A friend was helpful with her pity party analogy for the sorrow and the grief that come and go with the death of a loved one. The past few days since Saturday, I've been having a bit of a difficult time dealing with my loss.
I miss Bong, I see him in every inch of my room, like an old movie running in a loop. It was only like yesterday that he was there lying asleep on my bed, brown skin on white sheets while I sit on my chair watching the movies, then a few days back he was brushing his teeth, cutting his nails, tweezing his facial growth instead of shaving, taking a bath, changing clothes, picking up my clothes, choosing my clothes, cooking my dinner, cleaning after I eat, riding in my car or washing it, helping my mom, watering the plants, trying to race ahead of my mom in sweeping the front of the house with the previous night's carpet of blue orchid vine flowers, looking after my dad when mom and I have to leave the house. Bong was in practically every minute of my past so many years. And then the film stops abruptly, I can only hear the flapping of the negative as the reel keeps going round and round. I have to flick the switch off.
Being alone seems so alien to me now. Why is it that I who fall for someone so far and few between, why do I have to lose the person I really felt one with despite our chasm of differences? Why can't I also have the 20 & 24 years (and counting) partnership that my 2 other best friends have? But then again why not? The only, yet shining consolation I have is that it didn't end the way relationships normally do but by force majeure, an act of God, that for mere mortals like me, is unfathomable as the chasm between the reality of life and the immeasurable distance that faith must bridge to a life hereafter.
Is it too much to yearn for the hereafter to come soon so that we could see each other again before I forget how Bong looked or how I felt for him? But then Peachie said that the yearning is nothing more than my grief talking. Sad, don't you find? To be told or to realize that what I feel is merely my grief talking.
Thus, I walk that bridge of belief, of faith that there is a time and a place where we shall all meet again, without pain or fear and neither shall there be tears. For if I think not that we shall meet again, then living perhaps would feel like falling into the wakeless sleep of forgetting.
Yearning for it, indeed is just grief talking but I think one of the reasons that I am caught up by my grief a bit more often now is because I am beginning to fully realize the impact of everything that I've lost and that as the days ebb and flow it is only my memory that would keep him alive in my mind and warm in my heart. But memory fades just like everything else and that makes me sad. As time lurches forward, no matter how hard I dig in my heels, the grief will lessen but I hope my memory will not, of Bong, his hopes and dreams and comic reliefs, from poympersias to santuryums, bonggangvillas and prinsesesas (a movie, believe it or not), and not the least, for everything that he did for me, for as he always said he rather prove himself by acts full of heart than of words oft said with an empty heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment