split-second madness...lifetime consequences

How do you get over losing someone in such a tragic way? Do you ever?

My best friend of over 20 years lost her brother one fateful February day. He spent four days in the ICU after being struck in the head with a blunt object. It was a deliberate act, the perpetrator’s way of getting even over something so insignificant. And because of that a wife lost the husband to whom she has dedicated her life. Because of that one stupid act, two boys will grow up, fighting their own battles, making sense of the world without a father to guide them through. A family will spend the rest of tomorrow asking questions they may never find the answers to.

The day I went to the hospital, I felt part of the pain that the rest of the family was feeling. I can only imagine the mixture of emotions they are experiencing…anger, grief, disbelief…

If only if it weren’t so sudden, if only there was a chance for a proper goodbye, an opportunity to assure that everything will be okay despite his leaving.

The greatest pain comes from knowing that his life was taken away by someone who did not think twice to measure how much his life is worth to his family and friends. Here is a man who is a great provider, a loving husband and a dutiful son, and yet his life is taken away in a spur of a moment, a result of a trivial issue that could have been easily resolved.

Words of condolences uttered may be worthless at the moment. It can never dull the pain no matter what. Words of assurance that he is now in the presence of his Maker, may even sound too condescending. For now I can only offer prayers for the family. Prayers to help them heal. There is no way to hasten the process of healing, it will be a rough and bumpy ride but the whole family must commit to hold hands throughout the journey.

I know it will take long, maybe years to understand why something like this has to happen. Only God knows the answers, only He knows why.

Day Thirty-Seven

Today is the 37th day since I moved out of my mom's house and while there are nights when I cry myself to sleep, I try to keep strong and stand firm on my decision.

I was aware even before I made my decision to move out, that it's not going to be easy. And so being ovewhelmed by my present circumstances is already an expected feeling. It doesn't make things easier, but at least it abates the feeling of dread. . .the fear that I will fail in the process.

I miss my family, and that's the hardest part. I will not talk of the unending bills, the mountainous laundry, the cable connection sans my favorite channels, or the little mouse that causes me to jump in fright at least once a day. All these things I can handle, or try my best to survive or get used to, but not being able to see my mom or call my dad breaks me apart. It's not that they've severed me from the family tree, I just feel that it's not yet the proper time to get in touch. I get news about the family from my big sister and for that I feel so grateful. My ate was true to her word; when I told her about my decision, she told me "basta kahit saan ka pumunta, hahanapin pa rin kita. Hindi ako papayag na maputol ang communication natin. Bukas ang bahay ko anytime you need to come here."

Last week I did just that. I spent the night at my sister's house. When before, my ate goes to bed at 9:00, that night, she waited up for me. And we spent the night talking and updating each other of happenings in our lives. It was not the kind of conversation that touched on the heart, but I did appreciate every moment because for a while then, I felt like things were back to normal. That night too, I got to see my Jeff-jeff and was amused at the words coming out of his 4-year old mouth.

Surprisingly, while I perfectly enjoyed playing with my Jeff-jeff again, I missed my own place. Sometime during the night I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep again. I missed my bed and the creaking sound it makes everytime I turn, I missed my new bedsheet in fake Burberry plaid design, but most of all I missed the snore of my housemate.

When I came home the following night, Nonoy and I had a fight. Nah, not exactly a fight because I was the only one upset and he was trying to appease me the whole time. I got angry because he did not buy drinking water and I didn't have anything to drink when I got home. Then the issue went to the toilet bowl that he didn't flush, and the laundry that's beginning to pile up again. Petty stuff, yes.

There will be more of this I know, it's only day thirty-seven after all.