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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