Tag Archives: grief

Hindi Ako To

20 Jun

Hindi ko pinili ang saktan ka.

Pero iyon ang resulta ng iyong ginawa.

Hindi ko ginusto na umiyak ka, bumagsak ang balikat, magmukhang kawawa.

Pero iyon ka, dahil kinumpronta.

Hindi ko ninais na mahirapan ka.

Pero ikaw din ang may sala.

Hindi ko naisip, na ako pa ang magtutulak sayo palayo.

Dahil ikaw, sinagad mo ako.

Hindi ko pinangarap na maging ganito–Kontrabida sa paningin mo.

Hindi ganito ang pagkatao ko.

Pero nilabas mo to.

Hindi masaya ang makita kang nagdurusa.

Pero sa bawat pagtanggi mo ng mga katotohanang alam ko na,

sa bawat hakbang para mapaniwala ako sa mga kasinungalingan mo

sa bawat “hindi” na ang totoo’y “oo”,

sa bawat “oo” na hindi naman magkakatotoo–

Nasasaktan ako.

Kasi mahal pa din kita kahit kinamumuhian kita.

At nakakalungkot, na alam kong mawawala din ang poot,

pero mabubura na ang tiwala, mapapalitan ng kirot.


I’ll Say It, So Stop

24 Jan

“I love you”, such beautiful words
I once believe them to be gems

Spoken rarely but truthfully

Now they have become like a “hello”
A greeting, a passing thought,

A careless slip of the tongue

A habit to pacify all things petty
“I love you”, it has become words

Same as “I’m fine” to “how are you’s”

Where you utter them to indulge curious minds

But totally lie about the inside
I’ll say it. “I’m fine”, so  don’t ask anymore

I’ll say it.  “I love you”, so you won’t ask for more.

No More

28 Jun

Behind this wall, I hear a family in grieving.

Two children fighting,

 for a father who isn’t living.

Two children arguing,

 “Father just spoke to us! He isn’t dying!”

Two children crying,

 “Papa!”, “Papa!” … until their voices start cracking.

Adults try to persuade them,

“Your father was only waiting for you, children. 

You had time together but he is no longer breathing.

Let go now, children. No more waiting.”

I was then I am

24 Jun

I was born and in a foreign land.
I was a baby and they flew me to my mother’s home.

I was 1 and we were one, my

mother, father and i but after awhile they left me behind.

I was 2 and i cried a lot.

I was 3 and still nurtured by my mother’s mother, my favorite in the world.

I was 4 and i wanted to be a doctor.

I was 5 and i remember singing to my parents in a tape recorder.

I was 6 and i moved to my father’s home where he stays for good.

I was 7 and i was disciplined.

I was 8 and i had friends and a first crush.

I was 9 and i left them all behind 

for a home to call our own; my father became my best friend.

I was 10 and betrayed by a friend.

I was 11 and i thought i talk less than a person should. 

I was 12 and fat. Didn’t know how bad but i had an adult friend, a mother-figure and i’m glad.

I was 13 and i met lasting friends, it lessens the pain when i think mama has not come home again.

I was 14 and i experienced young love in pain.

I was 15 and i don’t know what i want; the pressure for a course; and a resounding “no” for becoming a nurse.

I was 16 and alone again. Failed promises and unintentional course taking courses.

I was 17 and i had tasks to fill.

I was 18 and they have elected me a leader.

I was 19 and still going up the ladder.

I was 20 and opportunities come, i grabbed them all.

I was 21 and i was where i was supposed to be and pressured to pursue.

I was 22 and my father left me for good.

I was 23, the blackest year, a fallout with mother.

I was 24, thought i could escape from it all. I did but then no.

I am 25, escaped but not free. Out of purpose and lagging behind.

Its Time

22 Dec

On December 22, when i was 22,
I sent you a message at 2 asking, “How are you?”.
And you answered, “Just fine” and “When will i see you?”.
(Pero alam mo namang uuwi ako nun, di ba?)

At 7 that evening, i received a call.
At 7:30, inside a taxi, i sent you one last plea.
At 7:30, that same evening, in an ER 6hours away from me, a doctor said, “Time of death…7:30”.

Beginning and Ending

30 Jan

To whomever,

To feel so empty; so bereft when visiting a parent’s grave after coming from a wedding is very unsettling. It clearly doesn’t promise a positive day ahead.

My sensitivity this past few weeks tripled. Everything feels wrong. You’d think you’re becoming a monster, or something to that effect.

Shouting is so tempting. Just to free your mind. or relax.
You forget manners for the sake of silence or space or aloneness. People are so hard-headed. They just can’t leave a person alone.

A brooding look, a sigh, or even a frown would invite someone to pat your back and try to console you.

“That is life.”
“Everything is going to be alright.”
“I miss him too.”

You try to appreciate that but at that moment you just don’t care.
You just want silence and peace. You just want to be alone. Sympathy becomes unbearable because they could only irk you to no end.
Clearly, you don’t want sympathy because you know that already. You feel that already.

People are hopeless.
And more.

“He’s in good hands now.”
“He’s happy.”

Of course, i know that. That’s the only consolation i could think of. He had a good life.

I just want to miss him. Remember him. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to get over the fact that he’s gone. I don’t want to forget him.

When i cry, there could only be three reasons behind it. One, i’m missing the things he did for me. Two, i’m missing the things i could have done for him. And three, i’m missing the things he could have done for me.

If you could even miss things that haven’t even done, that is.

I realize my father, only him, brings out the best and worst of me. And i miss him so. I wanted him to be proud of me. I miss confessing to him and hearing he’s say on the matter. He’s the only one in my family i could accept criticism or even judgment without feeling defensive. His opinion matters to me.
His opinion moves me.

Hardheaded and hopeless,

Jan. 30, 2013

PS: Hoping.