NORBYGRAM: 2014

STRANGERS AGAIN

Daig ko pa ang isang kuting na nanginginig lakbaying mag-isa ang isang napakalaking iskinita na sa totoo lang ay maliit lang naman talaga kaso maraming tao at umuulan nang malakas. Kung kayo kaya yung kuting, anong mararamdaman niyo pag ganun? In short, takot ako. Ang haba-haba pa nung sinabi ko no? Takoot ako dahil ito ay bago para sa mga nakakakilala sa akin at sa mga masugid na tagasubaybay ng aking blog: NAGTATAGALOG AKO! Oh no. Never ko tong ginawa dati. Ang hina-hina ko pagdating sa ating sariling wika pero susubukan ko parin ‘to. ‘Wag niyo kong pagtawanan. Maraming mga salita siguro dito ang mali ang baybay at siguro andaming mali in terms of Filipino grammar, pero kapit lang. Brokenhearted ako. Kaya ko sinusulat to.

Andaming nagtatanong sa akin kung saan ko raw nakilala yung SS ko. Alam niyo yung SS? Hindi Social Security, hindi School Stuff, hindi Schutzstaffel – yung Army ni Hitler. Wag niyo kong lokohin. Di niyo talaga yan alam? Haha. Di rin yan yung initials niya. Asa ka pa. Significant Someone yan. Term para dun sa taong significant sa buhay mo. May klasmet ako nung college na kinukulit ako kung sino daw yung SS ko pero ayaw ko talagang sabihin eh. I want to keep things private. Gusto kong pribado yung identity niya. Sa sobrang kulit nung klasmet ko, naisipan ko dating magsinungaling sa kanya at sabihing na-meet ko yung SS ko sa isang super-duper secret gathering ng mga dakilang wattpad readers. HAHAHA. Tawang-tawa ako sa idea na yun. Di naman ako nagbabasa ng wattpad at naiinis ako dun sa mga teenage at highschoolers na kulang na lang ay sambahin ang wattpad. Pero yun ang unang sumagi sa isip ko kasi nasa bookstore ako nun at nakita ko yung isang gang ng mga studyanteng mistulang may audition sa PBB sa dami ng nakaharap sa stall ng wattpad books. Mabuti nalang di ko tinuloy yung pagsisinungaling ko sa klasmet ko, baka ano pang isipin nun. And I’m naturally honest talaga. Pramis. Haha.

Kahit na napakapribado nang relasyon namin, masasabi ko namang ang SS ang nagpadama sa akin ng bagong definition ng pagmamahal. Hep hep. Teka lang, ang OA pakinggan, parang high school all over again, sh*t, 23 na ako, ano ba ‘tong mga pinagsasabi ko. Hahaha. Andami kasi naming na-build together. Bahay, classrooms at mga simbahan. Hahaha. Joke lang. We’ve built our lives around each other. We talked about a lot of things. We stayed late at night, nagtetext, nagtatawagan, o nagPPM sa FB. We sang the same songs. Akala ko ako ang artista, dapat pala pinasali ko siya sa The Voice. Mas maganda ata yung version niya ng Thinking Out Loud kaysa kay Ed Sheeran. Di yan overstatement. Syempre, mas nararamdaman ko yung kanta pag siya yung kumakanta kasi para sa akin niya kinakanta. Kaya naman yun ang naging theme song namin.

Pero naghiwalay na kami. Nakakaschock ba? Ayoko nang ikwento yung nangyari. Basta ang gago ko. Period. Di ko alam kung nasakal ko na ba siya sa mga pinag-gagawa ko. Mas bata naman siya sa akin pero parang ako yung elementary kid kung mag-isip sa aming dalawa. Andali ko kasing mapikon at mabilis akong magtampo. Konting minuto lang na di ako narereplayan, nagiging paranoid na agad ako. Pagnagtetext o tumatawag ako at di sinasagot, nababaliw ako agad. Nag-iimbento na ang utak ko ng mga kung anu-anong bagay na di naman nangyayari. Pag na-seenzoned ako sa FB, naiisip ko agad na ayaw na sakin nung SS ko, na baka naghanap na siya ng iba. Nirereview ko lagi yung mga huling mensahe ko at ginagawan ko ng iba’t ibang rason kung bakit pwede siyang magalit dun sa mga sinabi ko kahit parang wala naman talaga siyang dapat ikagalit. OA di ba? Sa sobrang OA ko, dali-dali kong binubuksan yung laptop ko, nilalatag yung kumot, at ibabahay yung sarili sa kama habang nakikinig ng kanta nina Sara Bareilles at Sam Smith. “I’ll bow out of place to leave you some space for somebody new” yung hinihintay kong kantahin na linya ni Manang Sara tapos “this hurt that I’ve been through, I’m missing you, missing you like crazy” naman yung gusto kong tagos sa buto na linya galling kay Pareng Sam Smith. Pero may huli pa akong kantang dinadagdag dun. Syempre, Thinking Out Loud. Uulit-ulitin ko muna yung kanta nang isanlibong beses at hihimay-himayin yung “Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart” tsaka ako iiyak. I-a-unblock siya sa FB, magpapaload, tatawag, at magpapaliwanag sa lahat ng ka-OAhan, kagaguhan at katangahan ko sa buhay. Minsan-minsan lang din naman akong nagkakaganito. Mga once in two weeks lang. Madalas na ba yun? Di ko alam. Antagal na nung last relationship ko before nitong bago kaya anlabo na ng benchmark. Teka, ba’t parang sinasabi ko parin kung bakit kami naghiwalay? Pinaliguy-ligoy ko pa. Ang labo ko talaga, kitam?

Hanggang sa dumating na talaga yung puntong mas lumalim yung rason ng away namin. Dito na yung punto na sinabi niyang di siya handang bumalik sa akin at sasabihin na OK siya. That right there hit me to the bones. Antanga ko. Di ko narealize na not all people are as resilient as I expected them to be. May konti din naman akong hinanakit sa kanya. Di niya kasi sinasabi agad lahat nung issues niya with me, sinasarili niya, hanggang sa sumasabog siya and I can’t put back the pieces together. Medyo malalim na dito sa part na ‘to. Pag di ka na nakarelate, balik ka na lang sa dalampasigan, nalulunod na kasi ako, baka masama ka pa pag di mo na magets, di ka pa naman ata marunong lumangoy. Ayan, biglang ikaw ang inaway ko na nagbabasa ka lang naman. Halimbawa yan ng mood swings ko. Pasensya. Pero pag nakita ko ulit SS ko, sasabihin ko naman yung totoo sa kanya: apologetic ako at napatawad ko na siya sa lahat ng mga bagay that caused me pain. Sana nga lang ay napatawad na niya ako.

Ang hirap nga lang nung idea na magbabagong taon, single ka na naman ulit. Amputek this life. Yan kasi, tanga sa pag-ibig. Kaya naman di niyo ako masisisi kung bakit gustong-gusto ko ang English Only Please. Alam ng lahat na mahal na mahal ko si Jennylyn Mercado pero mas minahal ko si Tere Madlansacay sa movie na yun. Parang lahat ata ng tao ay makakarelate sa role niya. Medyo masakit na inexpect kong yung SS ko yung makakasama kong manood pero hindi nangyari. Siya sana yung katabi ko sa front row seats, or front row porches to be technically specific, sa cinema 6 sa Megamall. Siya sana yung kayakap ko habang kinikilig ako sa mga lines nina Jennylyn at Derek. Halakhak niya sana ang narinig ko habang pinagtatawanan yung lalaking biglang umepal sa may swimming pool habang nagdi-date/tutorial lessons sina Jennylyn. Mahahalikan ko sana noo niya nung umiyak na si Jennylyn habang muling nagkita sina Derek at Isabel Oli. Oooops, spoiler at PDA na ata to. Ok, next paragraph na. Hahaha.

Nung nagkakalabuan na kami, nakakabitter kapag nakakakita ka ng mga magsyotang nagPPDA. Hate na hate ko yung mga naka-couple shirt. Nakakabanas. Nung dumaan pa kami sa seaside sa MOA, maraming mga nag-uusap na magkayakap sa may sea wall. Naisip kong what if itulak ko kaya sila? HAHAHA. Joke lang. Di naman ako ganyan ka bitter. Pero isasuggest ko yun sa mga brokenhearted at bitter. Push niyo yan mga kapatid! Hahaha. Ang mahirap lang kasi sa mga sitwasyong ganito, bigla na lang nababakante ang isip mo at pumapasok lahat nung mga alaalang binigay sayo nung tao. Ansakit sakit isipin nung mga magagandang memories na unti-unting pinapalitan ng bad and painful ones in your mind. Yan kasi, may built-in powerpoint yung mga utak natin, ang galing magslideshow, crisp na crisp pa yung mga images di ba? High resolution. Tapos wala yung slide na “The End” or “Thank You” na may kasamang GIF na either cartoon or something na pambata sa bandang huli. Kasi yung slideshow sa utak natin, naka-repeat all. Ikot-ikot, ika nga. Ang masaklap pa niyan, kahit na natutulog tayo at dapat ay nakahibernate na yung utak natin, yung powerpoint nagiging movie maker. Hala. Bonggang bonggang movies ang ginagawa ng utak natin starring ang mga sarili natin at yung taong miss na miss natin. Tayo yung direktor at writer eh. Walang basagan ng trip. Ang gaganda na ng mga eksena, walang sumisigaw ng “cut” tapos feel na feel pa talaga. Tapos gigising ka. Tapos iiyak. Tapos mag-iimagine na naman. Tapos maghahanap ng libangan, pero papasok at papasok parin yung mga imahe sa utak mo. O di ba? Our brain is so powerful. Pero sa exam, di naman gumagana. Tanong ko rin yan sa sarili ko. Hay pag-ibig.

Nanganganib nang magtapos ang taong 2014 at mabwibwiset ka na naman sa sarili mo dahil gagawa ka na naman ng new year’s resolutions kahit deep inside that petty brain of yours, alam mong wala namang kwenta yung mga yun pero gagawin mo parin, baka sakaling may pag-asa pa. Kung single ka, gusto mong magkasyota na kasi napag-iiwanan ka na ng panahon. Kung taken ka naman, pilit mong iniisip kung may problema ba yung partner mo. Tapos the best time to think about your relationship status is when you cross one year to another: pagsalubong ng New Year. Yung mga single, atat na atat magchange ng relationship status sa Facebook. Yung mga taken naman na tina-tag sa Facebook yung “In a relationship with…” nung karelasyon nila ay di raw nagtatagal ng isang buwan ayon sa statistics. Natakot ka ba? Hahaha. Joke lang. Walang ganung findings.

Pagod na rin ako actually kakagawa ng New Year’s resolution. Tapos this year, magdadagdag pa ako ng bago na may kinalaman sa pag-ibig. Wala man akong karapatang magbigay ng payo tungkol sa pag-ibig, but I realized one thing this year: in order for me to love a person unconditionally, I should know first my own strengths and weaknesses so that I know where to place myself in a two-way journey called PAG-IBIG. And of course, always be honest and open. Nadadaan naman ang lahat sa matinong usapan.

O ayan! Nairaos ko rin ang blog post na ito! Nakakahiya! Hahaha. Ayan, pumapasok na naman sa isip ko yung SS ko. Tama na nga ‘to. Nawa’y maging mas mabuti at blooming ang inyong mga 2015!#

Share |

ETERNAL ANNIVERSARY III: NO MORE LIES

Essays from the Heart 4:34:00 PM

A very tender song that was once so close to my heart starts playing on the radio. “I knew that this moment would come in time that I’d have to let go and watch you fly”, that sober voice on ubiquitous speakers inside this coffee shop somehow finds a spot inside my head, down my memory lane, making me grin a little as I gulp down my latte for the second time. 5:30 pm habit. This is one of the few honest things left in my life.

After work every weekday, I drop by at this not-so-crowded shop wearing my tux and suede shoes. This cozily air-conditioned place with quiet strangers on other tables, smiling waiters and shy cashiers who have noticed me for quite sometime, and hopeless romantic love songs on the DJ-less radio every now and then, is the only place, in the heart of the metro, which still reminds me of my soul-searching in progress. I stare down at the laptop I brought beside the newspaper folded on the edge of the round, wooden table. My thoughts scramble. It’s not like my work’s that absurdly tiresome but there’s a part of me that wants to give up. I slouch a bit and recklessly lean on the cuddling couch while I intentionally position my face to be hit by the last rays of the sundown. I suddenly feel uncommitted to the big, transitioning city outside. I take a deep sigh. When will I stop feeling this?

I hear some recognizable footsteps nearing the cashier not so far from behind my couch. My mind begins to drift away but a voice that I used to love hearing pulls me back to my senses.

“Can I have two cups of mocha?” Her tone makes me stifle, panic and widen my eyes in unison.

“Yes, I’ll be taking them out,” she adds.

I close my eyes for a while and pray hard that the woman inside my head isn’t the same woman who is standing behind me now. I turn my head around as slowly as I never did my whole life. Purple high-heels. Knee-high executive skirt. Black and white office long-sleeves with leather blazer. Insanely straight, pitch black hair. White rose cheeks. Tempting eyelashes. Her stance is entirely different but her face still remains the same. She glimpses on my side and catches both two of my half-victorious, half-shocked eyes. I never saw this coming.

“Hey!” She speaks so naturally as she manages a smile I’ve always dreamt of seeing again. I feel a short-lived squeeze inside of me. There’s no denying it, my soul is panicking.

I throw her back the same word but in a slightly awkward manner. How can I not? When you finally see someone who has never failed to cross mind for the last eight years of your life, wouldn’t you be awkward? Awkward is an understatement. I am actually shaking, my hands are trembling. The last time we saw each other was when I told her that I didn’t love her anymore. I can’t remember the look on her face at that moment. When I saw her tears fall on the floor, my eyes never left the space between her feet and those tears. The truth however was that I just didn’t have the courage to tell her that I was scared I couldn’t put up a fight for her. I didn’t look up when she walked away not just because I was afraid of her leaving me. I was more afraid that I wouldn’t be able to move on. And I was right.

She then slowly walks towards me. My senses melt down. My spirit wants to break away. I try to swallow down the anxiety that is filling my throat while she comes near.

“Eight years and you still look pretty the same,” she casually comments as she walks around my couch. Words hover at the roof of my mouth for a second before I ask her to sit down on the couch next to me.

My first question is not exactly the same with the one I had been trying to concoct inside my minds moments ago, “So what brings you here in this city?”

She chuckles like a naive baby before she answers, “What brings me here in this city? Are you kidding me? This city called me to be here.” Her humor is still irresistible. She then reveals that the headquarters of her company relocated here a month ago and along with that was her work.

“And you? Where do you work here?” she asks me directly while she inclines her head involuntarily.

“Not far from this coffee shop. I work in an Audit Firm nearby. Been employed for over four years. It’s an interesting job, really.” I quip without second thoughts.

“Oh. Auditor! What else would you have been? So you’re really living up your dreams now. I always knew you would.” She smiles as looks at me straight in the eyes while she drops this line with a selfless tone.

Then I punch a line out of nowhere. “You know, I really missed you.” I lift up my cup of latte. I can see her stare closely at the cup near my lips. “I’m sorry for the last time. I hope I could make it up. The lost time?” I continue. As I put the cup back down on the table, the sunrays are now hitting her face. I am once again reminded why I fell in love with this woman. There is a shiver that strikes my entire system inside but I am so contained at this very moment that I feel unexplainably empty.

I notice her clench her bag then she looks even more serious at me. She takes a deep breath and slowly beams before saying, “You know, when you didn’t bother asking me to stay when I was leaving, I realized one thing. You weren’t afraid of losing me. You were afraid of yourself. But after all these years, you shouldn’t worry, I have long forgiven you.”

These words take their turns in pinching my heart with invisible, pointed objects and pulling them thereafter. A moment of long silence filled with almost fading memories of morning laughter, childish breakups, serious apologies and sweet forgiveness sweeps the little sanity that once flooded my head. Have I really been afraid of myself? At the back of my mind, something tells me that all I ever wanted is to remind her now of the dreams we both made and the future we both wanted to have. But it seems everything is falling off the edge of what is left between the two of us.

I recompose myself. “Again, I’m sorry. I wish I could turn back the time. If only…” I tell her wholeheartedly now but she hushes me and signals me to stop talking for a moment by raising her point finger. Her head wobbles as if she is anticipating for something to come or someone to arrive.

“Your coffee’s here?” I ask her. But then she just shakes her head.

“No. My husband and my daughter are here.” She tells me with an expression I last saw when I told her that we would be breaking up.

I refuse to look at my back. But when I see the sparkle of her smile, I finally turn my head. I see a man, perhaps just as tall as I am, carrying a pretty little girl with a pink dress and a cute white, feathery headband. Her father drops her off and she rushes to her mother. After what seems to be a century-deprived embrace, the little girl is lifted into her mother’s arms. This little lady resembles some eyes I used to stare, nose I used to pinch and cheeks I used to lay my tender kiss upon. This little lady is the exact little version of the woman who was once mine.

“Who is he, Mommy?” the little girl asks while she clutches her teddy bear looking at her mother.

“He’s an old friend from College, baby.” She tells her baby while she smiles back.

“How… How old is she?” I stutter as I try not to think about what or how I feel about this.

“I am four years old. What’s your name?” the little girl responds to me in a mature-sounding voice.

“Honey, I think we have to go.” The man who carried the little girl approaches us now and takes the kid back in his arms.

“My husband,” she points out to him. Her husband shakes my hand. I am about to say that it is nice to meet him but he suddenly says something that even surprises me more.

“I know who you are. It’s good that I have finally met you” her husband speaks in a refined tone reflecting how he wears his suit and tie. I am about to say the same to him but I decide to offer him back a smile. It’s the least I think I can do.

“My coffees are here. See you soon,” she tells me while they walk away from my couch. I smile. But while they walk away, I bow down slowly like I did at that last moment with her in college. I look down on the floor and this time, it’s my tears that I am about to see on the floor.

Wiping out my watery eyes, I look at them while they head out of the door. The husband opens the door. The little girl looks back at me and waves goodbye. And lastly, that very woman smiles at me as she slowly taps her husband’s back and squeezes her daughter’s tiny nose.

Just like that. They are gone. It’s true that when you care so much about some things, they stay with you. Since I still care so much but it was too late, she is gone.

I sit back down. I try to reinvent myself and recall every little thing that happened minutes ago. The way she looked, the way she spoke, the way she answered my question, and that moment when she knew that I would see her new family – all these images play like a hesitant slideshow inside my head. When I look outside, the sun has already gone down.

Moments later, I have been closing my eyes in contemplation when another woman comes. She rolls her arms around my neck then lays a kiss in my right cheek to surprise me. She asks me to move aside so she can sit beside me. This woman right here has some qualities with the woman I was talking with minutes ago. This may have been the reason why I like her. But before I do or say something else, I try to kiss back this woman - my fiancée.

I roll the engagement ring in my finger and look at her closely.

“Honey, there’s something you need to know”, I am about to start a very long explanation and confession. This time, I promise, there are no more lies.#

Share |

ETERNAL ANNIVERSARY II: DEAR NOVEMBER

emotional 1:36:00 PM

Even if I really hate wearing my Chuck Taylor that is as old as my mother's complaints about my hardheadedness, I still wore that pair of blue high-cut converse shoes to walk my way under an immortalizing indigo horizon of that one very special afternoon of November exactly a year ago. Here I am. Still wearing the same old weary shoes, a faded dark semi-skinny jeans, a black French-made polo shirt, a hand-made necklace with a silver half-moon pendant, a 3-year old khaki guitar on my back, a Tom Cruise-inspired hair and a smile I never force to fake. I have to look good. She is waiting.

Gladness fills me as I see people now while I am walking on the streets. I see the traffic enforcer signal the vehicles telling them that he's off and another one's replacing him, the tan-skinned kids with their big bags and dirty school uniforms run and laugh while exchanging jokes going home, the stall owners pack the goods calling it a day while some customers make a last-minute purchase, and old couples hold hands, walking and smiling back to me as I meet them on the way. Our clock is indeed ticking fast, I tell myself. You take a breath in and before you breathe out again, millions of things are changing in this wide universe. I check the time on the Swatch on my left wrist. 5:03 pm. I am not late. 10 minutes she said is the grace period. There she is. I see her. Man, she's still beautiful. She always is.

I sit down close to her. I try not to do things wrong again. I maybe rich in dreams but I'm not a millionaire when it comes to chances. I remember her again telling me that if I have something serious to tell her, I should sit so that I can see the world wider. So I sit in the ground. The world is never bigger here. I finally smile and ask her, "How are you doing? Still feeling cool, huh?" I then touch her face the way she loves. Like I was spreading my palms gently on a blanket I can never sleep without. "Happy Birthday! Getting older aren't we?" I continue. She is always like this. She doesn't answer. But I feel her. And whatever. I love her.

I fetch the guitar from my back and before carefully taking its cover off, I first zip the pouch inside then fish the letter I made for her last night. "It took me almost 4 hours to finish this letter but it took me almost 2 weeks finding your requested lavender scent to be perfumed in this paper." I complain jokingly as I unfold the letter and lay it on the ground. I place the guitar and ready myself to play her High School favorite acoustic melody. I don't need any word to begin. My heart knows it's now time to start plucking and read the letter aloud to her. I know my heart can sing some lyrics it always wants her to hear. I know she won't speak and will just listen. She will always listen.

The letter goes:

"If I could spend an entire day just looking at your face, that would be better than all birthday presents I had all over the years. If I could just comb your hair by my hand every morning as your eyes shine along the early rays of the sun, it would be something lovelier than leaves swaying down on Spring season. If I could just carress you tight and put my chin on your shoulder as we watch the moonlight together silently with the winds breezing some timely tenderness, it would be more romantic than any other beautiful love song the world has ever heard. You know I love you. Since the day you came into my life then started making a fairy tale I only saw in movies, my heart has always belonged to you. You are special. Your love is immeasurable. I don't know how I can be where your love is. I made promises. See? Look at me. I am changing. I'll tell the world that it's you. I became like this because of you. Thank you for changing my then trivial and useless existence. Thank you for bringing my lost soul back to me. Thank you for letting my heart grow. Thank you for filling what was missing. And thank you for letting me live my life again. Your words are my divine sunrise and your smiles are my undying sunset. In another life, I promise you that we'll still be together. So to the woman who says she has nothing but for me she is everything, Happy Birthday! Change isn't the only permanent thing in the world. My love too. Believe me, I will ways love you."

I fold the paper again and stop playing the song. I pull another thing from the cover of my guitar. Red roses. I look at her eyes now. There she is. The world's purest lady. Still smiling. Not fading. Endless. I kiss her. I kiss her pale cheek. I kiss the photograph on top on her grave. I place the flowers in front of the frame. Been six years now but nothing's changed. "It's getting pitch dark baby. I'll see you soon. Soon." I stare at her for long. She's forever here in my heart. She forever will be.

6:09 my wristwatch declares. I am leaving the cemetery now, better be home. #

Share |

A BEAUTIFUL INTERLACE

Essays from the Heart 2:58:00 PM

My father once told me that when I was a kid, I already memorized one piano piece before I learned how to speak. He said that when he saw me so delighted playing it, he felt like “every soul that gets lost in this vast universe can find its way back home.” Those were his exact, profound words. Until now, I am still not convinced that in a perfect sense, I grasp what he wanted to mean. But with everything that I have been through, I’d like to tell my father that every soul that gets lost in this vast universe will always find its home indeed. But there are two things more important than being home when your soul has wandered –ACCEPTANCE and REDEMPTION.

Pianos have always been the other half of me. My fingers press, my mind drifts away and my heart gets emptied. Playing a song is just like the cycle of one’s life.

When I sit on a chair near a piano,it means I am about to start living. Birth.

I place my fingers on top of the keys to signal that I am ready to make music. Childhood.

Then I press the keys and start to make shifts that can either be intricately beautiful or utterly ugly. Growing up.

Then I press harder, faster or slower. This is the song’s highlight that depends on the melody I play - that point in life where we realize what type of existence we have lived or why we even started playing.

I am old. Fighting cancer is not pretty.I face darkness every time I breathe. I have no one to spend the rest of my seemingly predetermined life. Most of my days lately have been spent in my room playing the piano for hours. I never stop. I reject the idea of death so I fight back. I feel obliged to tell a story no one may even care about. But this is more than the music. This is about something bigger, something more abstract and something that doesn't need explanation but just some space. It’s something I want to call A Beautiful Interlace.

Here’s my story.

Gradual blindness was an unexpected consequence after I was diagnosed with lung cancer last 2009. This disease caught me off-guard. I never even smoked a single stick of cigarette my entire life. Life. Oh, life. It is indeed more than a box full of surprises. It takes you to places you don’t want to go and it diverts you to paths you never even planned to take. What’s even more ironic is that I am a doctor. Or at least I was. I should have known better how I could have a disease like this. I worked as a physician for thirty five years and I stopped due to many other life complications apart from cancer. My parents have died a long time ago. My siblings have their own families abroad. My contact with them is not that frequent. I just have few people who take care of me. I pay them for their menial jobs here in my quite large, deafening home. The walls of this house seem to feed me stories of my past that need to be told while I play this song on the piano right now. They whisper agonies of my despicable loneliness.Yet, I don’t feel less of myself. I have already had my own share of love and selflessness.

But that’s many, many years back.

This may come as a surprise to you but I actually got married. I have four kids. My wife died of a car accident last 2010. What’s harder for me to carry is the thought that I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral. It’s my children who barred me from coming. My eldest child is a physician as well. He’s got a family with two children. He and his wife who is a History teacher are living in Texas. My second child, the only daughter I have, is a single-mother who works as an accountant in Canada. She moved to California together with her 4-year old daughter when her mother and I got divorced. My third and most favorite child, my 31-year old son is a lawyer who owns a large chain of beach resorts miles away from where I live. Of all my children, he was the one who I thought would not leave me. He was the last person who would abandon me, I used to think. But I was wrong. I've even heard rumors that he wants to have his last name changed legally as soon as possible. A lawyer with all those legal stuff in mind. He is my son indeed. The last name I have handed to him by right must now feel like a disease to him. It broke my heart when I heard of it. True or not, just with the thought that the has come up with this idea, it already gives me an insurmountable paternal pain. But God left me one with wondrous possession when I got separated with my wife. My fourth child, the one with Down’s syndrome and the one who used to never leave his mother’s side, refused to leave this house when everyone else did. His mother kept on dragging him out. When he would realize that they would reach the door, he would bite his mother’s arms and rush back to my room. It was something very odd because all these years back, I tried to be the best father to him but he wouldn't be as joyful as he was with his mother. I am proud of all my children. I hope they will still feel the same way when I’m gone.

By the way, I cheated on my wife. I had a relationship with a younger woman, a nurse from the same hospital I used to work in. I enjoyed communicating with this woman through the phone. We have actually reached that point where our text messages got too romantic and unconventional.We had secret meetings and private conversations. Those moments with her didn't give me remorse at first. Little did I know that it would be my life’s next downfall.One morning, I caught my son, the one with Down’s syndrome, holding my phone. He was laughing while his mother was beside him. They had been watching something on my phone before I found them. That moment, it already hit me what they were looking at - the text messages and worse, the pictures of that woman and I together. I always thought I could hide that phone from them.My wife looked at me with hostility. It was something she never did all the years of our marriage. She then swore all words she could ever say and threw at me all objects she could grab. It was the last day I ever talked to her. She would never speak to me again. Not even in the last few moments of her life.

People have been judging me – a cheater, a worthless father, a family destroyer, a pervert, and all other things. I bet I heard every label people used on me. It was on 2002 when my wife knew that I was cheating on her. We were legally separated immediately on 2003. I tried my best to work normally. I would go to the hospital like nothing happened. But every time I walked in the hallways, it’s like I could hear people’s thoughts and gossips bounce through the walls echoing my way. I could handle the latent public shame but when my children started to abandon me, all the people around them were asked to do the same. It was the only logical road I could go down - stop working.

With the money I saved all those years and with my youngest son, I thought I could live the rest of my life happily. We went to several places trying to cover the pain of life with adventures outside.With all the places we went to, I saw purity with my youngest son’s happiness. He would exhaust himself all day so at night, I would just stare at him while I wrote essays and composed piano pieces. I never knew I loved my son that much. I tried every day to communicate with my other children to ask for their forgiveness. But they seemed to have forgotten their father. Painful as it might seem, the days of trying turned to weeks, then months, then years and then to almost nothing. In 2007, my youngest son, the one who has never left my side, the one with Down’s syndrome, died at home. He has finally surrendered. That was when I knew that with every song I would play thereon, I would forever be alone. There would be no one to listen to the songs on the piano. But before my son died, I was able to confess to him something I never told anyone before.

What if I tell you that way back in medical school, I had an affair with my roommate who eventually became the best man in my wedding? Yes, you heard it right. I don’t know where it all started. I never thought of having a relationship with someone of the same gender.Not at all. Not until I realized that days were so gloomy without him. Not until I noticed that not being with him was excruciating. Not until I figured out that I feel complete when we exchange talks, laughter and even pain. Not until I fell for him. It was fate’s work, I thought. I knew it was fate.

I was so afraid that he would turn his back on me if he knew that I felt something odd towards him. We were more than brothers. We treated ourselves more than that. Wherever I was, he was also there. When he needed me, I was there for him. I knew his whole family, he knew everyone in my life. Right after we took our medical licensure exam, I confessed to him at the risk of being erased from his life. But I still did. Then he just laughed at me. He told me that he thought, all those years, we were already having a relationship because he felt the same way. I realized that my love was requited. It was very ecstatic. All emotions came rushing to fill my already racing heart about to explode. With one long and tight embrace, I admit it was probably the best day of my life.We started working on the same hospital. We even moved together in the same house. I felt that our love for each other on those early years of our career grew exponentially. Like it defied every boundary ever known in existence. But God had another plan.

He was asked to follow his parents in Australia. Even if I begged him not to go, he could no longer change his parents’ decision. There was nothing both of us could do. We started a long-distant relationship. But eventually, it failed. For me, all relationships with long distances always fail. He wouldn't respond to my mails. Later on, the idea of him felt like something I never had. He literally stopped existing in my life. I lived like something big was missing. Four years after he flew to Australia,I got an email stating that I was invited to his wedding. My tiny world was shaken. I did fly to Australia and attended his wedding. He didn't say anything to me before the wedding apart from his words, “This is the right road.”With one long and tight embrace, I admit it was the worst day of my life. My heart crushed into pieces as many as the days we were together. I was forced to also tread the “right road” and do the same thing. God really had another plan.

I finally met someone to marry. My wife was a businesswoman who conducted transactions with a colleague from the hospital I worked in. When my wedding day came, as expected I invited my best friend to my wedding as well to be the Best Man. But unlike his reprieve during his day, I met with him somewhere private as soon as he arrived here. I cried my heart out and told him all the suffering he’s caused me all those years. He saw me cry. I watched as the remorse finally got into his eyes.That night, his words reminded me why I fell for him. His slowly expressed guilt reminded me why I had to accept all his faults no matter how bad they were. But his entirety, his presence made me think why I love and will always love him unconditionally. Our love never failed, I could feel it. But we had to suppress it. We knew we had it coming. So we made love for the last time. It started with one long and tight embrace, then I admit it became the most unforgettable night of my life.

The day after that, on my wedding day, I promised myself not to think of something unusual again towards him. But I never succeeded. It even grew fonder all these years. Wherever he is right now, I wish he knew that until the day I die, I still keep the same feelings towards him. I have never been with someone whose soul is as beautiful as his. I can never let the image of him in my mind drift away. That would be the end of me.

You may wonder why I cheated on my wife when all along, I had a strong emotional attachment to a man from my yesterday. That young nurse, though she is a woman, reminded me of my best friend so much. There’s this strange way in their smiles, manner of speaking, the way they carry themselves and their wit that are unbelievably similar. It is really unacceptable that I loved someone because she reminded me of a love that never succeeded. But I guess this is how fate weaves our lives. It doesn't care which strand has the same color with the other, all it does is creating one interlace with these strands that will look beautiful. That is what every life is. It is always beautiful.

After everything that has happened to me, I can say that my mantra in life has never changed. It is “Never fail to follow your heart”. Choices in life are boundless. You can never expect what you’ll have or what you’ll become based on the things that are around you right now. You may be deprived of things you have always wanted and these things may not come to you.But you will have your own. We have been given the gift of knowledge to decide things on our own and to give meaning to everything that we have been through. The next step to make the best use of this gift is to keep it. Keeping it is what we call faith. We just need to hold on something and believe in it even if it seems that the rest of the world conspires not to provide it. We may not have all our heart’s desires but if we keep on making use of the gift and continue on keeping the faith, trust someone like me, who often feels all emotions at the same time, when I say that you will truly realize how beautiful life has always been. No matter what your definition of beauty is, life always has it - each distinct, each tailor-made, each calculated. Take a look back. You can’t question the type of life you have. You just need to go with it. Again, never fail to follow your heart. If you do, I guess you’ll have the same feeling every single time I contemplate– that feeling like you are in the arms of an angel. You feel like you are found but the warmth proves that you were never lost.

I woke up one morning last September 2011 and I realized that my once deteriorating eyesight has already reached its breaking point. I had it coming. At that moment I realized I was already fully blind, I cried with silent tears. Those were the tears of acceptance. After crying, I laughed hard. I have had enough of seeing the world that I am in. For some reasons, I sometimes preferred the darkness so my blindness didn't come as much as a curse to me. Having a cancer follows the same pattern. So before I leave the face of this earth, I just want to ask forgiveness for everyone whom I have caused pain especially my children and even my late wife. They should know that I never stopped loving them. I don’t question God anymore. I never did. I just lived. I just loved. Every single thing was part of my existence. I am near my last stroke. I am running out of strand.This is the last part of my melody. But I will live until my last pace.

This is my life and this is my song – A Beautiful Interlace.#

Share |

STRANGERS AGAIN

ETERNAL ANNIVERSARY III: NO MORE LIES

ETERNAL ANNIVERSARY II: DEAR NOVEMBER

A BEAUTIFUL INTERLACE

Search This Blog

About Me

recent posts

Blog Archive

Popular Posts

Instagram

Nuffnang

Followers