fortywinks

After several weeks, I finally have the courage to write this.

When a tragic situation suddenly arises, how do you cope with it? How do you help a loved one from his helpless state when you yourself is in shock and do not know what to do?

It came one unexpected afternoon on the 12th of December when my nephew, an adolescent child i consider my own, fought for his dear life. He was a victim of violence that happened in his second home, a place that nurtured him as a responsible human being, a supposedly safe sanctuary…his school. Bullies will forever be bullies. When the bully becomes an adult and thinks that he has graduated from his unforgiving ways, there is always that sense of power waiting to be unleashed. A sense of being god-like transcending to be no less than a fungus holding on. I cannot fathom the reason behind the terrifying rage; why a rock solid parking post had to be a weapon of destruction. A deathly blow on the head can send you back to your Creator , or give you a permanent neurologic deficit. The more lucky ones have to wait for hematomas to heal spontaneously with an unknown time frame and yet with the risk of having seizures in the future.

Flying home to my family in Cebu that very same hour was the longest 35 minutes of my life. The call from my frantic sister left me in a state of shock, my heart pounding crazy, and my mind point blank. For the first time, as a physician I felt so helpless. I simply CANNOT think. My physician friends made it easier for us to deal with it and i will be forever grateful to them. The airline was very kind in accommodating my request considering the urgency. I only had 2 important things with me – my cards and HOPE. When you are in a helpless situation with no one else to turn to, God is the only one to call. I compromised, gambled, pleaded to no end and shamelessly cried for mercy. God can break me in exchange for his life. There has to be a way. Recalling loving memories of his childhood was like watching reruns from an old movie with the hope of having a sequel in the future. ..a sports scholarship for college, a future course in Medicine or even heeding a call from God to serve Him. Will he ever have these options and opportunities? An obedient son, a dedicated and disciplined athlete, and a sensitive friend cannot leave us prematurely… I nervously clung to my seat with only HOPE to keep me sane.

I finally saw him long after a seizure with only abrasions on his temporal. The superficial wounds on the outside were nothing compared to the brain trauma. Extreme pain, transient amnesia, incoherence, and 2 episodes of seizures were more than ominous. We were time dependent. A slight delay without medications can leave you hypoxic and brain dead. ..I kissed and hugged him with my emotions in check this time. It was like kissing a newborn on his first breath. He has been given a new lease , a second birthday, a second life. And respectful as he was, my baby kissed my hand and jokingly showed me his broken front tooth. I couldn’t ask for more. Tooth or no tooth, he was alive. We will still be spending more Christmases together and those important occasions in his life. God may have realized that we were not prepared for the worst and never will be.

Forgiveness is a part of healing. Like the hematoma in his brain, it will take a long time for it to heal. We do not expect this to come very soon. Not even from us. The person who has shown no remorse would take him forever to heal his soul. And if by chance their paths would cross in the future, I do hope that they acknowledge each other’s existence. Perhaps, not as friends, but descent people capable of forgiving . Unfortunate things happen for a reason. This has brought our families together. This is OUR journey and we will be there for each other.

Life is too short. Spend it with your loved ones and never be afraid to tell them how much you love them. Appreciate your children even in the smallest of deeds and achievements. I hug my girls more tightly now than before and kiss them to no end. For I may be gone tomorrow and God will no longer make any compromises with me.

James Eric, I love you… i will always love you.

special thanks to Niza, Vanessa, and Janet for making this article for me.

Triangle.  With three equal sides it makes it perfect.  Can two relationships be at par?  Can you equally divide your heart and love two persons at  the same time?  When one side of the triangle is shorter, the rest however, still becomes equal.  It can no longer be the perfect shape, but the two can now see eye to eye.
     One gives you a crystal heart. It is pure like his intentions, magical like his words, unbreakable like his promises and precious as his thoughts.  The perfect cut, the gem you would die for. He is such a sucker for Patience and Virtue, amazingly tolerant of your whims and flares yet never being overboard. "Too much too soon" makes it insignificant in the future.  Everything has its perfect timing. Give it a moment to sink in then you will agree that it’s worth the wait. It may even take years for you to agree, but always try not to do anything on impulse. The wolf is happily there to catch you, teeth and all.
     The other showers you with the earth.  Excitement, Risk and Loyalty make up his name.  He is the "unofficial", the fling, the challenger and the buffer. He is the face that reappears in your dreams every M-W-F. He patiently waits for your call, while he rearranges his malignant and troubled mind.  Light conversations come easy because deep ones bore him.  Maybe, he doesn’t want to let his guard down, hates to sound desperate and mushy when you give a little bit of yourself. He marks his territory, pretty wicked cool of him to even consider it. Lost in translation. You don’t consider him your top priority, yet you are concerned of his welfare. You want him to take a back seat and throw your fears away. But he continues to recycle after you discard him. He bounces back, the ever loyal fan.
     Both are so different in character, yet painfully charming. Your yin and yang. Both gives you butterflies in your stomach. Like comfort food, both satisfies your appetite and quenches the thirst. You repeatedly go back to it, fulfilling your satiety center. Can you exist without the other?  The pattern will go on until you make up your mind. You can love them both, on different planes and levels. But, someone has to take you to higher heights, to a place no one can tread except you and the Chosen One. Like an eclipse, one obscures the other like the sun eclipses on the moon. Then you can start to live your own little world of love…I have chosen and I wear his ring. Have you?

It can never be too cold at Forks...My hands tremble with thoughts of losing you. I sweat in spite of the freezing cold.  I can be too cerebral and over think it. My brain too consumed with those morbid flashes, sending the wrong signals. But, can it ever be right when someone leaves?

Each passing of the silver Volvo is punctuated by the distinctive squeal of brakes…My silver lining peeking through my endless twists and turns fails to mend the even bigger rainstorm coming. The puddles left make an imprint. The aftermath halts like thunder. Can those efforts stop the hurt you feel inside?

I remember the way you touch my face when darkness comes, those piercing topaz eyes more intent than before….I feel a shiver down my spine as I lay awake and forlorn. An insomniac, with no tranquilizers. My visions are just too real. Rewind and replay like downloading a video. A craving that eventually dulls my senses.The coldness of my bed to match the horror in your eyes as you watch me slowly become catatonic. Can you ever truly see me live once again?

His lullaby speaks no languages. A humming tune only for me…Tonight I hum alone. The sweet melody I have memorized by heart. Only my shuffle to keep me company in the coming nights. His voice keeps repeating in my ear. Much too incessant like tinnitus. Oh crap! I wish I can be more imaginative and start composing lyrics. And hear what I only want to hear. But, can you ever sing from your heart again?

Like a million diamonds you shine when the sun boasts of its splendor…I can only be blinded with the harsh reality of us together. My teeth clench every time I take a mere glimpse of you. You radiate in multicolored prisms stinging my eyes. Collective pleasures fleeting then become remote. No brightness to distract me from my delusions. Can you ever wrap your arms around me and keep me there?

He’s leaving. Where he is going ..It’s not the right place for you….No! Take my body, take my soul. Have me in any way, just take me. Desperate, insane, ridiculous and nauseating. It can never be a pretty package. And I’m not buying this… Yet time can be forgiving. You can always learn to cope, to believe, and to love again. Even if you start from the ashes.  I can live each day with the bruise. Will he ever come back?…Can you ever rise above your new moon?

When you can live forever, what do you live for?
LOVE. The most powerful emotion that transcends beyond mortality.  It grips, grows, and poisons the core of one’s being.  It allows you to fall, to commit mistakes, then to rise above it all.  You fake it, deny it, yet  abandon yourself all together when it’s too powerful to contain.
In your existence there is the ONE person who shares this enigmatic rollercoaster ride with you. Like circuits, he electrifies the most minute and innate connections. With your eyes more glaring than lightbulbs, he puts you on a frenzy, gives you an arrythmia, then sucks the daylights out of you. It is this overwhelming feeling of wanting, needing and living like a parasite to the most tempting host. Not any drug addiction can compare the highs of a human in love.
I had my share of Jacobs, always risking and believing that we can last a lifetime. I did believe but I cannot foresee. I cannot go beyond his promises and remain fulfilled. There were always questions, gaps and apprehensions. I learned to survive, then to die a little… then to let go.
There can only be ONE Edward. I found mine in the midst of zombiehood. Surely one can exist with a bland routine, but one can never truly breathe. I stopped searching. He came. He is that person who somehow reads my mind, finishing my sentences. He patiently listens to my diarrhea of words, always on the affirmative in spite of my stupidity. When I’m fierce, he lets me be knowing i would fizzle out when I’ve said my piece. With him, I have become a manipulative brat, a clinger too selfish yet awkwardly beautiful to deny.  He looks poker-faced, seemingly cold and distant to others. But he is just the opposite. He is warm and comforting. His smile can embarrass any toothpaste commercial model. For a fact, he is 80% like me. Reserve the 20% for his own uniqueness. We can jump off a cliff together confident he would save me from drowning. I can get lost in any forest assured that he would cover my tracks. Everywhere I go, he is there. Surprisingly, I am not pissed off. I want him to be there. Existing beyond my twilight.
Call it destiny or fate.  You meet  that ONE person, always halfway. You can see and feel it in your nerves when he comes. That ONE person…your Soul mate.

   Perfect fathers are worshipped, their replicas cemented on pedestals. Mine was cunning, conniving, and more or less atrocious. Responsible dads are forever visible on every occasion; mine never even walked with me down the aisle.
  Jurassic days with my dad were a blurr. During my formative years, Chandy ( i called him that) was fondly remembered as my driver to school, my math tutor (he was a whiz), my chess mentor ( he ate pawns and kings), my singing coach ( he loved "Usahay"), and my Shrink. When he left our dysfunctional family, we remained so. I only spent a quarter of my lifetime with him and the rest of the years were spent picking up the pieces. Every birthday, my only wish was his "welcome-back party". I stopped hoping. Like a thief, he would unexpectedly reappear and barge in my comfort zone and gave introductions to my half-siblings. Oh! he was generous with his genes, too. He managed to sneak me in his car and drove me to the hilltops at dusk. We would have our chitchats with bottles of San Migs. Since we never celebrated Christmases together, he proudly gave me the blanket of stars like lights on the trees.
  One glorious day, he bravely appeared at our doorstep, wearing his fave shoes (Mom’s once-upon-a-time gift). On bended knees, he asked forgiveness. It was surreal. This was a box office hit. Sincerity questioned, it may have fallen into deaf ears. You will be stunned, yet humbled. But, it was closure, nevertheless. Finally, the Godfather has set us free from the chronic pain. "I will not see you for a long time.",he said to me. For a moment, I did not panic. Maybe, i will see him in a decade or two. Perhaps, never. For the first time, somehow I felt whole again,for in my heart… this was his homecoming. Happy Father’s Day, Chandy.

I swore to myself that i would go out on a limb and get an all-time high when i’m 40. White river rafting was a long overdue agenda and i finally embraced the raging rapids with utmost bravery! The rapids were crazy at the Cagayan de Oro River and  i felt  my gut  regurgitating in every  wave. Initially, my apprehensions were greater than my expectations. But when our team (we called ourselves "The Spartans")overcame the first obstacle, nothing and yes, NOTHING stopped us from fighting the angry river.  Our ever composed guide who was Our Saviour coined a lot of terms with our maneuvers. "Merry-go-round" was when the raft went in circles, "Kiss-the-wall" meant that your face would literally kiss the stonewall when you’re trapped in a crevice, "Standing Ovation" when everybody stood on the raft and did our balancing act. And the last man standing was, you guessed it right..Our Saviour! Our newfound skill would embarrass any Houdinni. No more tricks to keep us alive, only bravery and invincibility.

In between the rapids, the calm waters were a temptation for swimming. Nature, in her Most Grand, kept me in a trance. It was serenity and peace, 2 real aspects still inherent in MIndanao. "Make love, not war" is every man’s outcry. I have never felt this peaceful in this so-called war-torn Mindanao. Yes, amidst the raging rapids, no less. When it was all over, i still felt my adrenaline rush. Like a Spartan, I shall return in heroic whispers. I exclaimed, "This is better than $%&!!!!… But Iko quickly protested .  Oh! I see..the greatest rapids lie  in the 4 corners of our  bedroom. Shhhhh…..

Marathon. I was watching American Idol last weekend to view performances that i have skipped or just wanted to see all over again. Never seen so much of AI til this season. I was actually on a brain freeze mode, never held a paintbrush for 2 days until last night.
I can never get enough of Lil David. His voice is raw and gritty. His pop version of the operatic "Think of Me" is pure and vacuums your soul into oblivion. The song is all over the place, in my shuffle, my bedroom, my car, at my multiply, and on this site. My kitkat, Ysa, unconsciously sings a phrase or two (due to constant repetitions) and  hopes Lil David wins. Chiara cried buckets for this song will soon remind her of goodbyes with Bindi.   Quite scary that my girls are on their pre-teens, and cute lil boys with Talent seem to amaze them. OMG!…
Let me sing this for you."Think of Me"…"there will never be a day when i won’t think of you"…sounds creepy yet sweet. Desperate yet hopeful.
"think of me waking silent and resigned"…an acceptance, another chance to move on.
"if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me"…a speck in your brain, a piece of your heart, a slip of your tongue, a line in your blog, the possibilities are endless…"think of me, just think of me…..

When hippie bro realized that i was such a leech, he had to scrape me off his skin real fast. We were on our own combat zones (flying knives and punches) til there was no tomorrow. I had to heed the call for diversion… I started being crafty. I made my own dollhouses and decapitated my barbies when i got bored. I was naturally fascinated with ugly rag dolls and feared the beautiful porcelain ones. The first rag doll i ever made was for a school project. She was proudly named "Crucify"( gingerbreadman-look alike with a lovely mop of black yarn hair and wobbly extremities).  I had to sew another one because my teacher exclaimed it was hideous! Worse, hippie bro made Crucify the lone bullseye on the dartboard.  I mourned for a month and had to have another diversion fast before i made a series of Crucifies. And so, i started …sketching. My pet dogs (Tilapia the Royal Mongrel and Bronson the Imported) were my fave subject simply because they always blocked the views of my other models. They were such vain dogs! When I was done, we spent the rest of the summer afternoons catching grasshoppers.
Today, i have a "gorgeous" Sally Doll (from Nightmare before Christmas) and still own a Royal Mongrel and a shih tzu (Chestnut and Bindi).  My girls don’t play with Sally (Mom’s It Doll)but share my passion with dogs. They have also inherited my talent for being crafty and artistic.   One thing for sure, they will never ever have to experience the perils of my childhood…but somehow, laugh about the idiosyncracies that go with it.

I turned 40 today.  There is a long list of firsts on my first day of being forty. Today, i made my first blog and went through a heart-skipping experience with it. Seems like it’s my first day to see a whole new world of discoveries and rediscoveries. I share this piece to the humans i dearly love and adore (save a space for my envious critics).
My photo album starts with the First Royal Family, the purebloods, so dense with Mom and Dad’s DNAs…the true ones rich in talent, attitude, and emotions. I can’t help but recall and experience once again the light and playful memories of my childhood (circa 70) with my one and only buddy,my bro.  We were like 2 peas in a pod… me sharing his white tees and khaki shorts and his all-boy games. i was dark (quaknet was my petname),tiny and sported a beatle haircut. Much worse,my fragile hair easily stuck to my greasy scalp. Oh, i was the forever-ugly duckling with no hopes of blossoming into the beautiful swan. Moklo (my bro’s petname) and I did a zillion things, mostly my firsts. I cut my finger while making a kite made of bbq sticks, fished out rubberbands from a mountain of mud, shoot basketballs til my tiny arms ached with too much extensions,raged wars with our snoopy neighbors and made our own royal wars truly heroic.
But, i do remember my rare girly moments when hippie bro disbanded from me. I shall return tomorrow for this hilarious adventure….