Ever since my brother died, I have not been to his grave site.  Having settled back here in CDO, I am now able to visit both my mother’s and brother’s grave sites at least on their death anniversaries and during All Soul’s Day.  I found my relatives waiting under a tent with chairs and a table for the priest.  We all hugged and kissed and I headed to my brother’s grave and said a short prayer.

I am not the kind who questions death.  I believe that life on earth is fleeting and all of us will eventually face death one day.  My brother died at the age of 44 and has lived a full life.  Some would say it was too short, but his quality of life was good and he had fun and was loved deeply by people which I think why some of the relatives questioned God about his death.  The whys remained unanswered and I for one never expected an answer.

To me what was important was the fact that he did not suffer long and while alot was surprised about his demise, I guess they have stopped worrying about the whys now, perhaps in exception to my father, who continues to bawl like a baby whenever Joemen’s name is uttered.  Funny.  Perhaps I will never understand his reaction, but I guess alot of it has to do with guilt.

BAH.  So many questions on earth are left unanswered and there are simply some things that should be left as is.

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I hardly remember my mother now.  But certain things, a smell, food, and certain sound triggers some memories and I am reminded of her.  How she smiles, how she laughs and the food she cooks.

She died of pneumonia which was caused by her heart ailment.  She has endured an open heart surgery at the age of 32 as well as a lifetime of paralysis.  Her last months on earth was not very comfortable.  She spent months in the hospital shivering and whimpering and as my older brother said, she spent hours hanging to her cellphone hoping she’d receive a phone call from me and my sister.

During that time she was in pain, I was also undergoing one of the most painful times of my life.  I never knew she was dying, and when my children and I were on our way back home, and in transit in Bangkok, she had quietly passed away. Looking back, I sort have  understood and taken this as a sign that she knew I was coming home and on my own way to recovery from a very painful separation from my husband and the breakup of a seven year marriage.

I dealt with the death of my mother swiftly, knowing and recognizing the fact that death was inevitable and that she was finally home on the other side.  Do I believe in heaven and the concept of life ever after.  No.  Although born and raised by staunch Catholics, I believe that death is a finality and end of life.

My brother’s death was sudden.  He died at the age of 42.  His death was more painful to me than my mother’s since he was healthy and all of a sudden had myocardial infarction while on a meeting with colleagues.  He even called me hours before he died. Demanding me to see him at Makati Medical Center, and to bring food.  Looking back, I thought it was hilarious and was laughing as I prepared a cake for him the next day and my husband and I picked up his wife, Luchie who was on her way from Mindanao to see her husband who when we got to Makati Medical Center was already in ICU and was not expected to live. I was in shocked but the thought of death never came to me.

He died with me, my daughter, his wife and my husband on his side.  He made one long gasp for air and died.  His chest went to high up and he sort of reached up for some invisible hand.  He died peacefully and I was in shock and saw the grief and look of his wife, Luchie and I can only imagine the pain she felt.

While the death of Joemen was unexpected, my mother’s death was a gift.  Her death has finally ended her physical pain.  Her death has brought her relief and to the people who was looking after her.

So how did I get over the deaths in my family?

Acceptance eventually come. Handling grief is the most painful hurdle.  Transition difficult and painful.  I handled some of the death arrangements.  I took care of her things and which of her things to give away.  I kept some of her things, but I eventually gave her clothes to charity and her bags and shoes to relatives who wanted them.  Parting away with the material things she held valuable and kept was not very easy for my father.  He wanted to keep everything.  I had to wrangle and rationalize with him that while my mother’s things give him comfort, the fact remains that he had to deal with her death one way or the other.  The fact remains that she is now gone and we are still alive and we needed to continue living.  She would have wanted us to keep going on and it gives a smile on my face whenever I am reminded of her funny laughter and her addiction to telenovelas.

I treasure my memories.  My mother has been through so much pain and adversity.  I teach my children about the normalcy of death and how it can come swiftly to people who are healthy and young.

Don’t forget that you are still alive and you need to focus on the tasks at hand.  I remember that when my mother died, my father seemed to have lost his purpose.  Once he has accepted the death and the finality of Mama’s death, he managed to move on with his life now and continues to enjoy life without her.

Think about it this way, if your parent was still alive, would she or he want you to do this on yourself.  Most likely not.  Life went on for me, and the death of a love one is just one painful episode in your life. The loss feeling of loss will fade and you will eventually find and refocus your life once you have accepted the death of a loved one.

Death is part of life and it comes and it goes.  Life goes on for those left on earth and it might be unbelievable for those who has just lost a loved one, but we eventually will feel better.  The pain will cease and the memories of pain will come to bay and eventually fade.

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Since my mother is Catholic and religious, I thought that it would be appropriate to follow her belief and practices with concern to the remembrance of her death.  This would mean, the usual 9-day novena, then the big feast on the day itself– 27th November– a very important day for me as well as this is the day my children and I had travelled back to the Philippines and this is also the day my only son Ty was born.  He will be 3 on this day too.

The 9 day novena would entail praying for the soul of my mother for a straight 9 days in my house.  I am expected to serve dinner and snacks to anybody who is joining the prayers.  Since 9 days is a long day, I am thinking of buying a pig for slaughtering so we could use the meat for the entire 9 days, including the major day itself.  I would need to prepare a meal plan to avoid mispending and stress during the novena days.  I am also hiring a cook to prepare the food, as well as contacting the prayer leader and the church to schedule a special mass for my mother on the big day.

My younger sister Amy is helping me financially since she is unable to come for the anniversary.  Needless to say, I am thankful that she is able to shell out some cash so there are no hitches on mama’s anniversary.  My sister in law Luchie is helping me with the preparation for the items for the offertory and the reading.

Since everything is on planning stage, I would appreciate any suggestion, feedback and ideas on the novena and celebration of death anniversaries.  A neighbor actually suggested I skip the 9 day novena and then just make the 27th a whole day affair.  What do you think?

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…You may suffer bereavement, but life does not stop. It goes on…

Satyajit Ray (1921-1992), Indian Film Director, Deliverance.

It would be my brother’s 6th year death anniversary on the 25th. It has been awhile since I have thought of him, but death has been discussed recently and unlike some people I have become comfortable discussing death with my children.

Joemen, my brother died at the age of 42. He died from myocardial infarction (heart attack). We all never saw it coming. It came and took him while he was traveling to Manila for an official business meeting. Diabetes, hypertension and heart disease is nothing new to us. But Kuya was strong as an ox! He was robust and had problems with his cholesterol level and blood sugar. While traveling, the infarction came mildly. He experienced tightness in the chest, lightheadedness and headache. No one suspected mild infarction, but being with doctors, they suggested he go down to Makati Med Emergency Room for a check up and he died the next day. What made this day remarkable to me was the fact that I was there beside him when he died. Him dying and expiring never came to me, event then I remembered wondering why he was in the ICU for a routine check up. He called me at home and asked me to visit him. We picked up his wife in the airport then we went to see him at Makati Med. I think an hour or so during our visit, he died.

Right now, in this moment, I can still remember his face. How it lit up when he saw us. How his chest suddenly lifted off the bed then the machines beside him started to beep intermittently. The beeping was so loud and I remembered all the nurses rushing in and more machines were pushed in the room. We were ordered to leave the room, and my sister in law and I peered through the crack on the door, so scared to even think and consider the unthinkable. Forty-five minutes after, he was pronounced dead.

My oldest brother was my favorite. Somehow he knew what to give us for our birthdays, and during Christmas– bears, Mickey Mouse watches, numerous Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys series… Every weekend he would come around the house with his wife, his girl friend and he would drive us around his car and it would really make our day. He was my defender when our father was cross with me. He was our source of laughter as his sense of humor was fantastically clever.

Tomorrow, as his death anniversary comes, we will remember Kuya as a person so full of life. We will remember all the good things he has done for us. One thing is for sure he will always be remembered with a smile… I love you Kuya, wherever you are…

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Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. Nobody that matters, that is.

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. Poet

I had a very interesting night. My second daughter asked me a striking question. “Will I die also?” Ofcourse the question did not come out just like that. It started with the conversation about rats and how we needed to keep our house clean so rats will not feast on our crumbs in the kitchen and bedroom (as my children has the habit of taking bread, biscuits and whatever snacks inside the room).

Then the other day, we were welcomed by a dead rat in our living room. It was a sorry sight. We shrieked first then I needed to clean it out, so I took the dustpan and swept the dead rat into it and threw the rat in the garbage pile. It was not very difficult to explain the death of the rat since it was obvious that the cat did it because there were puncture wounds on its body. I explained the possible circumstance and the children accepted it. Until—

Anyway, while we were getting ready for bed, she asked me, “Will I be in high school or college when I get old?” So I said, technically that would not be old, but you would have aged more then. Then, she asked, “But will I die when I get old?” I was stunned for awhile and choosing my words carefully I said “You actually do not have to be old to die. Because some people actually die young.” Then she suddenly started crying and saying, “I do not want to die, Mom.” I was shocked, and I hugged her and then she said, “God, please I do not want to die.”

I said, “Nobody is dying, Ba-ba.” My children has actually experienced death recently as my mom has passed away last November. Though my children had not been in the funeral, they are very much aware of death in the family, as my brother had also passed away years ago. I thought, “Now, how do I explain this to a child?” I mustered enough courage and said, “If we take care of ourselves, and no accidents happened, we will not die.” I also added, “Everybody WILL die. Mommy will die, Daddy will die, one day.” She wailed and I wanted to take my words back, but thought, “What the heck? Let her hear about death from me, rather than from others.” I said, “we certainly cannot control everything in our lives, ba-ba. Sometimes, people die because of illnesses… like Lola, who died because of heart complications, or Uncle, because he smoked alot and it gave him alot of problems and he died because of that.” “Also Daddy’s Dad died of old age, but he has been sickly for a long time…”

She quieted, and she listened intently. I was stroking her face as I explain along, and while my oldest daughter listens quietly. I also stressed the importance of taking care of ourselves by eating the right food, and avoiding circumstances that might lead to death or accidents. Or even taking proper medications so we will not become too ill. She then asks me, “Mom, do not let me die.” I cried then and told her, “Baba, I will try my best.”

Looking back to my exchange with my little one, I thought I was right and I was very open to her about the aspect of death. I am happy she had voiced out her questions to me that meant to me that my daughter trust me enough for her to ask about the subject of death. I had to think back hard if I had the same experience as a child. So far, I cannot remember any instance that I had asked, but my experience was different. I was not exposed to death, when I was young. My brother died a few years ago. My mother died months ago. My husband’s dad and sister died a few years ago also. So the subject of death came early in our family. I think though it is morbid, but death will always be a part of living. It is a part of life and no matter how much we try to avoid death, it will come, and when it will, most of the time, the people who mattered to us will not be ready at all…

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I finally got tired of tweaking the wires because usually after a few tweaks, the mouse would continue to work then after a few movement it dies again. Perhaps the internal wiring gets disconnected after a few movement then after I tweak it, it reconnects then stops again.

Well, I guess this is what I get for buying those cheapy-cheapy mouse. This is our second mouse. The first mouse broke after one month and this is the second cheapy-cheapy mouse. At least it broke at a better time– its my children’s 1st grading exams. No games, no Diner Dash and Flo on the Go nor Turtle Oddessey. And no browsing for me… I simply do the not have the patience to use the tab keys and I have not mastered the shortcut keys for Firefox.

So, let the PC have a rest and lets buy the replacement next week… this time, I will buy 2 cheapy-cheapy mouse.

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Absence, Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

When my mother died, I went blank When my brother died, my world stopped.

Death has a strange way of putting our own lives in perspective. In my lifetime, I had 2 close friends who died when I was under 12 years old and 2 family members. My brother died when I was 25. My mother died when I was 31.

Mylene and Roxanne died when I was in elementary school. Both died of some disease that we more or less knew they were going to die, like my mother. My mother had some heart disease, and she has been having those tiny strokes for 2 years prior to her death last year. My brother died unexpectedly. He was a robust man. He traveled to Manila, took a plane, attended to a meeting, felt headache and couldn’t breathe, went to Makati Med for a check up after officemates insisted, next day, he died. Myocardial infarction. He died at the age of 42.

My mother died at the age of 54. She died the day of my son’s birthday and the day we arrived in Manila from abroad. The day my mother died was bittersweet for me. My children and I were in Bangkok safely, and looking forward to coming home. I only heard of my mother’s death 2 days after. My world paused, and I had to know what my priorities were that time and I moved.

When people close to me died, I realized that they are gone. I speak of my brother with happiness and pride at all times. His memories are still alive but those are all but memories. My mother left a huge mark on my life and her existence had formed me as a person more than my father had. I am more my mother than anybody else. Living with my father now and realizing how much my mother had given to our lives and her relationship with my father made me understand the real meaning of companionship and dedication of couples to each other and the vow they took decades ago. But this entry is not about that. This is about memories that we allow ourselves to be immersed in and how we allow the memories of the dead interplay with our current lives. Their lives cease to exist, but their memories lingers as long as we allow them to be.

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