no one's gonna take that time away.

I was greeted this morning by a song in my head. I first heard the version of Janis Siegel with Fred Hersch on piano, but I am very much drawn to the original that James Taylor and Carly Simon recorded while they were very much in love. It may be of note, though, that the comments in the video speak of a painful truth that one could not see in their eyes; yet, the lyrics are wrought with bittersweet sentiment that would manifest itself to them only after a decade.



This Holy Week calls me to peace. Palm Sunday began with a triumphant and glorious welcome; yet, it was also a prelude to a sorrowful passion. Nevertheless, I am comforted with the hope of an Easter morning. As he said while I was in tears on the way home, "it will be better." It was not all sadness, anyway. In fact, it was a chance at a dream, and the best days always outnumbered the worst. There are no villains in this story; nobody wins when there is something lost, there are no sides to take. At the very end of it, mutual respect and gratitude remain for the love that was given and gotten.

So close your eyes, you can close your eyes, it's alright. Everyday, I pray that it will be alright for you and me.

"That today you find peace inside you, that you can confide in your highest power because you are exactly where you are supposed to be, but do not forget the infinite possibilities that are born from the faith, that you may use the gifts that you have received and transfer the love that has been given to you, to make you feel satisfied that you are a child of God. Allow his presence in your bones and give your soul the liberty to sing, dance and be warmed by the sun, that is there for everyone and each one of us."

Tea and sympathy.

Funny, how now I'm supposed to avoid both, but in the end I crave for both.

Funny, how this song started it all, playing on the radio, with us chuckling how it sounded so much like "don't trade our LUNCH for tea and sympathy". That also was the inspiration behind my blogger.com account.

Funny, how it rings true today, now that I've managed to almost corrode my colon with my erratic eating habits because of a loss that no one is supposed to know or understand.

Funny, how I've managed to hold on for 12 years to something that only I care to remember.

No one is laughing.

And now, for the first time, I will admit that I have lost the love of my life long before he actually left me.

*********

The struggling man you used to see with me was not the one I fell in love with when I was 19. The only thing they have in common is their name.

The man I fell in love with was well beyond his 19 years. He was a free spirit, a brilliant artist, a budding athlete, a talented musician, a keeper of the faith, a devoted son and ideal brother.

The one who eventually got attracted to me was a boy trapped in a 30-year-old's diseased body. He was nothing he told everyone else he was. But his disguises were clever enough to ensnare those he needed to seek security from. His best, so far, was being the love of my life. And the illusion was so impeccable that everyone believed it, or maybe because I bet my entire self to make everyone believe it. I wanted to believe it, I had to. I felt nothing without it.

Gradually, the person I was becoming was also engulfed in a sea of masks. I had to be hidden. I had to be someone else. I had to keep up with the mirage of a couple whose interests were perfectly braided. And if I struggled to be myself, I would be left alone.

Thus began my transformation from being a woman so sure of herself to one who would "go beyond herself": I stopped eating rice, went to countless expensive parties, spent beyond my lifestyle, pathetically ran races, and aspired to be a triathlete. While this was all happening, I had to keep my day job, fulfill my passion as a choir member, and be a dutiful daughter and sister. At the back of my head, I thought, he was doing the same, leading a "superlife". Sadly, it was not. It was a double life. I kept it up for a time, but eventually something had to go. Unfortunately, it was my old self that suffered. I couldn't "go beyond myself" anymore. Why was the "self" I already was not enough?

The straw that broke this camel's back came when I discovered that the one who was inspiring me to achieve new things wasn't achieving anything substantial at all. He was banking on my capabilities to make up for his inadequacies. This new-found twisted sense of confidence opened his doors for more people to attract to himself. As his network increased, I saw it as a sign that he was a changed man, being visible again to old friends and classmates, overcoming his introverted personality and opening up to the world that could finally uncover the beauty he had when I first met him. I was proud of him, and of my "contribution" to his brighter life. Naturally, I wanted him to be proud of me, too, and to show off that I was the one who inspired him to come out of his shell.

He wasn't. To this day, I have yet to set foot in his house. I can neither call his landline nor ring the bell by his gate. About two people in his family have an idea of who I am in his life. There are groups of friends that do not know I exist save for about 60 pictures of him and me tagged on Facebook which may be only a few of countless untagged pictures he may have with others. And, about a year ago, he kept from me that he was reinstated in his beloved university -- supposedly to surprise me with his diploma when he finished. He flunked.

I tried to take it one mistake at a time. He would eventually make up for each and every one by doing tremendous favors for me and my family. Most of all, he stayed with me (for the most part) and promised to love me everyday. But when the lies became too complex, I felt uneasy. Something was terribly wrong.

Then, at a most inopportune occasion -- on the day he gifted me with a shiny new mountain bike he built from scratch -- I snapped and confronted him about all the lies and hiding he had been doing. He was shocked at the selfishness of it all; here he was, saving every peso to buy and piece together each exquisite part to make the bike that would be the symbol of his love for me, while I was bickering about some unrelated thing he did in the past? Worse, the lies I discovered were things I found out through some investigating on my own, without his permission, which violated his privacy. In his pent-up rage, he rode off on his road bike, and never saw me nor contacted me again.

It has been 2 weeks. I still cry. I went for about a couple of days a week without eating anything and it finally led me to the hospital after I vomited blood. I know he is not worth it.

But he is not the one I pine for. I am grieving for the man I lost long ago, the man I now realize I can never have. He may still be there, but he is buried in layers of deceit and insecurity. I may not have the strength to dig him out of there.

On our last full Saturday together, a Jars of Clay song was on the radio. I looked at him gingerly and sought for the familiar in his lovely eyes. He changed the channel.

I asked if he remembered anything special about the band, or the song, or anything in the 9 years before we decided to be together.

"No, I don't remember anything."

My soul is a widow to one who has killed himself.

Wonder how we tried, for things could never be;
Play our hearts' lament like an unrehearsed symphony...

thank you, Frailty, thank you, Consequence, thank you, Silence.

As we put out the last Roman Candle in the revelry of ushering 2010, the family noticed that the neighborhood fireworks ended earlier than usual. Maybe people were tired or too stressed; perhaps they figured it would be better to watch TV (although we're known for having the best fireworks display outside any public show because of the prominent personalities who live on our street), or maybe the events of 2009 made it fitting to end its final moments in silence.

Alanis Morissette's "Thank U" was released in 1998. 12 years after, it still resounds as timely as ever for me. No, I still have not gone to the salon for that much needed hair makeover, and this video reminds me of that, too ;P It has become my anthem for the week, and it perfectly caps my year filled with so many personal milestones, catastrophes and blessings that it almost seems surreal.

This was the year I joined races, stumbled and picked myself up to meet my work targets, flew like Superman on a zipline, hiked 4 hours of mountain(s!!!) to get to an awesome volcanic sand beach, and pioneered a superclub bridal shower idea that will soon be the latest craze among brides-to-be (right, Tim?).

2009 was also the year we shuffled from hospital to hospital: Dad's gastric surgery and removal of a miraculously benign tumor, the comeback of Mom's slipped disc that required regular therapy sessions, and the car mishap that involved both of them and a hapless woman who happened to be walking on the opposite side of the school gate our car rammed into while rapidly moving in reverse. And, who could forget Ondoy, whose destructive force has left our home in a shambles as we struggle up to this day restoring it back to a livable state for the next decade or so?

How apt it was for 2009 to have been the year I turned 30, for this was the time when I finally (albeit with much resistance) had to fit into the shoes of an adult. I was suddenly not just a child who was let in on family issues; I was to be part of the steering committee. Many times over, and in different occasions, I became a mother, a godmother, a Mrs.Cortez for a day, an eldest daughter, a youngest sister, the man of the house, and the maid.

All these things were seasoned with love that came from every corner of my world. The family grew closer and stronger than ever as we slowly rebuilt our home and braved every ailment, my branch office bounced back with a vengeance with its staggering rallied sales stats, and Joe's full marathon finish, with his medal on my neck, spoke of the indefatigability of the human spirit. Hangad's December visit to Isabela further taught me how moving it is to be impassioned, not just with a beloved, but also towards a ministry that one is called to be a part of.

2010 appears to be a promising year, as we face it with a renewed sense of inner strength. This will be the year I finally give my baby sister away to start a family of her own, and this is also the time for me to let go of my fears and reinvent myself yet again, as we begin my first bike build -- that I will eventually ride :) On a nationwide scale, they say Hope is the main theme of the beginning of the 10s, and much is to be expected as we transition into a new leader in May. My heart is brimming with much love to give, and I am not alone in praying that the coming year be a little kinder to most of us. Nevertheless, I am confident that should there be new and bigger challenges to face, in the end, I will still be thankful for all of it.

Kudos to 2009, and welcome, 2010. :)

how about me enjoying a moment for once?

one look in the mirror and i was reminded of alanis morissette's "thank u" video.

hmm. must visit the salon soon.

*******************

Just when I thought I had gone through the worst in 2008, 2009 was still not an easy year for me. Nevertheless, there are so many things (and people!) to be thankful for; all in all, the blessings always outweigh the difficulties. I am here, and I am grateful to still be here. :)

I am hopeful that 2010 will be a little kinder, and I'm looking forward to more triumphs and milestones to reach (I will finally learn how to ride a bike!!) -- and I wish the same for all of you.

Happy Christmas, all! :)

just give me till then to give up this fight.

Naku, Manny. I worry for you when you push your luck.

*************

An officemate confided in me that she was praying to God for a sign for her wish to be granted. She added to her prayer, "Lord, kung magbibigay ka naman ng sign, pwede linawin mo naman ng konti."

I told her, "Malinaw naman palagi. Tayo lang ang nagpupumilit na palabuin lahat."

The truth is, we always get what we pray for. Not at the time we think is right, not in the circumstance we find most convenient, not with the person/s whom we feel would give us an "easier" time. But we are granted our wishes, in the context of the "big picture".

We are allowed to savor triumphs -- the fulfillment of a dream, the gleaming finish line at the end of a long race -- in order for us to celebrate the glory of the human spirit. Yet it is an equally significant (albeit rather poignant) reminder of the resplendent soul when one braves tragedies and failures. Unfortunately, since these events are painful, they are taken for granted as blessings and we often don't look beyond the bleak reality of such events.

My father, the same 81-year-old survivor of a quintuple bypass and a gastric tumor operation a few months back, met a vehicular accident this week, with him behind the wheel and Mom as his passenger. The car, which ran on high speed in reverse, crashed into a closed school gate which completely folded its trunk accordion-style. His injuries are not unlike a boxer's after a gruelling fight: a bloody nose that now slightly tilts to one side, burst lips and a swollen eye. While eating hospital rations on his last night of confinement, he mumbles:

"Siguro pwede na natin ipakuha yung CRV sa casa. Matagal na natapos yung baha, ayos na yun. Wala akong ma-drive eh."

@()%*_(#&*%*$!&%@*@#&???

I breathed deeply and told him that what just happened to him and Mom is a gentle reminder that he should take things easy from now on. "Maraming nangyayari na sa inyo na yun ang sinasabi, Dad. Dapat siguro makinig na tayo." He fell quiet, finished his meal and prepared for bed. Two days after his discharge from the Lung Center, he still has trouble sleeping. He is anxious, denying the fact that things have changed. He now tries to calm himself by watching the Pacquiao-Cotto fight in their bedroom.

Apart from the denial of a sign is the underlying self-pity that cripples us when we are beset with bad news. We find ourselves frustrated that things are not moving as planned, stumped and in despair that we have reached rock-bottom, that we are beyond salvation.

We forget that it is a blessing. It is a divine nudge that tells us we are not alone, that our lives could never be totally planned by us. It is a roadblock that protects us from a ravine, to lead us to a longer detour that will, still, eventually take us to our destination.

So now, as I await the longest days of my life to end and present me with my fate, I pray. I admit that I am helpless. And I succumb to this helplessness with faith that like all storms we have braved in the past, I will be saved.

Heaven help me.

I'll remember.

Allow me to linger on the memory of you today.

In my mind, the first day I saw you is as fresh as the thought of yesterday.

You were radiant as you were simple; gracious as you were serene.

I instantly loved you. I would have wanted to stroll along hospital walkways with you if I continued my studies in that direction. I enjoyed listening to stories of you, especially the early years in Baguio with the rest of the family I had grown to love too.

Your car was my favorite, and only now do I realise that my own car is blue too, like yours.

I miss your thoughtfulness, how you would invite me to eat or check if I have a ride home. Merienda at Jollibee would always remind me of you.

When the time came when you no longer remembered me, I kept on thinking about you. I could not tell you how much I loved you, because I had become an unwilling stranger. Yet I still prayed for you. And I still pray for you.

It has been a year today since you left. Though we were almost but not quite bound as family, you will always be the one I learned the most from. You are one of the reasons why I survive being alone. You were the gentle strength that kept me standing in spite of the crushing difficulties at home. You were the inspiration that empowered my prayers to bring my father back in the pink of health. And you are the silver lining that reminds me to trust God's plan and to see the good in every event that comes -- or fails to come -- in my life.



Thank you, Lola Bella. You will always be remembered and loved.

December.

I found this song on YouTube when I was looking for a nice video for Christmas. It's quite a long track, embellished here and there, which makes it a perfect accompaniment for Final Fantasy X (though I'm not sure whether this was officially included in the game). If you're curious, watch the video here.

I remember this song for another reason, though. I had a tape (retro!) of this album by Kenny Loggins ten years ago, and it was one of those albums I kept in my dad's car for him to listen to. One time we were on our way to fetch my sister from a high school recollection along Tandang Sora, and this was playing in the background while we were on the road. Suddenly Dad noticed the street we were going into was familiar, and asked me,

"Hindi ba't nandito ang bahay ni ?"

"Opo."

"Bakit nga pala hindi na siya pumupunta sa atin?"

"Wala na po kami, Daddy." We had recently broken up less than a month ago then.

He paused, decelerated the car, looked at me and gently said,

"Kaya pala malungkot ang anak ko. Pasko pa naman."

I wanted to sigh and say thanks for stating the obvious, but it was too early for me not to be affected. I was only 19, but was usually expected to act older than my years, and that meant not showing any sign of weakness, especially when it came to boyfriend issues. Yet for a moment while riding on that bumpy road, I was allowed to acknowledge losing a love I tried to fight for. Daddy remained silent, while I shed my tears as clandestinely as I could.

As I listened to it tonight, it struck me again, albeit differently. Whilst a decade ago I was dwelling on how to nurse a broken heart, today I discover that Christmas is when that big, empty space in my heart is given a lot to be filled with. Daddy would probably say the same thing to me now and I would still stop myself from sighing, because now I find that It's not so much of being alone as it is being available for more people in need.

Going home from Hangad's Isabela concert last weekend and from an office outreach activity today gave me a sense of purpose: I, my family, my job and my friends remain, because of the strength of a collective love that is meant to be shared, celebrated, and sung. This love, which began many Decembers ago, is what brings us the hope of sunrise after a dark night.

This season may have a few poignant moments for me, but for the most part I am still overwhelmed with gratitude for everything good that has happened in 2008, and truly hopeful for a brighter 2009.

Happy Christmas, everyone.

December
Kenny Loggins
released 1998

Once upon a dream
Moonlit wings come into view
Winter casts her spell
And all the world is born anew
A child sees a star through a window
He knows with all his heart
That wonder is coming
Waiting
Hoping
Believing

Only in December
Are hearts so full
Or feel more alone
Could it be the same
For everyone

Only in December
Can the broken heart
Feel so alive
And the autumn ashes
Become the fires of December
Can I be inside
And out of the cold
Still I know
December always leads me home

I still believe in magic
Always leads me home
And I still believe in miracles, yes
Still believe in Christmas
I still believe in love