Tag Archives: grief

When the time is near

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O2 regulator. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I went on leave yesterday to help my cousin, who is like my third sister, with–how do I term it? Her mom’s long goodbye? My cousin is not functioning well so I needed to be the one doing the rational thinking and the legwork because she couldn’t think straight. One thing is, she couldn’t let go. It hasn’t sunk in yet.

I told her the best option now is palliative care at home and make her mom comfortable. So I told her there’s no point in prolonging the stay in the hospital and we have to bring her mom home. We just need to set up a mini hospital there.

Which was not easy.

At a time of rising covid cases, looking for oxygen regulators is such an endeavor. I was told that Mercury is out of stock of O2 regulators because their supplier doesn’t have any left. I had searched for alternatives to Bambang, Sta. Cruz, Manila–the hub for mom-and-pop medical suppliers. Because I don’t wanna go there when it’s flooding all over the metro. Long-story short, I was able to buy an O2 regulator by going straight to the supplier’s house somewhere in Quezon City.

Now, the oxygen supply is another thing. I didn’t know that oxygen suppliers close early. Like 4 pm. And all I had with me was a 20-lb oxygen tank which I was told can last us the night. Wrong. It was only good for max of 6 freaking hours if the gauge was set up at 5! So I had to call people and begged to buy 50-lb tanks. One good-hearted guy took pity on me when I was almost crying and told him our oxygen will not last us the night and that my aunt was dying. So he relented and told his men to go to the factory and wait for us there so we can get 2 tanks, each one would only last probably 10 hrs or so. Each costs PHP7,000, just for the tank rental. The oxygen refill is another matter. We’ll just cross the bridge later today how to deal with supplies.

I had a long day and I still can’t sleep because of adrenalin. Driving around searching for medical supplies that are already dwindling. Hospitals that can increasingly cannot accommodate non-covid patients. Patients arriving at the ER, suddenly collapsing on the floor and dying.

I hoped to never use the PPE I had at home but unfortunately yesterday I had to.

Because my immediate concern was to get as much cash I could the quickest way possible to bring to the hospital, I totally forgot to buy surgical masks because we don’t stock up on it that much at home. So even if I have my PPE overalls, I was only wearing two cloth masks. I just hope I am not contracting anything.

So how do you tell a loved one that their whole world was dying?

You don’t.

My cousin dedicated much of her adult life taking care of her mom and could not bring herself do the paperwork for DNR. I didn’t point out to her that her mom’s heart already stopped twice, which may have already cut off the blood to her brain. And Lord knows what that could do. It still doesn’t sink in.

I just told her, we need to bring her home now. We will be running the hospital bill needlessly. That finally convinced her to ask the doctors if we can take my aunt home.

I’m still here in their house because anything can happen at any time. And she would be totally useless, which she already acknowledged she will be when the inevitable happens. I will be the one calling for the doctor’s medical certificate that will declare the probable cause, calling the funeral parlor or memorial service, arranging the filing of declaration to whatever government entities, calling relatives, arranging household concerns. Logistical issues. Like what I did when my father died. No one was functioning well enough to do those practical things.

Because I know how it is to die when grief kills you. You’re just blank.

I didn’t eat during the first few days after the break-up and after my dad died. It was only ice cream that sustained me because it was full of sugar, enough to fuel my cells, and it was the only thing that is a pleasure to eat because everything else tasted like paper. As I said in a blog entry after my dad died (and after my break-up with J) that every moment at that time was like floating in memories that were played back like a movie. And it doesn’t stop. It just goes on and on and on. The pain is excruciating that you want to just inflict physical pain onto yourself to take the edge off the emotional pain.

That’s how I know my cousin will not have human strength when death comes.

When will this end?

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They have already multiplied, as of the latest story I read. Soon we will be overwhelmed again by Delta and God knows how long the lockdowns will be again. Indonesia and Thailand are overrun now by this variant. Our inoculation rate is low and we have run out of vaccines here in Metro Manila.

I’m tired.

Saturday bento. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I only got out of my room to make bento. Then I slept the day away. I think I’m sick or hormones are out of whack again (hello premenstrual syndrome!) and I’m aching all over. I promised the girls we would be riding our bikes in an hour but I’m sooooo 🤒

Kimchi lying on top my laptop. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

My cats are driving me nuts. They meow like they’re dying if they get shut out of my room. Then they do the zoomies around my small room while I try to sleep. They follow me to the bathroom. They sit or lay on my table when I work. Or underneath my table. On my chair. On my chair’s headrest while I work.

I should buy cat leashes so we can take them for walks so that they can expend more energy instead of zooming all over the apartment.

Today marks the 7th month since I died. Or the old me died.

It is hard.

Climbing out of that dark pit of grief, anger, and self-pity is soul-crushing during a pandemic. You are left with your thoughts for days on end. You can’t see you friends or distract yourself by traveling or just going about your normal business such as working at Makati CBD.

Oh they said, “You’re still young, you can find someone else.”

The thing is I don’t think I can trust someone again. I don’t think I can go all through that pain again.

I have children, you see. No one would love and accept them except for me, as proven by this experience. I don’t want them to experience the kind of rejection that I experienced from J. I didn’t tell them that J didn’t like them that’s why he left, among other issues. He left when they were in my hometown with my mom. When they came back, Tito J was already gone. No goodbye whatsoever. He left like a thief in the night, like a typhoon that passed us by.

Those 7 months were hard. As I said here before, those were the hardest months I had since my dad died. I tried my darned best to keep my head above water because I had two human beings depending on me for survival so I had to survive too. I needed to save myself before I could save others.

I’m better now. I’m a bit proud of myself for not making an ass of myself infront of him during my darkest hours. Of not asking him to change his mind and come back. Of groveling at his feet.

But the grief is there, it never goes away. I just have to be a bigger person so that ball of grief won’t hit my inner walls that often.

Seven months. Back then I didn’t even know how I would survive the month. My only goal then was to survive the day. Take it one day at a time. I couldn’t picture myself in seven months but here I am, frayed but still intact. Still finding my way out, trying to find myself. Still figuring out what’s the best way forward.

But maybe this is the way forward. I don’t know. I mean, I have a general idea of what I want but the details are not clear. I had been with my current company for seven years, the longest I had been with any employer. I am feeling the seven-year itch but I’m not sure if this is the best time to jump given the difficult economic circumstances. But my doors are open and I’m already looking around. If the right opportunity and timing is right, it will land on my lap. As God has always done.

Back again

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National Science Complex. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I was writing this piece that has been in writing purgatory for weeks… and glanced at the watch above my speaker that said it was already 4:00 pm but I still haven’t had lunch.

Then daughter asked if we could go biking. I glanced at my flabby tummy and as much as I want to lie down and rest my exploding head, I acquiesced that I needed the exercise.

By past 5 pm we were already on our saddles. We first cycled our way through almost all the streets in our village. By 6 pm-ish (I think), we biked our way into UP through one of the side gates and went to the National Science Complex.

Taking a water break. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I missed this place. There’s still this twitch inside my gut, somewhere deep down, as this place holds bittersweet memories. But I’m better now, I think. For now. When we stopped by the benches, I took in the view and I felt… I don’t know, probably a mix of nostalgia and wistfulness. There’s a perfect word that embodies those feelings but it escapes me now.

I’ve come to love this place since it’s secluded and peaceful. And it’s where we found our kitties.

Free to run. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

There was also a family there with little kids with their bikes but that was it. We had the place to ourselves. I laid on one of the concrete benches there and stared at the sky that was already turning orange grey. I listened to the chirping birds flitting from one branch to another. Then the cicadas took over, signalling to us that we should be heading back home.

We had a good exercise; we got home at 7 pm. ✅ calories burned ✅ fresh air ✅ a way to get out of the house without having to be near another human being.

We’re going back there on weekend and we may bring snacks and we’ll see if we can lay down on the grass or the benches and stare up at the clear sky.

Back to sewing

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Sewing masks. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I’m back to sewing masks. I think we will soon run out of Greek letters to distinguish each SARS-COV-2 variant that keeps popping up every month. We now have Lambda, which was first detected in Peru and has now infiltrated 30 countries. So the future masks that I will finish would have a long time of service, unfortunately.

Today was a bit terrible. That interview I did at 5 pm got me triggered. The interviewee was nice and all, nothing was wrong with him and I got everything I needed for a story but at the same time he was all wrong. Very wrong.

He was same age as J, from J’s country of birth (when I thought my interviewee was from somewhere else), migrated to the same country where J migrated at a young age too. Same state and same city. He was relating his history because I asked why he built up his company in this particular segment. Then he told the same backstory of being compared to the neighbor academically, strict upbringing, going to xxx university for pre-med but dropped to go into military. Had a younger brother who went into law school but ended up in MIT. The two of them formed a company in Asia, sold it to a PE and the proceeds allowed them to run a family office investing in two sectors and then they also founded another start-up and now doing a capital growth fundraise. That’s how I ended up interviewing him.

He was so talkative that in 1.5 hrs he already related his political views and the racism he experienced growing up in the same city as J. He said stones were thrown at him when he was a kid and was often told to go home to China. He said, “I shot back and said I am not Chinese, I am xxx and I live in this country.” He said the same thing as J said, that Asians are invisible and are at the bottom rung when it comes to large ethnic groups.

Just as I was getting successful in forgetting and moving on, I suddenly slipped and fell and was back to square one. This interview triggered the memories of J telling me all those stories. Of memories of J.

Stop it. He has forgotten about you. He doesn’t like you. He lied to you about many things. He took you for an idiot. He’s a terrible person. Don’t go back into that dark pit again. Just stop.

So now I’m back to sewing while watching/listening to Youtube to take my mind off everything. I wish I can hold the fort and not crumble.

I hate being like this. How do I end this?

Good night

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Binangonan, Rizal. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

It is a heavy Monday. I was drowning in work. I again forgot to have lunch and only remembered to eat at 3 pm.

Then I said goodbye to a friend and colleague who has begun sleeping to never wake up.

How do you say goodbye to someone who is dying? What do you say? I was at a loss for words but I knew I needed to say something. His family says he still can hear as hearing is the last of the senses to go before one crosses the rainbow.

So we sent our recorded voice messages via FB Messenger or email. I told him I hope he realizes how much we love him and appreciate how he touched our lives. That I know he will continue fighting for our rights as journalists, as human beings. That he shouldn’t worry because we will carry the torch after he moves on, that we will fight his fight, that the fight will continue.

I always jokingly post on FB that I need him to keep me company trolling the trolls on Twitter.

I told him I hope he is no longer hurting and that he is happy with what he has now and what he has accomplished.

Sir, good night.