I am still alive. Just occupied.
If not for two colleagues who were asking me if I plan to return to writing, I won't think of doing this post. In a way, I am trying to divert the sadness I've been feeling. From the abrupt departure of Jeff and on Holy Tuesday, the death of Inay Merced, my 95 year-old grandmother.
We laid her to rest a week ago and we are trying to live our lives with the changes her demise had brought -- including the fact that we will no longer have her around permanently. I tried hard not to cry on the day of her funeral but the painful realization that I won't see her anymore was that strong that hold back my tears is just impossible to do.
On our way to church for the requiem mass, this song was played in the car where her remains are. For years, I have listened to this song on sad episodes of TV series I would watch to the point that I've grown to like it. I will not deny but I really do miss Inay. These days, there is never a day that I would see a thing or two that would remind me how much he liked this particular food, place and yes even music. And always on those days I would be left with a feeling as if someone splashed freezing cold water on my face. That sends up a "wake up call" to me that at the end of the day, I'd come home and she's no longer there. I would still hear this song nowadays but in the middle of it I'd get a lump on my throat and that urge of wanting to let those chest-wrenching sobs out.
In the midst of grief, I can't help but think probably death is just somewhat similar to marriage -- in some ways, it's among life's realities. I used to view death as an "alien concept" but life had its way of explaining things to me. Blame it on the fact that my job deals with the truth that despite someone's death, life for those left behind has to go on or because I have a friend who experienced the death of a parent at the age of 15, it gave him a mature view of death and the world, which is something he is able to impart to me during these times.
Despite everything however, I just viewed it as this: I may miss the things she used to do or the things I did for her but then, reaching up to the age of 95 (yes, close to being a centenarian) in this day and age when people die earlier that expected is already a "life lived full circle". And that maybe, just maybe, during the times we were together here on earth, I may have done something that could be just small but to her, mattered a lot and was enough (or maybe more than that) to make her happy.
I miss her. It's hard but moving on is necessary and some inexplicable feelings out of grief will take time to get back to normal.
I miss her. It's hard but moving on is necessary and some inexplicable feelings out of grief will take time to get back to normal.
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