The Pain of Loss

"What hurts me the most is that I know he didn't want to die. He had so much to live for. Why did we have to go through all those trials when in the end, he'd be taken away from me..."

This is what my friend said while we were talking about Mike, her husband.

She just didn't have the time to prepare herself for that huge loss in her life. Some people have that blessing, but not her.

The night he died, her cellphone rested on top of their bed's side table. Mike was outside their room. She shouted at him to set the alarm on her cellphone because she was going to wake up early the next day. That night was that mundane. She went to bed and a couple of hours later, she heard him screaming.

"I was that dependent on him. I could have set the alarm myself but I still had to ask him to do it for me."

Mike agreed.
Sadly, he never got around to setting the alarm.

"That's how I know he did not come to bed."

There are people who are taken from us so suddenly. Even they, themselves, did not have time to prepare for it -- for death. It truly is heartbreaking to see the pain they left behind.

Anyway, these are my depressing thoughts for tonight. Ironically, my thoughts have been provoked by this movie I just finished watching.

It's Hilary's Swank, P.S. I love You.

The Synopsis:

Holly Kennedy is beautiful, smart and married to the love of her life - a passionate, funny, and impetuous Irishman named Gerry. So when Gerry's life is taken by an illness, it takes the life out of Holly. The only one who can help her is the person who is no longer there. Nobody knows Holly better than Gerry. So it's a good thing he planned ahead.

Before he died, Gerry wrote Holly a series of letters that will guide her, not only through her grief, but in rediscovering herself. The first message arrives on Holly's 30th birthday in the form of a cake, and to her utter shock, a tape recording from Gerry, who proceeds to tell her to get out and "celebrate herself".

In the weeks and months that follow, more letters from Gerry are delivered in surprising ways, each sending her on a new adventure and each signing off in the same way; P.S. I Love You.

Holly's mother and best friends begin to worry that Gerry's letters are keeping Holly tied to the past, but in fact, each letter is pushing her further into a new future. With Gerry's words as her guide, Holly embarks on a journey of rediscovery in a story about marriage, friendship and how a love so strong can turn the finality of death into a new beginning for life.

It truly is a beautiful, beautiful story. It's not just your typical chick flick. It's a bittersweet story that would have you crying and laughing and crying and laughing all at the same time.

I did.

But I can't help but think how unfair it was for my friend to lose her husband like that. I wish she could have had Holly's story. I wish Mike has 10 letters prepared for her.

"I know that the toughest part will come. When this (the funeral) is all over. I wish this could go on and have this wake for years and years. I just don't want to bury him. He has left this void -- I know, that will never be filled."

Sadly, Mike does not have letters for Irene.
Not a single one.

I wonder what's harder losing someone who did not want to leave or losing someone who wanted to leave?

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Ken Lee

Having a lousy day?
You have got to watch this.
IT IS. HILARIOUS!

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Disciplining Your Child

Two little boys, a1ges 8 and 10, are excessively mischievous. They are always getting into trouble and their parents know all about it.

If any mischief occurs in their town, the two boys are probably involved. The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys.

The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8 year old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon.

The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Do you know where God is, son?".

The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open.

So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God?!".
Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "Where is God?!"

The boy screamed and bolted from the room, ran directly home and hid. When his older brother found him, he asked, "What happened?"

The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied,
"We are in BIG trouble this time. "GOD is missing, and they think we did it!"

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Weapon Against Ghosts and Nightmares

Yesterday, I was working late and I realized that I had seen a dead man's body that day. It was Mike but he was dead nonetheless.

A believer in ghosts (because I've seen them so many times before), I freaked out and decided to sleep. So, I jumped into bed with my husband. It was so hot so I asked my husband to move a little but to make sure he had his back touching mine.

This is a weird habit of mine.

I grew up without my Mother. So, my sister and I were forced to watch each other's back even against ghosts and bad dreams. We shared the same bed when growing up and when one of us is scared we'd usually positioned ourselves with our backs against each other.

I have carried this habit to adulthood.

One time, I happened to talk about this with her and she was laughing because she still shares the same habit. It's funny how much your childhood could influence you huh?

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An Update

It was not easy. You could say I was in an extreme emotional seesaw.
Both of my friends were in the same hospital. One was in the operating room; the other in the Morgue area waiting for her husband's body to be released.

I first went to the latter. Seeing her, I was just so devastated by her loss. Irene loves her husband a lot. Often, I'd see them going home from school (she was a Law school classmate/good friend). Mike would fetch her and they'd walk home holding hands. Mike was Irene's soul mate, best friend, confidant, and great love. We used to spend hours talking about Mike and Adrian (their son).

Walking in the morgue area, I saw Irene who stood up, embraced me and started crying. It was really, really devastating. Beside us in a room with an open door, laid Mike. His skin was blackened and his hands were frozen.

By that time, they were ready to move Mike. So, I decided to just follow them after visiting Lynette, my other friend, who was in the same hospital, giving birth. I did not stay long because they were leaving the hospital. So, I decided to go to Lynette's room.

I felt guilty about going to Lynette to celebrate the life of her baby when Irene just lost her husband.

The operation took longer than expected because they found a cyst when they opened her up. The doctor had to excise the cyst as well. In a matter of minutes from leaving Irene's side, I was waiting with Lynette's family. The mood was excited, joyful and anticipatory. People were happy. In a few minutes, I went from mourning death to celebrating a new life.

And I did. I celebrated the life of Nathania Lexie -- a really, really cute baby who has a disposition like her mother (who was never known to have a good disposition).

It's funny. You can mourn death and you can celebrate life all in one Monday morning. However, the truth is that we can continue to celebrate our lives each and every day. It is a conscious choice that we have to make. On the other hand, you also choose to stop mourning death. But no matter, how much time has passed, you can never truly get over the loss of someone you love. The pain will ease but the void will never be filled.

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Living and Dying

I woke up at around 7 am.
Paige was already awake and was demanding for her "dada" (her favorite mickey mouse pillow) and her "mamam". (a bottle of milk).

I was geared up for work today and I was planning of going to the hospital to visit my friend who is going to give birth to a baby girl today. I was really happy about this one because she lost her last baby (a week after she gave birth) which was really devastating for her.

She did not have an easy pregnancy with this baby. She had to go on a complete bed rest for months and months. So, I'm really hoping they'll pull through and they'll both be fine. She waited for two years for another baby after she lost the first one.

Anyway, after fixing Paige her "mamam", I heard my cellphone buzzed.

"Please pray for Mike's soul. He passed away this 12 am". -- the message read.


I was going, "Oh my god. Oh my god." over and over again.
It was a text from another good friend whose husband just passed away this morning.
I was deeply saddened by that news. I liked Mike. He was a good man. He loved my friend like crazy. He was a good father and a good husband. And he was barely 27 years old. I still do not know if he died from complications of his diabetes.

All I know is that I have two friends --
one celebrating a life.
one mourning a death.
It happened and it will happen all in one day.

It's funny. I am once again reminded of my mortality and everyone else's mortality.
I am also reminded of how little time is there left for all of us to truly lived a fulfilled life.
We can't be consumed by anger, hatred, greed, envy or bitterness.
There is so much to life that we should be grateful for and there are so many people we have to love before we lose the chance.

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The Priest

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak. After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done.

The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous I take a sip."

So the next Sunday he took the Monsignor's advice.

At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink.

He proceeded to talk up a storm. Upon return to his office after mass he found the following note on his door:

1) Sip the Vodka, don't gulp.

2) There are 10 commandments, not 12.

3) There are 12 disciples, not 10.

4) Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.

5) Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.

6) We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.

7) The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy, Junior, and Spook.

8) David slew Goliath, he did not kick the shit out of him.

9) When David was hit by a rock and knocked off his donkey, don't say he was stoned off his ass.

10) We do not refer to the cross as the Big T!

11) When Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper he said, "Take this and eat it, for it is my body", he did not say, "Eat me."

12) The Virgin Mary is not referred to as the, "Mary with the Cherry".

13) The recommended grace before a meal is not: "Rub-A-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yeah God"

14) Don't refer to Jesus and the 12 disciples, as J.C. and the boys

:)

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I'm OK

I seem to be making everyone worried with my last post. I'm considering deleting it but I like the "worried" comments. I even got a hug and a cake from Sher. I'm okay. I was just being my nasty self when I posted the last entry. I was just having fun. As you know there is this person who loves to read my blog. She gets mad when she reads bad stuffs about her. So, I do not want to disappoint her. I think she gets her excitement from my blog.

Anyway, I've been quite busy and I'll be attending a wedding this afternoon.
I'm also in-love with my niece. It's funny how you could love a small being who doesn't do anything but giggle and smile at you, huh?

I'll visit everyone's blog later on when I finally have time to breathe. Actually, I visit all your blogs daily. I just don't have the time to comment. :)

Love u all!

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Ranting

He deleted you from his account. I did not tell him to. I know you probably think I did. Well, you'd think that because you think that's what insecure people do. Insecure? I wonder why you think that. I won -- if there ever was a contest. Sadly, there never was.

Anyway, He didn't want you in his list in the first place. I was the one who added you and I was the one answering your messages. I was nice because I pitied you. I still do.

Why did he delete from his list?
You were starting to irritate him again. He thinks you're like this fungus that just wouldn't die.

Are you still reading this?
You should have stopped a long time ago. I would if I were you. I'd get a life.

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Getting the Genes? Nah!

Genes show. In the case of my mom and her granddaughters, they really show!

Here are pictures of my mother with Paige and Cori. These were taken last Saturday when the family went swimming.

Obviously, Cori's color screams, "I'm freaking Australian mate!"
But what is common between the three of them?








A few tufts of hair.
:)

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Just sharing

They make my day.
Well, that is if Dawn's blog
does not do the trick.

My daughter --













and my niece, Cori













They never fail to make me smile!

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Brian Gorrell and DJ Montano

You've all probably heard about Brian Gorrell and his blog.

Brian Gorrell, the Australian who was duped by his Filipino ex-boyfriend, the same HIV-positive gay who sent his ex $70,000 USD for their supposedly "business" here.
His ex-boyfriend, DJ Montanta, is a member of the country's (Philippines) elite.
In order to force Mr. Montana to pay him back, Brian started series of expose about the Philippines' elite -- describing a story of extravagance, sex and drugs -- all the dirty stuff.

I started reading his blog. The posts are long, but they're completely addicting. Brian's posts is dangerously sinful. You get suck in. You end up wanting to know more.

For instance, he talked of Tim Yap. Yap and his uber-coolness is suddenly unmask. Brian revealed the Tim Yap that the rest of the country does not know of -- the guy who uses drugs, loves extravagance, and sometimes could just be a plain asshole.

Brian's blog is addicting.

It reveals the truth about this country. The stench has started to smell. Bad.
By the way, everyone is taking sides and giving their opinions. I believe Brian Gorrell. He might be stupid for giving Montana all those money. He should have stopped somewhere before it reached $70,000 - but this doesn't remove the fact, that Montana is an thieving ass.

P.S. Jinky, I believe this post meets your approval. hehe

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Another Mushy Post

I could list a lot of reasons why I love being married to my husband.

One of them is having him right beside me to turn to whenever I have nightmares.

Before we got married, when I'd have nightmares, I'd immediately call him up on the phone and he'd spent a few minutes soothing me back to sleep.

Now, when I'd have nightmares, I could just immediately scoot over closer to him, have him wrap his arms around me, kiss my forehead and I'd immediately go back to sleep.

Those are just one of the millions reasons why I love being married to him.

By the way, forgive the mushy stories. I just love sharing all these things to his ex who's an avid reader of my blog as you all know. Who am I to disappoint?

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A Good Day Indeed!

It's one in the morning. I haven't been sleeping well for the last couple of days, so I told Erbe I had to catch a few winks earlier this evening.

"Just a couple", I said.
"I'd wake up soon enough to finish my work." I added.
Unfortunately, the "couple" of winks turned into thousands -- practically the story of Rip Van Winkle, you might say.

So, here I am forcing myself to wake up just so I can work.

I had a good day. I think Floog's Ramblings or rather "online book" where he featured me in Chapter Eight made my day. It was fun being described the way he described me. Albeit, it's wrong. (Laughing hysterically). I really like the description of the Oriental Miss, doe eyed and eternally graceful. In actual truth, I am the opposite. I liked the description though so I just corrected Floog on the height bit. I had to inform him that I'm 5'8" instead of 5'5".

Anyways, Floog's post made my day. Truly. Thanks, Floog! I noticed though that I got good treatment.*grinning from ear to ear. No wonder, Tamera made a comment about this. You just had to insist on the big check part as well, huh? Just kidding! I love your work. I got good write-up, you might say. Who am I to complain???


I went out to pamper myself this afternoon. I got a hair spa, a pedicure and a haircut. The latter I got from a great looking mate. That was pure torture. My husband is not bad looking. In fact, he looks better. But that was the first time an honest to goodness hetero actually cut and styled my hair. And damn, he did it better than anyone ever had! I was uncomfortable though, having this good-looking hetero doing all the hair primping. I was thinking while pretending not to be thinking, "Is he worth the bother next time?" HE was! Pretty damn good for a hetero-guy hair stylist.

He was flipping and cutting bits and pieces and I really liked what he did! I went home and gushed about him to Erbe. I said, "If I'm not married, I'd look for a guy who could cut my hair like that!" It'd be really convenient, don't you think?

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Charice Pempengco at Oprah

She's done it again. She wowed London. I just wish though she didn't sing the same songs she sang at Ellen Degeneres.



And guess what? She'd be guesting at Oprah! She'd be a guest! And all I wanted was to sit in the audience. Click to watch the Teaser. It's amazing!

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One Great Love

Earlier, a friend told me something that I found really interesting. Apparently, I have an avid blog reader. This person (which FYI I do not expect to be reading my blog) had actually bookmark this blog for easy access.

My husband and I had a laugh over this piece of juicy information. After being accused of being insecure, it is ironic to find out that the person accusing me of insecurity spends precious minutes reading my blog.

After having our laughs, Erbe and I settled for a philosophical discussion about love. I asked him why he thinks some people cannot seem to get over their past loves. I gave my reader as an example. He shrugged, not really knowing the answer.

I, however, suggested an answer. I said to some people, like my reader, it's hard to let go of someone you deeply regret losing especially when this person loved you with all his heart. It's hard to lose someone when you know that no one will ever loved you as much as this person had. Well, this is just my theory. I might be wrong.

Afterwards, we talked of One Great Love. You see, you might be married to someone but your One Great Love may not be that person. It is at this juncture that we talked of my buddy, Marlon.

The other day, Marlon called me up and was moaning over his breakup with his current girlfriend. Now, Marlon is the first boyfriend of my bestfriend, Tin. It was only in that conversation that I told Marlon that during that time he last saw Tin to tell her that he is moving on with another girl (after their breakup), Tin was hoping that he was there to get back together with her.

Marlon was devastated. He finally admitted to me that he was hoping that she was going to tell him that she still loved him and that she didn't want for him to leave her.

After telling my husband this, we then talked of our own "One Great Love". My husband owns my heart and I own his. But I know I am not his One Great Love. We talked about this. I told him that I know his One Great Love will always be the girl whom he fell in love with when he was 12 years old -- the same girl that he loved until he met me. Ypu see...until I came along, he never loved anyone as much as he loved that girl.

Now, my husband knows that I have my own story. I would like to think that my husband is my One Great Love -- but I am still ambivalent about this. I still do not know if he is. He knows this too and we are at peace with this.

We both know that we both have our own stories -- our love stories. What matters is that he is the man I would always want to go to sleep with at night. With each other, we are at peace.

Erbe and I are pretty comfortable talking about these things; and I realized that after four years, my husband has also turned into my bestfriend.

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Mistaken Identity

Last Sunday, we decided to eat out for dinner after Church. So, we went to this kind-of Jap resto here in town.

Before our meal was even served, Paige was already her rambunctious self. She started her antics with tipping over a plateful of soy sauce all over her dress. Great, I thought.

I spent the next 15 minutes trying to prevent the total destruction of the restaurant.

Our meal was eventually served by this waiter who curiously looked like my husband. Halfway through the meal, Paige saw the waiter and suddenly began screaming at the top of her voice, "Papa! Papa! Papa!"

We started laughing when we realized what she was doing. The poor guy who suddenly turned father was so embarrassed and he started hiding behind the counter wall. The people in the resto started staring and laughing too. The poor guy was so horribly embarrassed when the crew of the resto started teasing him too.

If it was not so funny, I would have died of embarrassment myself.

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Pleasing Dawn

I got an award from my twisted sister Dawn.

And when you get an award from Dawn, you've got one great compliment! I mean, it's Dawn! Her blog is great for pick-me-ups whenever you need one. You'd never leave her blog without giggling over her post. :)

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Pathetic

For YOU:

If you can't bear to read the things I write. Then don't read my blog. This is mine. I can very well write anything in it. If you want, you should write your own blog! i can't even imagine why you bother to check and read. And get over yourself. Geeze! You're too fucking old.

You're pathetic. God! You are SO pathetic!

Get over it.

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Some Things to Look Foward To

There are three things that I'm looking forward to this week. I wish I could say I have some great orgy all plan out for the weekend so I could shock you silly, but sadly, I'm a boring woman. I have a pretty wild imagination but life is pretty much boring. I'm pleased with it though.

First off, I'm looking forward to cooking Beef Pochero. Sher, you have to definitely try this one out. I do not have time to cook so I'm thinking of cooking it this weekend when my sister arrives. I'll post the recipe once I've done it. Sphinx, if you have a recipe of this though, I'd appreciate it.















Speaking of my sister, that's another reason why I'm looking forward to this weekend. She'll be arriving from London this weekend with my favorite niece! Okay, she's my only niece. But I deserve to be excited. It's the first time I'm ever going to see that gorgeous niece of mine!




















And finally, the last reason why I'm so happy. I'm going to have tons of chocolates this weekend. I am a chocolate addict. I'm an emotional eater of chocolates. I don't care. I just love them!

See, people? I'm okay. Bar exams? What is that??! *wink. wink. wink.

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Do You Have a Boring Life?

Do you feel like you’re stuck in a rut?

We complain of how sometimes our lives seem so methodical. I get up, open the computer and work my ass off until God knows what time.

Do I complain? Yes.
Do I think that my life is all about routines? Yes.

It doesn’t matter what you are and where you are – at one point in your life, you’d probably tugged at your hair out of sheer frustration. It’s a trait that all of us humans share. The curious thing about it though is that we love the routines as much as we hate it.


Think about it. Why do I say so? When you’re stuck in a routine, you are also stuck in what’s familiar to you. You envelop yourself in a sensation of false safety. You complain that your life today is the same as yesterdays. You complain that there are no surprises and no rooms for impulse. At the end of the day, however, you breathe a sigh of relief. Part of that soul that makes you human is eternally content that you have a boring life.

I say, however, that this is a false sense of safety. Although, we would like to believe that everything is alright in our world and that as long as things stay the way we are, we are safe – this is bullshit. You cannot control anything in your life, just as I cannot control anything in mine. At the end of the day, some screw ups can happen. A drunk can suddenly run across the street and you’d kill him silly while driving home from work. Always there is that tiny chance that life will take you by surprise.

If you are to choose whether to live a life of pure routine or not, what would you choose?

Ironically, you have the right to choose a boring life just as much as you have the right to choose to live a life bordering on danger. Curiously, you have the choice but God interferes with that choice. You may think that’s tragic. It all depends on how you really perceive God and his machinations in your life. Reality, however, proves that our life is not exactly how we want it to be. Nothing stays the same and nothing changes. It is a constant evolution. And it is in that constancy of change that nothing really changes.

What differs is our perception of tragedy. It is how we regard the changes that differentiate us from one another. If you chose to regard yourself as a victim of all this encompassing routines and changes, sooner or later, that dark side of your soul will eat you up. If you choose to regard your life as a great adventure, everything will be exactly the way you regard it. The inevitable will be a part of that adventure.

So, how do you perceive your life? Is it a routine or is it an adventure?

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Back from the Ashes

Hi everyone!

I'm feeling a whole lot better. I haven't been conspicuously absent because of the bar exam results. I was silent for a while because I was sick. I still am sick. I am just forcing myself to get out of bed and work. I had a bout of typhoid fever. I didn't want to stay in the hospital so I've been taking a course of antibiotics instead. This particular brand makes me weak.

Thank you so much for your kind words. Thank you for the outpouring of sympathy. Hey, sh*t happens, right?

Anyway, I'm going to write a longer post on whatever catches my fancy later. I am up to my neck with work.

Sher, thanks for the kick on the butt.
Thanks everyone for the wisdom you've all generously shared.

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