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It's not easy,

but I can't run away.

It's difficult,

but I believe it's not a fault.

I turn my back, get ready to go.

But, deep inside, I know

I'll never leave you.

I'll never leave you.

I try to turn around,

but my feet are glued on the ground.

I say I would give up,

but I know that I could not.

You're worth the fight.

Letting go is just not right.

Maybe, the sky is not that bright.

But there is still a light.

Incessant are the promises I broke,

'cause every moment I look,

each time I see you move,

I get reminded of your worth.

I always decide to go.

And, it's true, I always do.

But the bridges and roads take me back to you.

Somehow, they know that you're my sweetest woe.

You don't see your winsome face.

You don't see how great your soul is.

But, I discern every color in you.

Somehow, this heart has nil to rue.

Far from you I swear I'd roam,

but you don't deserve to wander alone.

I can't see you walking on your own.

I can't see you walking on your own.

But tell me if solitude is what you need.

Speak when with me you don’t want to proceed.

If through your acts you write but I fail to read,

Talk to me and I would heed.

Whatever befalls, I deeply know,

I’ll only depart when you tell me to go.

For I never dream to hold you 'till you die.

Higher than the highest, I want to see you fly.

[April 2013]

(Hindi ko alam kung ano 'to. Hindi ko masabing tula. Baka rap? :D Basta, tuluy-tuloy ko lang naisulat.)

Repleting the Void

Star:

I am a shining little star whose duty is to scintillate for the whole land. At first, I supposed that this is the only reason of my existence. Until one night, I fell in love with the moon.

The moon is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen in my entire life and the only one who is conspicuous enough to capture my heart.

Every night, I go beside him for the world to vide how lovely we look when we are together. I discern nothing wrong with this for I strongly believe that I and he were destined to be with each other.

He enjoys my company too and I am happy about it even if I am not the only star in the evening sky. I know he perceives me as the best.

I want to hold him forever and I believe that not a single quirk of fate can take him away from me. I know that he loves me even if he seldom tell the words that I always long to hear every second. He cares for me beyond words and I will always love him aught it takes.

But, to my surprise, I saw him with another star. It hurts to see him that way so I hid behind a cloud and stayed there until the next day arrived.

Cloud:

Star is my closest friend and I have witnessed all her sacrifices for the moon.

She confides everything to me -- I know every bit of her reveries, pipedreams, successes and frustrations for I am always here to heed. In return, I avow everything to her -- except for a secret that I want her to decipher on her own.

The night when the moon was out of sight, I told her to leave for a while and relish the feeling of being alone.

Moon:

I am the moon -- the most winsome creature in the night sky. Almost all the clouds, the stars and even the people living on earth admire me. I know my worth and I will use all the advantages of such.

There are a lot of creatures in the universe but none of them caught the eye of a shining little star -- and I believe that it is only me who can own her heart.

She believes that she is the only one for me but, the truth is, she is only a part of my collection. I do allow myself to be with her but that was only for fun. She is a great fool for not noticing that I do not know how to love and all I want is to play around with those who hero-worship me. I never thought of having her until the end. A lot of her ilk can be found everywhere. I cannot be sated with only one -- I want to explore.

One night, I went out with another star -- a lovelier and brighter one. I know she saw us then that is why she hid behind a cloud.

That was only the first time. That happened again the next night, the other night and the night after until it was almost a fortnight.

Every evening, I was with a different star -- sometimes with the clouds. I got tired of doing that later on so I did not come up one windswept night.

Breeze:

All of us have the right to dream. All of us have the right to love. If loving a shining little star like her is a dire crime, then it is a pleasure to be a miscreant.

I love the glittering star which is always hiding behind a cloud even it I know that it is impossible for her to love me back. She does not even vide me and I could never be as charming as the moon.

I never had a chance to tell her how I feel but I remained at her side. I will not let the wonderful feeling of being in love cease. I will not shun her -- I stay forever even if my existence was bound to be unseen. I will cling to this emotion whatever it takes because loving her is truly a glimpse of paradise.

Maybe, this is what love really means -- to sacrifice your own bliss for someone without expecting anything in return.

Star has a best friend, a cloud. This cloud knows everything about this profound affection that I have been hiding all these years.

Star:

It was rum, grotesque -- totally uncanny. The cloud told me to leave for a moment.

I looked around. No one, nil, was in the sky. I went to the spot where the moon and I used to stay ere.

My tears began to run down like the liquid crystal flowing from waterfalls-- unceasing, berserk. Suddenly, I felt the cold breeze embracing me -- wiping the sorrow in my eyes.

Moon:

The night I did not show up in the sky, I began to miss my erstwhile star. I started longing for the way she glitters to please me and how she shines passionately for me to feel the warmth of her superfluous love. I then vowed, that when I come out afresh, I will ask for her forgiveness and tell her how much she means to me.

But, I surmise, it was already too late to be the love of her life. From a distance, I perceived the demise of my dreams. She was already relishing the universe with the breeze.

I should have been contented. She is more than what is needed. She is not just better than the others -- she is the best. I can enjoy my existence with the rest, with the other creatures. I can always have fun them. But, I realized, happiness is not about being with someone who can give you the sweetest smile when you are in bliss -- it is about having someone who will never get tired of cheering you up in the midst of your loneliest days. Others are only here because of my beautiful white light but, the one who used to love me, she stayed with me then because she treasures my heart.

Now, I believe the people dwelling on the surface of the living planet. It is true that it is often too late when creatures find out the worth of what they have -- a virulent fact in life.

I know that I could not find a star that reflects every scintilla she has. I should accept the consequences of my daft acts. I will continue to live for so many billion years, for the world, amid this endless universe, and shine my thumping best each time I show up. I may hide my pale ale miseries and rues from those who will gaze at me but nothing can change the reality that my heart is slowly incinerating abyss in me. If meteors could really grant a wish, I would ask each one of them to make the burning of this heart faster. I would rather see myself existing without such instead of having it imbued with painful regrets.

Breeze:

From a distance, I can discern the moon wishing her back but he must face the truth that her love for him has died. She is profoundly in love with me now.

It is true that having the courage to fight, forgetting how to cede no matter what and holding on to our Beloved Creator can make all things possible. Patience is truly a virtue and so as the passionate affection which is the greatest of all the other weapon. Waiting was never easy but I did it.

Some creatures told me that I was insane but I covered my ears to eschew hearing them.

Nonetheless, I feel no irk at this moment for next to me is my greatest reward -- SHE.

[September 2010]

Tuldok

Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo. Kailan ako hihinto? Apat. Lima. Anim. Pito. Alam kong hindi nauubos ang numero. Walo. Siyam. Sampu. Paano ba sabihin ang paalam na sa iyo?

Sa iyong mga mata ay hindi ko makita ang pagsinta -- walang lambing, walang saya, walang natatanging pagsinta. Kapag tinitingnan kita, sa tuwing tinitingnan mo ako, kapag nagtatama ang ating paningin ay batid ko na magkaiba ang ating natatanaw. Ikaw at ako, kailanman ay hindi naging isa. Mapanglaw man ay para bang tinaggap ko ng sa piling mo ay palagi akong mag-iisa.

Sa tinig mo ay hindi mabakas ang sigla -- walang matamis na hiwaga. Kapag binabanggit mo ang pangalan ko ay hindi ko naririnig ang tinig ng Adarna. Bawat himig mo ay para sa iba -- hindi para sa akin, kung hindi ay para sa kanya. Wala akong puwang sa bawat kataga, ikubli mo man sa iyong pananalita.

Hanggang ngayon ay kulang pa rin ba? Kailan ba magiging sapat? Ang lahat ba ay wala pa rin saysay?

Ang lahat ng tuwa, sa wari ko, ay akin lamang gawa-gawa. Ang mga pangungusap mo sa ilalim ng bilog na buwan ay para bang likha lamang ng mga nahahabag na tala. Alin ba sa mga sinabi mo ang sa iyo talaga nagmula? Sana ay malaman ko na, ng maitama ang bawat maling pag-asa at paniniwala.

Hindi ko na matukoy ang guniguni sa tunay na nangyayari. Hindi ko na alam kung alin ang dapat yakapin at ang dapat iwaksi.

Kahit kailan ay alam kong hindi ako naging husto. Palagi kang may hinahanap, palagi kang may ibang gusto. Hindi mo man sabihin o ipakita ay nadarama ko.

Paminsan-minsan ay naiisip ko na paano kaya kung may dumating sa buhay ko at maging palagay ako sa kanya. Kahit saglit ba ay sasagi ako sa isip mo? Hahanapin mo ba kahit papaano ang presensya ko? Mangungulila ka kaya? O, mapagtatanto mong higit na kailanman ay hindi ako nagkaroon ng halaga?

Papahulog na ako sa kawalan. Dumudulas na ang aking mga kamay sa kinakapitan. Mahirap manatili sa parteng ito, lalo na at wala ang kamay mo para ako ay hawakan.

Ang numero ay nauubos din kapag huminto ang nagbibilang. Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo. Aabot pa ba ng dalawampu? Hindi ko na alam kug hanggang saan magagawang tumungo. Tila sa labing siyam ay titigil na ako. Marahil, bago pa man matutunang sabihin ang paalam na sa iyo.

[April 2013]

Ang Lumiham

Ika'y dumalaw sa pagtulog n'ya,

May pilit na tinatanong sa kanya,

Ngunit sagot ay 'di nagpaubaya,

Bago pa ibigay ay nagising na s'ya.

Sa lumang baul ay naghanap,

Siya na 'di alam ang nagaganap,

Mga piraso ng kirot at hirap,

Kanyang nakuha sa isang iglap.

Tatlong pahina'y muling inisa-isa,

Sa isipa'y nakita ang minsang umasa,

Na ang kahapo'y mababawi pa ng dusa,

Batid mang tadhana ang nagpaparusa.

Sa bilangguan ng nagdaa'y 'pinuslit,

Mga pangungusap na puno ng pait,

Nilitis ang diwang binuo ng sakit,

Kahapo'y binalika't inulit.

Nabagabag yaring humuhusga,

Sa dragong luha ang ibinuga,

Yaring apoy na sana'y sinunog siya,

Para sa ngiti n'ya'y 'di na pinalaya pa.

Umiiyak ang bawat salita,

Nananaghoy ang mga talata,

Ngunit lahat noo'y 'di nakita,

'Kinubli ng tuwang iyong ipininta.

Maling hatol ay natuklasan,

'Di para sa'yo ang krus na pinasan,

Hapding tinanggap ay walang katarungan,

Sana'y 'binaba na ang daigdig na tangan.

Sa panalangin ay kanyang isasama,

Na ang lahat sa buhay mo'y maging tama,

Nawa'y lusaw na ang lungko't 'di na madama,

Kabiguang niyakap ng 'di umaalma.

[April 2013]

Why God Smiles When I Cry

The ball in the sky suddenly stops, the dances up there pause for a while, and the music of the breeze slowly dies. The sparkling stars become envious glances on me; perhaps they resent me tonight, for my eyes shine better than the glitters on their silver gowns. In the midst of this bliss, abruptly, I recall some scenes from yesterday.

Of course I remember the past -- every piece, every parcel, of yesterday even it did not last. I still can recall how everything began and how it ended so fast. I am familiar with every memory up to this moment. The places, the language, the music, the letters, the flowers, the poems and others -- even the noises, the blades, the wounds, the tears, the scars, the chains and the whole process -- are real up to this date. However, even ghosts get tired of haunting the living souls, especially when stronger forces are present. What happened long ago will never be erased but can always be replaced by the ones that are worth enshrining. Memories of the good old days are still breathing, though -- but they are lifeless, I must say.

Of course, I know what befell in days of yore. I wrote them all with my feet -- and wrote them again using my hand. They were recorded at the surface of an extraordinary paper called time. No one, nil, can erase them in the book of my history. But, as a song express, all these memories lose their meaning when I think of love as something new.

Something new. I step back to the gate of the past and find myself asking so many things -- whining and complaining to God's angels. I frown and shake my head in disappointment. I do not belong here, I whisper. I travel back to where I belong.

Now, here I am in the present anew. I am, afresh, amid the safety of a world filled with the things that I cherish the most. My dreams are here, replacing what was taken away. I am surrounded by people that I starkly love. The moment utterly glows as the air embraces my entire soul. I am complete, I have more than what I deserve. The nights of solitude were over. The days seem to be incessant -- bridges and roads leading to a limitless time.

I do not miss anyone, I do not regret anything. I already learned that to continue owning your space inside the room of happiness, you must appreciate the beauty of what you have and accept that some stories should end in the most drastic ways. Like what I have read, one must look at the doughnut and not its hole.

I walk towards the fireplace and sit beside him. I vide his face -- I discern the eyes, the smile, the man I deeply love. There I realize that I am in raptures tonight because of him. He is more than anything I could wish for -- more wonderful that the reveries that I used to invent in my mind. He is not a daydream, far from a pipedream. He is a boon from heaven, the reason why the angels failed me for so many times then. Garth Brooks is right, some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.

The stars are still sparkling when I gaze outside the window. I close my eyes.

Not a single creature could ever perceive how much I value his existence. No man could fathom how my soul relishes his presence. The world may never know but butterflies wander fain in the garden of my heart when there is light and fireflies roam blissfully in the paradise of my dream during the night because of being in love again. I may fail to tell the universe that he is more than a treasure to me but I am sated with the fact that he knows it -- that is greater than the awareness of the whole land.

[April 2013]

Nagbalik na Ako

Tama ba ang tamang panahong nasa isip mo?

Kay tagal kong itinago ng mga salitang ito ngunit ngayon ay sasabihin ko na ito. Kay tagal kong hinintay ang tamang pagkakataon para ipagtapat ang lahat ng mga lihim na ilang taon kong ikinubli. Wala ng ibang panahon para magpaliwanag kung hindi ngayon kaya kahit hindi ko alam kung makikinig siya ay susubukan ko. Hindi pa huli ang lahat para makita siya at subukan siyang kausapin ngunit pagkatapos nito, kung palalagpasin kong muli ang sandali, ay wala ng kasunod na panahon para sa mga katagang ilang taon kong sinarili.

Pero, bakit ganoon? Parang may hindi tama. Iba ito sa inaasahan kong tagpo. Alam ko pa ba ang ginagawa ko?

Bitbit ang nobelang isang dekada mahigit kong iningatan para sa muli naming pagkikita ay dahan-dahan akong humakbang papasok ng simbahan.

Binigkas ko ang pangalan niya. Sa tingin ko, masyadong malakas iyon -- sapat para makuha ko ang pansin ng lahat.

"Ikaw?" gulat na sabi ng isang lumang tao mula sa dati kong mundo. "Hindi ka na dapat bumalik! Umalis ka na!"

Narinig ko ang sinabi ng babaeng iyon, na nasa harap ng altar, ngunit hindi ko pinakinggan. Hindi ito ang tamang panahon para magpaapekto dahil ito na ang huli. Nagpatuloy ako sa paglalakad palapit sa tunay kong iniibig, wala na akong pakialam sa sasabihin ng mga taong nakapaligid.

Nakita ko ang reaksyon ng bawat isa, hindi maitatangging tunay silang nabigla. Sa kabila nito, wala ng iba pang umusal ng kahit anong kataga. Lahat ng naroon ay nakatingin lamang sa akin, walang nagsasalita. Walang ibang maririnig kung hindi ang isang pamilyar na awit na hindi ko mawari kung bakit tinutugtog ngayon.

Though I know I'll never lose affection...

Hindi ako maaaring magkamali. Pero, bakit?

For people and things that went before...

Sa dinami-rami ng kanta, bakit ito pa?

I know I'll often stop and think about them...

Dapat ba akong matuwa na ito ang pinili nilang awit?

In my life...

May dapat pa ba akong ikatuwa ngayon?

I love you more...

Mababago ba ng awit na ito, na noon ay alay ko sa kanya, ang mga napabayaang saglit sa loob ng labing-isang taon? Ngayong tinutugtog ito ay mababawi ko na ba ang panahon?

Nakatingin pa rin ang lahat sa akin. Ganito pala ang pakiramdam kapag hindi ka inaasahan sa isang kaganapan.

Sa kanilang mga mata ay iisa lamang ang nababasa ko: "Bakit ngayon ka lang, Almira?"

Ang tanong na iyon ay hindi ko muna sasagutin. Nagpatuloy ang aking mga paa na kahit nanginginig ay alam kong hindi hihinto. Bumilis ang tibok ng puso ko. Ngayon ay nasa gitna na ako ng simbahan. Handa ba talaga ako?

O, ang ilang taong paghahanda ko ay kulang pa rin sapagkat hindi bahagi ng plano ko na sa ganitong tagpo ko siya haharaping muli?

Nagpatuloy ang mabilis na pagpintig, pabilis pa ng pabilis. Sana, sana pala, ay hindi na lamang ako umalis.

(Nakakailang chapter na ako rito. Sana matapos ko ulit. Hahaha. Oo 'yan. Inspired e. HAHAHA.)


[April 2013]

I Discern Heaven Everytime I Think of Him

Looking at this tiny shred of faith, I realized how frail I am.

        

Under the cerulean heaven of a peaceful afternoon, I found myself wandering along the streets of Intramuros, seeking for someone or something that can give me enough inspiration to grow and burgeon anon. I was not alone that day – I was surrounded by a lot of people with different stories say. Some of them bear enthralling tales of raptures with them while relishing that peaceful afternoon. Some of them want to rupture in tears as they recall the drastic events that they were forced to embrace in order to live. All of them are interesting people but, somehow, the soul that I have searching for was not around because that person who has the heart that can make me vide the beauty of living in this temporary paradise was really hard to find.

               

I was losing hope when I sat down at the rough stairs in front of the Manila Cathedral. The rain was beginning to fall. I asked the cotton-like clouds above: “Is it a blessing or a curse?” And I got the heaven’s reply when I saw a thin, old man selling colorful rosaries with his underarm crutches in use.

                Opportunities are like shooting stars. It may disappear in just a blink of an eye without even waving goodbye. I hurriedly crossed the street and rushed to the place where he is. From a distance, I discerned him gazing at me with his eyes scintillating like evening stars and with his broad smile as wide as the endless sky. I opened up the conversation and watched the story of his life as it unfurls before the two wide open eyes of my soul.

               

Mang Nonoy is the face of millions of people who disregard their illnesses only to provide food for their families. He is a rosary vendor near the Manila Cathedral and has been doing such job there since 1979. He travels everyday from Montalban, Rizal to Intramuros, Manila. According to him, a lot of tourists are going in and out of the walled city that is why a lot of buyers are also there. Most of his buyers are foreigners and balikbayans. Some students and Filipinos who are having tours there also purchase rosaries from him. At first, he sells different kinds of products depending on what is “in”, and then he finally made up his mind to focus only in selling rosaries with different colors and styles. He made most of those rosaries by buying beads from Cebu, Manila and other places where it was cheap while some of them were made by those prisoners who are starting to face another sunrise in their lives after those long windswept nights.

               

He is a kind and loving father, a hard-working and passionate husband of his spouse who is a factory worker. He does not care about his being lame and all he aims to do is to help his wife in raising their four children. Three of his those children are studying that is why he really needs to earn money because he knows that education is the only treasure he can give them because he, himself, came from a very poor family and he has no properties that he can leave them when he dies. All of his wishes, reveries, hopes and even pipedreams revolve around his deepest dream and that is to see them successful in their lives. Sickness will never be a hindrance for him to fight valiantly against windswept moments and virulent things. If it was for his children, he knows no pain, no hunger and no disability. His love for his family supersedes the brightness of the eye in the sky amid the summer days. The heat of the sun can only burn his skin but it can never turn his altruistic emotion for them into ashes.

               

For more than three decades of selling, he has witnessed the special events as well as the changes that occurred within the said city. He cheerfully told me his thoughts and feelings when he saw Sharon Cuneta and Gabby Concepcion’s wedding. He also expressed his delight everytime he sees famous personalities in the Manila Cathedral. The way I see it, he perceive these things as boons from the angels above – things that entertains him when he is working.

               

We continued our conversation. I learned a lot of things from him such as the beauty of acceptance, love, bravery, perseverance, determination and selflessness. But of all his advices about life, what I like the most was the perception that he shared to me.

               

“Lahat ng bagay ay mahirap, kailangan lang ng tiyaga,” he stated.

               

With what he said, I recalled all the moments in my life when I succumbed without having fighting as one of my choices. I realized how numbskull I am to make giving up, for so many times, as my only option. He, a man who was enfeeble by a disability, knows how to run and race with those passing cars and walking people for the sake of his family while those without illnesses loves complaining to God and shunning their tests from the angels above. Somehow, it was a sad reality that those who are healthy, has more than enough and owns an almost perfect life are the ones who are flimsy, longing for a lot of things and seeing the Earth as a forest of swizz.

               

The world is replete with incessant happiness and conspicuous mirth but a lot of us can never be sated because of fear and pessimism.

               

Everytime I see this little piece of faith, I fathom how weak I am for shedding tears for petty things and accusing life as unfair because of inane reasons. And I remember him, Mang Nonoy, who taught me how to open my eyes to the fact that I got a lot of blessings to embrace and so many things to learn. Yes, he is the soul that I want. Anyone can be an inspiration – both rich and poor. It is not the status that determines the person who can bring sunshine into your life but the heart he owns inside of him.

                 

Each time I vide the rosary I bought from him, I perceive the sun rising from the East and the rainbow that comes after the rain — I discern the reality that I can always be a fighter, I can always squelch every obstacle in this race called life. Yes, I see heaven everytime he enters my mind – I find the kingdom of God that promises a life of glowing bliss.

[2012]

The Last Morning

 I never knew what loneliness means, I never fathomed what pain really is, until he went away and crumbled my heart into a million shreds. Your first heartbreak, as they say, is the deepest of all pain — the longest gash, a proof that things are no longer the same. Until now, I cry for him. Until now, I long for his arms.

Albay is the most wonderful place for me. It fits the description of paradise. This is where the fireflies scintillate at night. This is where the rivers flow without bearing pieces of trash. This is where the rocks are bigger than the people. This is where you can place with chickens, ducks, carabaos and cows. This is where the trees and the breeze dances in the night like Cinderella and her prince. This is where the sun rays glitter in every place during the month of April — the place where the rain falls gently in the month of May.

My family always spends Christmas in this province, where my father was raised. But, we do not go there for a summer vacation — and I do not know the reason why.

But, this summer is different. My parents took us here while believing that, at the age of thirteen, I can manage to take care of myself and my younger brother.

Perhaps, this summer was perfect. I made new friends and learned a lot of things about the people living there. I also meet someone who became very special to me — someone who made me realize that the city is too far from heavenly life. I know, when I travel back to Marikina, I will really shed more than a tear.

My brother, who is too shy to socialize with others, is often left at my grandparents’ house. Most of the times, my grandfather does not allow me to go to far places but I do not obey him. I believe that I already know what I am doing for I am no longer a child and that the main purpose of my vacation is to relish my father’s hometown.

Days passes, my parents come here for fiesta and tells us that we shall go with them. On bended knees, I beg for another week to stay there. Luckily, they agree.

Life is too serene in this place. I cherish every bit of it, including the ones I met. Somehow, I keep thinking how to say to my parents that I think it is better in we move here.

Time flies. Today is my last day here. I am a little bit lonely and bothered. I really do not want to go.

Looking at my grandfather as he lays sleeping under the shades of several trees, I realize how old he is and so as my grandmother who has been sick for days. Perhaps, he needs a rest for he is too caring to sleep while his beloved spouse is in a terrible condition.

The rain pours, disregarding the burning sun. He wakes up and goes home.

“Your father is coming today,” he says with his eyes glittering in bliss. I always know that my father is the closest to his heart among his four children. He always welcome us with a loving embrace and, each time we are about to go home, people see him inside his room with his eyes imbued with tears.

I suddenly feel a bit of weirdness. Why is he in mirth? I am going back to Marikina tomorrow with father. Maybe, he truly misses his son.

Focusing my sight at my grandfather’s face, aflame with profound excitement of seeing his child again, I realize the reason why he always want me to stay at home — he perceives the image of my father with us. I become guilty of thinking that he does not want me to enjoy my vacation.

I make a promise to myself that, when I return to this province, I will do everything I can to let them feel my love. I vow that, one day, I will be mature enough to take care of them.

The morning greets me while I am sleeping in bed. I hurriedly go out of the room to eat breakfast so that I can say goodbye to all the ones who made my vacation a worth-enshrining sojourn.

My grandfather, filled with zeal, prepares a breakfast for me. It is my favorite rice cake, though I do not know its name. We chat about so many things before I finish my breakfast and go out of the house.

Few hours later, I return to my grandparents’ house. My grandmother embraces me so tight that I can not breathe. She is crying. I cry too.

Albay is the most wonderful place for me. It fits the description of paradise. This is where the fireflies scintillate at night. This is where the rivers flow without bearing pieces of trash. This is where the rocks are bigger than the people. This is where you can place with chickens, ducks, carabaos and cows. This is where the trees and the breeze dances in the night like Cinderella and her prince. This is where the sun rays glitter in every place during the month of April — the place where the rain falls gently in the month of May. And, most of all, this is where I first saw him — this is where we built hundreds of memories, me and my grandfather — this is where I first saw him, when I was a young girl.

I rupture in tears. The Mayon Volcano seems so quiet today but another volcano is erupting inside of me. My soul wants to fly back in time when I vide my grandfather inside the coffin. Heart attack is so drastic to be able to kill him.

I recall the moments when I am still a child, the times when I relish my vacation with no one but him. I envy my brother who had a lot of time with him this summer. I envy my father who carries him in his arms and had the chance to tell him how important he is for him. I resent myself for being a fool — for failing to understand that we came here to be with my grandparents who truly miss us.

“No!” I scream. “He is not my grandpa! He is not dead! I am going home to Marikina and return here m when I already know how to take care of them. I still have a lot of recipes to learn. I still have to know how to cook rice. I want to go home now.” I keep talking to myself as I run away.

What about our dreams when I am still a child? How will he read the things that I will write in the future?

“Grandpa! Please prepare my breakfast again!”

The day of his funeral is a tragedy to me. Everyone cries. My grandmother whines while believing that she is the one who must be inside the box that carries my grandfather because she is the one who is sick. My cousins do not want to talk, even my brother. And, for the first time, I saw my father cry while screaming that he loves him so much. I am also drowning in tears.

“Grandpa,” I tell him before they close his coffin, “someday, I’ll write about you.”

Until now, I cry for him. Until now, I long for him. The pain was so long ago but it lives in me as if it belongs in the present. I have written several stories about my grandfather but it do not change the fact that I failed to say I love him for the last time. Yes, I can move from anything, from anyone, but I could never let go of this sadness. My first heartbreak has a way of finding me through those sweet memories of yesterday.

[2013]

The ‘Young Once’ and their Once-Upon-a-Time

“Objects remind one of the past and in this they are beneficial for one can give them away and it is like shedding history. Memories are more cruel: they cannot be given away, only shared.”- Stephen, The Iron Tree

It is almost 9 o’clock in the morning. No other light is present outside of their new home. There is nil except for the first set of glittering, orange, sun rays — the one that is being considered by many as the light of hope.

However, the heat of such do not give warmth but rather exacerbates the condition of the whole place — irritates the old people inside the Luwalhati ng Maynila Home for the Aged. I, a piece that reflects their strength and freedom in days of yore, start to experience their lives. Though nobody knows what the future holds, I believe that this is more like a glimpse of tomorrow. Growing old happens naturally despite the fact that, if we are going to examine the reality, it do befall in different manners.

I am always interested with people and the stories they bear inside their hearts — especially with the old ones, knowing that they have lots of experiences and lessons to share. This is the reason why I did not find it hard to approach them, because I have the passion. However, away from others’ excitement of seeing a new face inside their shelter, an old woman tells me to go and leave them away for she thinks that I do not belong there because we are not of the same age. She resent visitors. All that I see in her eyes is a profound kind of bitterness that no one else but she could define.

The other old fellows go near me and advise me to shun her. She does not want anybody else but her self, they say. I nod at them. Though I find her interesting, I know that I must respect her. Probably, she has a deep reason for isolating herself.

I roam around the place. If chance would allow me, then I would talk to all of them.

Abruptly, an old woman runs towards me. She expresses how she likes me, even if this is our first meeting. According to her, when I smiled at her from a distance, she felt a streak of special emotion running through her veins — as if we were relatives who met after many years of separation. She did not say her name when I asked her, she just continue her pouring her heart on me. She feels like I am her grandchild, though she never had one because she is an old maid. I suddenly remember my grandmother’s embrace when she hugs me.

Ma’am Emilia, a nursing aid, calls her to give her snacks. Meanwhile, a house parent, Ma’am Nelia, approaches me and asks me to follow her. She takes me to the place where the bedriddens lay in the coldness of longing. She explains that they, the staffs, are not enough to give them adequate care. This place, perhaps, is really far from a heaven-like life — away from the cradle of a love coming from a real home. It is heart-breaking to vide these old people, who are almost dying due to their age and sickness, feeling the pain without a relative beside them. Some of them are not that old, still sensitive to emotion.

We leave the building and Ma’am Nelia goes back to her work.

I start to observe them again. I begin meeting different kinds of people whose past are not the same but the present lives are alike — lonely.

“How can I be happy?” Lolo Augusto raises his voice. “I miss my family. I never like this place.”

He, most of the time, answers in English. He is a former professor in English and History. He was brought here by his cousin who is a policeman. He really does not want to stay in this institution but he has to. He do not want anyone to be burdened because of him so even his child and his ex-wife do not know that he is here.

Similar to his sentiments are that of Lolo Pablo, Lolo Ernesto, Lola Catalina, Lola Bising and Lola Anita. They are all experiencing the pain of unwanted solitude. Lolo Pablo was already separated with his wife who never gave him a child and is being resented by his son to a woman he met when he is still too young for responsibilities;  Lolo Ernesto whose children do not treat him as their father for being absent in their lives for years without knowing the his in-laws are the reason why they are living a separate life; Lola Catalina who do not like her grandchildren’s spouses; Lola Bising whose three children love their jobs more than their mother; and Lola Anita whose children are always fighting because of her property.

Some stories are even worse. Lola Trinidad expresses a deep feeling of sadness while telling me how she loves her daughter that in spite of their simple life is always getting what she wants. Haplessly, she never appreciates her mother and disrespects her. As a result, even her husband treat her with disgrace and the reason why she got here is because he hit her head with a stone. Some concern citizen took her here. Another is that of Lolo Delfin who studied Preparatory in Law at the University of the East but feels so helpless and worthless because of his nephews, nieces and their spouses. And, Lola Teresita who had been left by her sister who asked her to accompany her to the bank but just took her elsewhere and hurriedly rode a jeepney.

“Ma’am, isama mo nalang ako.” Lola Joselyn begs, telling me that she can be a maid and she will not ask for money as payment for her service.  She only wants to get out of this place.

Somehow, this place is an institution for the unfortunate people. The sun’s heat suddenly becomes cold as ice to me. This is truly a windswept area — imbued with people whose eyes have dying lights, and some have no light at all.

“Hello!” a cheerful and beautiful woman, who does not look so old, approaches me. Her name is Lourdes but the people inside keep on calling her ‘Donya’ because she never ran out of stories about her family’s property and riches. As we chat, I fathom that even a weakening ambiance cannot enfeeble a person who has optimism in her. She explains that she is happy in this place, though her children are far from her, because she enjoys planting here — no one does it here but she. She also tells me that, when her two daughters come here from the United States, she will share some of her wealth to me. That sounds funny to me but I feel a bit sorry for her because according to Rhivan, Ma’am Nelia’s son, when we talk to each other a while ago, her daughters have already derelict her.

As I continue spending time here, I meet folks who are thankful to have a place to shelter them from the relentless people outside. We should really open our eyes to the beauty of this world, I thought. The earth maybe drastic at some point but terrible things are also signs that we are living. We only have one life and it is up to us whether we are going to live or die in every moment we breathe.

It is getting late in the afternoon now. I go to the staffs of this institution and thank them for being generous to me. I also thank the old people who made me feel so welcome.

Before I go out of the gate, two old women stop me. One of them is the one who reminded me of my grandmother’s embrace. She keeps telling me to go back here some other time. And, the other gave me a bracelet made of wooden beads which she made for me. I am really surprise with her because we never had a chance to talk while I am currently relishing this place.

I wave goodbye to them. I shall go home now.

Memories are more cruel, as what I have read in Martin Booth’s novel, for they cannot be given away — only shared. Old people have a lot of memories to share and they badly needed someone to sit beside them and hear their tales of long ago. If you are planning to leave an old person inside a home for the aged, then you are also planning to make their journey towards their last mile harder than what it supposed to be. Happiness is a choice but only a few can choose to be happy knowing that they are already abandoned. These people are frail. Are you that heartless to make them even weaker?