Dearest Mommy Maring (+)
We miss you Mommy! It's been more than 40 days. The whole clan is slowly adjusting, trying to be "normal" and move on. But one can never fully recover from a loved one's loss. Is it even possible to truly move forward?
I don't know.
When we wake up every day and do our morning routines, it just doesn't feel right when your presence is not felt.
When heating water for bath, we automatically expect a flush from the nearby bathroom to tell us you're done and always chose the guests' t&b (that's triple steps more to reach than your about 5 steps away from your room t&b) so those who need to go to the office and school can use your t&b. But there's no flush and the lights are almost always out on that corner of the house.
When we wake up a bit late than schedule and run to the shared kitchen to cook breakfast and baon, there's something amiss on the clan's dining table. It just doesn't paint a happy picture, one filled with your morning greetings with a cup of coffee (sugarless) while sitting on your favorite "head of the family" chair (one of our last gifts to you, which you mixed with the old almost dilapidated ones so more people could sit). The openly dreaded but secretly loved side comments and kuwentos have gone, perfectly matching the empty chair that greets our mornings.
When we call home from work, the lines are almost always open. Far from the expected busy telephone lines due to our favorite telebabad telephone operator. And it all seems to be "all business" now, unlike when you were on service that a simple three-minute call usually lasts for five or more with your updates on what's happening at home, and your questions about our day at work.
Upon going home, passing by your room and not hearing the television (if after 6:30PM - prayer time is at 6PM) or the radio (in the mornings to afternoons) is always a reminder that that room, in which your grand children and great grandchildren stayed to seek comfort especially during sick days, is now filled with an empty bed, an empty cabinet and a drawer desk with our photos.
I miss you Mommy. I've seldom spoken to others about your passing as every time I remember, tears just well up (like now). And though I'm happy to know that you're finally at peace with God, Daddy Emil and Kuya Ondie, my heart still suddenly feels heavy now and then, and a lump builds up on my throat.
Someday I know all of us will come to terms and finally accept wholeheartedly. I remember you told us that for our departed loved ones to be at peace, we must also be at peace. I know I will be Mommy. Hopefully soon. For now, I'll move forward and every morning smile at the light-less t&b, sit on your favorite chair ('cause most of us are afraid to do so), call home just to check what's up, visit your room or maybe take a peek and wave when arriving home (I'm admittedly a scaredy cat, still). All these and the silence that often envelops our home will remind me that a great, modern, brave woman walked this earth once and lived her life to the fullest, unselfishly giving of herself to her family and friends, and that woman was my grandmother Maria Cruz Canita.
Loving care,
Chepot
aka Gracie
PS- Everybody's asking what's up with my new short do. I haven't revealed the real reason :) It's actually a tribute to you - as you've always liked our hair shorter than what we normally wore. So I hope you're smiling up there whenever you see me. This one's for you, Mommy! :)
PPS- enjoy it while it lasts hehehe :)
