.
Five years ago, he had a stroke and had been partially paralyzed since then.
My dad was perhaps the most influential person in my life.
He taught me humility and he always instilled in us that we should respect everyone. Most importantly, I learned the lesson of courage from him. He's always the one inspiring us to "just go for it", to be brave to face new things and stand on our own two feet.
The last time I saw my father was June this year.
Today, 26 November 2009, my dad passed away.
In December 29, he and my mom are celebrating their 32 years of marriage.He worked as a lawyer for more than a dozen years in our little city.
Five years ago, he had a stroke and had been partially paralyzed since then.
My dad was perhaps the most influential person in my life.He taught me humility and he always instilled in us that we should respect everyone. Most importantly, I learned the lesson of courage from him. He's always the one inspiring us to "just go for it", to be brave to face new things and stand on our own two feet.
The last time I saw my father was June this year.
Today, 26 November 2009, my dad passed away.
I love you, Daddy. I always will.
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