Of love, lost and moving on

During the early 1950s, no one would have thought that there would come a time when the internet would make meeting people a breeze. For many young Chinese couples, those were the days where finding a life-time partner would require the manual internet - a matchmaker. That was the tradition. And that was how my parents met.

After a few months of courtship, their parents thought it was time to tie the knot. Both were still in college when they married.

Unlike many children today who marry young and then depend on their parents for their daily sustenance, my father's family insisted that once he finished college he would have to be independent.

I came 1 1/2 years after they were married. My sister followed another 1 1/2 years later.

We were not rich. My father had to find odd jobs to make ends meet. My mother had to be resourceful to augment the meager income he was making. We grew up shuttling from place to place - living with my grandparents then moving to a warehouse then back to my grandparents home then to a drafty apartment then back to my grandparents home then an apartment in Makati then finally finding home to where we are today.

I grew up remembering both the good and bad times we shared as a family.

There were days when I could feel the tension at home because dad had a bad day at work or was up to his neck in debt. Or the days when my mom would have to dig into her piggy bank for our allowance or hock her jewelry so that we had money for tuition fee, which would bring a tear to her eyes. Or the days when we had to make do with an electric fan because we had no airconditioner and when the electric fan wasn't working my mom and dad were up the whole night manually fanning both me and my sister. As a family we had our share of arguments as well.

But in between those tough times, I found love.

I found love in the daily tuyo and spam in "toyo and calamansi" and fried rice my mom would prepare for us for breakfast.
I found love in the lazy stroll at Roxas Boulevard after mass from Baclaran on a Sunday morning.
I found love in the weekend Sunday at some forsaken beach with my parents and sister.
I found love in the tiny matchbox cars that served as a reward for the purple and green stars and I brought home each grading period from school.
I found love in the little gifts that dad would bring home every valentine's day for my mom, even though we had very little to spare.
I found love in the thoughtfulness of every small occasion our family would share each payday.
I found love in the cramped room we huddled in to watch a TV show.
I found love in the stories my parents would tell us about how life was both kind and unkind.
I found love in the small kiosk my parents owned where Sundays would be a day we needed to be all present to cook hotdogs and sell softdrinks and ice cream at the zoo.
I found love in the struggle of my dad with his diabetes and eventually his debilitating stroke.
I found love in my mom's having to drive my dad back and forth the hospital during my training days in the US.

Even when we lost my dad over 16 years ago, I found love in many of those who came to his wake or expressed their condolences.

He was a simple man who taught me that the worth of a real man is one who had integrity, honesty, and generosity.

In his demise, we lost a man who stood by his principles on decent living, on making a marriage work in spite of the odds, on fidelity and love and family, on being a friend when you needed one most.

Today I find love in each day I live.

I find love in caring for my aging mother.
I find love in the Sunday brunch with the remaining family and my partner.
I find love in the occasions where I get to splurge a little or splurge a lot.
I find love in caring for the sick and the needy, in being a little more generous to those who have less, in not taking advantage of position and power.
I find love in a careless day at the pool, simply dozing off to a good book or to simply look back at the past and find the story of the life of my parents whose love surpassed the challenges of this worldly life.
I find love in walking the dog or caressing the cat or feeding my fish.

I will always find love in the ordinary things we do in life.

Because I learned from someone who taught me that true love weathers the challenges in making relationships work, and that it does not expect anything in return. If we only look for it deep within our hearts...we will find love.

My Good Friday

It was all planned out. Holy Thursday would be a day with Inang. The day before, we talked about going to seven churches in the area, out of tradition, for the stations of the cross. Early Thursday morning, she was feeling dizzy. It worsened throughout the day. Her blood pressure was fluctuating too. The dizzy feeling did not want to stop except when she lay down still. I sedated her, but when the Valium wore off, she would feel the whole room spinning and spinning and spinning...

Towards the afternoon, she wasn't getting any better and started asking God, why her? What has she done wrong? Why was it her sacrifice to bear? Towards the evening, I had shifted her to new medications and she did not seem to improve. As a matter of fact, she thought of dying and was asking God if this was her exit plan in this world?

When it is someone you love so dearly, you cannot help but feel helpless during times like these. It was painful to see her cry and beg for the spinning to stop. But there was not much I could do. Or anyone else for that matter. I could not help but stare at a frail woman who had so much faith and devotion to God, crumble before my very eyes. And I could not help shed some tears as she literally begged to die.

During those agonizing moments, I remember that she had sent me a text message the day before, that read "Every time I begin to feel that there isn't enough strength left in me, I end up knowing that there's more in Him. God sustains us...".


I slept beside her the whole evening. Praying that she would be better when I wake up. Assuring her that I am here by her side and with her in her trials during this time of illness. It was strange because I have not slept beside her in years. She woke up in the middle of the night and I was staring at her and she murmured, "why are you here? I thought you'd be sleeping in your room."

"Not tonight", I replied. "Close your eyes and get some rest. I'm just here." And she had drifted off to sleep once more.

Every one has his share of Good Fridays. We bear our crosses and we are lucky if we have a Simon of Cyrene to help us carry the burden. I pray that she recovers soon. Prayers are all that is left in my vocabulary at this point.

When push comes to shove, we realize that we humble ourselves and prostrate before God, begging Him for divine intervention.

Today, all I can do is wait for my mom's Easter Sunday.

The life and times of Dad

This month is Father's Day.

But he's not around anymore. Nine days after my birthday, dad passed away on June 26, 1994 at the age of 59. He was admitted to the hospital on June 24 and in his sleep in the early morning of the 26th, quietly left us. Even in his final day, it was done with no drama.

My dad was the eldest in a brood of 10 children. Alfonso (dad), Antonio, Albino, Armando, Arturo, Andres, Alejandro, Alberto, Aida, and their adopted sister, Carmen. My grandparents were migrants from mainland China. The story of my father starts off like many Chinese migrants who grew from rags to riches.

Their family started selling in the public markets and later grew to owning financing and insurance companies, movie houses, wineries and government officials! But like all rags to riches stories, there was the downfall of the empire. Drugs, gambling, women and greed became the downfall of my dad's family.

I grew up in Tacloban City where my dad had to manage the family's illegal winery. My mother would tell me that NBI agents would raid the winery in the middle of the night and beat up my father for them cough up money. It tore my mother's heart and my dad suffered from type I diabetes mellitus. After 6 years, we moved back to Manila only to find out that all the money dad had sent back home were "sequestered" by his family in order to keep the financing business, which was losing money because of mismanagement, alive.

Two kids, a wife and jobless, my grandparents threw us out and we literally were on the streets living off what my mom's parents had sent them. My dad had managed to juggle various jobs - from the illegal jueteng "kubrador" in Laguna to the salesman who sold shoes in Marikina - there was no greater man who made ends meet to give us food on the table, a roof on our head, and schooling for us, than this man I am proud to have shared 35 years of my life and called Dad.

It was not until he was almost 40 years old that my parents decided to buy a lot in Alabang, Muntinlupa. It took us out of our comfort zone of living in various apartments and in 1975, we were finally going home. Mind you, Alabang at that time was a municipality and our neighbors were cogon grasses. The house that my Dad built out of blood, sweat and tears is the house I still live in today.

It is in this house that our family found love in the most unexpected time, learned to sacrifice in order to survive, and yes, it was in this house that we found home.

I knew that Dad did not have much luxuries as he saved them to provide us with our needs and wants by putting his family first.

Through him we have learned integrity, loyalty, love, sacrifice and respect.

Half the story of my dad has been told, entwined in my life, my sister's and my mom's...

Mom would always tell me, after dad had passed away, that my father would have been proud of me, were he still alive today. In fairness to my sister, my dad would have been equally proud of her.

Me and my sister are the other half of the story.

Life...or something like it...

They say life begins at 40...or 50...or 60...

I turn 50 in a few weeks. And how time flies.

Of course I feel the age creeping in on me. Even my fave dermatologist, Dr. Ida Villar, who has done wonders in making me look 30 instead of 50 can't reverse the physiologic changes in my body. But more than the physical attributes, what has life been like in the past half century?

Like all others, I have had my share of luck and misfortunes. I have loved, been disappointed in relationships, only to love again. I have dreamed for the longest time, and seen the fruition of some dreams and the failure of others. In the drama of my life, I had thought of what kind of foundation would it take to strengthen me in my journey. We cannot all see dreams in the same way. But the search for happiness is more important than the need for pain. And for every pain that struck me, I had to rise above the disappointments.

Contrary to what other people think, I did not have success on a silver platter. Life was a battlefield. All battles in life serve to teach us something, even the battles we lose. It is precisely the possibility of realizing a dream that makes life interesting.

I am a bright student. Always in the honor roll in grade school & high school and dean's lister in my undergrad and graduate school, a math wiz, I was the best in the lot. I believed I was what you call, the cream of the crop. Then I went to med school. It was a struggle because I had a different view of medical education. Then the big day came. I needed to pass my oral revalida in my graduating year. I failed. I failed? Anger, denial. I locked myself in my room for a week. Refused to acknowledge defeat. And I pitied my mother who was recovering from surgery and my dad who had to borrow money and was in deep debt for my medical schooling. They would not see the first doctor in the family go up the stage to get his diploma. I would remain in medical school for 3 more months and face the same panel all over again. My mom would beg me to eat something. I closed the drapes, cried day and night, was so depressed that I would consume 2 packs of cigarettes in a day. It was all I thought of. I swore not to go back to medical school. Dr. Roberto Anastacio was a big influence in my decision to return. He told me that the biggest loser was the one that gave up. My giving up was simply a sign of weakness and I did not deserve to be a doctor then. After a week, I returned to the hospital and went on duty. When I entered the ER, my colleagues started clapping and tears simply flowed. I will leave this saga behind and will move on. Like a book, there will always be a new chapter to start with. If you have a past with which you feel dissatisfied, then forget it, now. Imagine a new story for your life and believe in it. Focus only on the moments when you achieved what you desired, and the strength will help you to get what you want.

And so life went on. I picked up the broken pieces, put it in trash mode and got on with what life had to offer. This time, I wasn't a young man in a hurry to see what the world owed me. I was a young man on a mission to see the world. And what life had to offer. At 25, I was broke and my spirit was broken. I was dependent on my parents for my daily bread. They understood though that I was taking the road less traveled. One day, I would return the favor of their emotional and financial support. This I swore.

Life is not the way we expect it. My sister, Bennie, married and had kids. In her third year of marriage, when she was pregnant with my nephew, my brother-in-law died of a cerebral aneurysm that ruptured. He was 33 and my sister was suddenly a widow. My father had a stroke a few years later. We were in debt and I was just off a residency program. I was offered a scholarship at Boston University. But my family needed help more than I needed my career. And we were just financially recovering, only to have one disaster come after another. Dad, with tears flowing simply told me to go and chase my dreams. After all, they had managed all those years. Life would be kind to them. I sold the car he gave me for my graduation so that I had pocket money for my initial housing in a foreign land. The other half I left with my mom for dad's medical care. Finding something important in life does not mean that you must give up everything.

Success had it's price to pay. We are all growing and changing, we notice certain weaknesses that need to be corrected,and although we may not always choose the best solution, we carry on regardless. Over the years, there were still disappointments, but the dreams fulfilled outweighed the former. I made friends, lost some. I lost out on relationships and swore never to love again. Then loved again. I lost my faith, then found it again. I have helped my sister raise my nephew and niece and provide them with all the perks in life. I have been able to take care of Inang and see her through her senior years. I now understood what weakness and strength was and responsibilities. The inevitable always happens. We need discipline and patience to overcome it. And hope. It isn't a question of placing hope in the future. It is a question of re-creating our own past.

I turn 50 in a few weeks. I have a lifetime to share my thoughts and life...or something like it...among my friends. And I don't know how my book of life will end. But this I am certain of. Each moment of our lives, we all have one foot in a fairy tale and another in the abyss. We all have choices which we make. Not all choices are right, but we will never know what is the right one until we take the road less traveled. Choosing that path means abandoning others - if you try to follow every path you will end up following none.

I believe that life began when I was born. Never mind the idioms of the oldies who claim that life begins at the senior citizen age. It's mind over matter. I have many people who I need to thank who have helped me across my journey. To those who have hurt me, thank you too for making me stronger in my Personal Legend.

The glory of the world is transitory. And we should not measure our lives by it, but by the choices we make, to follow our Personal Legend, to believe in our utopias and to fight for our dreams. We are all protagonists of our own lives, and it is often the anonymous heroes who leave the deepest mark.

With that said, I am ready for the next fifty years of my life. There will always be a child in me that will hold on to my dreams, no matter what age, no matter what tragedy, no matter what disappointments. And should I leave this world earlier than my dreams, I know I have lived life well. No regrets. No hatred. No sorrow. No angst. Just happiness. Because life...or something like it...is lived one day at a time.



- all itals are from Life by Paulo Coelho

Inang!

May 11 is Mother's Day. Again.

Since the Filipinos began following the American tradition of observing Mother's Day, Father's Day, Grandparent's Day, and the other "economically exploitative" days of the months in a calendar year, so that Juan de la Cruz is transported to becoming John Cross, we have, in truth become abiders of the "cause for a celebration".

I will not cross the border of sarcasm, just for this featured blog. If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is economic exploitation of a holiday. Enough said.

Following the American tradition, many give honor to our Moms on this day. Most of us will probably treat her out for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Our way probably of saying "thanks for all the cooking you've done". Others will find a way through her back aches and joint pains and probably settle for a spa treatment. Then you can be innovative and cook lunch or dinner and take her to the movies. In whatever way you intend to celebrate Mother's Day this year, it will be a day that we said "thank you" for the many years you have toiled for us. In, however way we celebrate the occasion, as long as the meaning is poured through no matter how small the ways are, it's the thought that counts. And mothers will always understand that. They don't ask for anything in return at all (at least my mom doesn't).

I look back at the years that my mom has spent with me since my dad passed away. It's been 14 years since then and my mom, whom I fondly call Inang!, has lived with me.

The sudden passing away of my dad did not come easy for her.

Inang did not finish college and became engaged to marry my father at the age of 19. After 2 years, I was born. A married life wasn't easy, particularly with a young Chinese couple. My grandma (dad's mom) was a difficult woman to live with. There were many instances when she would literally find ways to make life difficult for Inang. During those difficult times, Inang would have only dad to lean on. Her family was hundreds of miles away and being a young mother with no background at all on home economics was a nightmare.

There was a time as a baby that I would cry in the middle of the night because I was hungry. Because she was young and poorly educated, she panicked and mixed condensed milk so that I could be calmed down. Only to have me rushed to the hospital because of vomiting and diarrhea in a few hours. And have my grandmother berate her for her "stupidity".

Dad was busy trying to make ends meet. And then my sister was born 1 1/2 years after me. With my dad's family hoarding the family finances, it was a difficult life for both my parents. Whatever business they ventured into became disastrous and would eventually end up with zero or a negative cash flow. And there were two babies to feed.

We had no money. We had no one else to turn. My mom and dad simply had each other. There would be nights when they would try to find a way to make sure that we had money for school, for a new pair of shoe at least once a year, a day in Roxas Boulevard watching the sunset and just being carefree, a small matchbox toy car if I got good grades, a Hello Kitty for my sister on special occasions, life was simple and we got by in spite of our financial difficulties.

Education was the center of my parents life. They always preached that it was the only worthwhile investment they could make on our life. My dad wanted me to be a doctor. Even though I was hesitant, my path was paved. I would see dad and Inang work day in and day out so that they could make ends meet. Provide food, shelter and clothing.

Ours was a family that started from nothing. My parents were young and innocent when they started out. It was not a marriage made in heaven. There were more moments of hell and when my dad eventually got sick, Inang had to carry a larger burden. She was the pillar that made the family stay together.

Inang had to learn to drive so that she could take my dad back and forth from the hospital for rehab therapy. She had to drive to Ongpin to get hopia for our small store so that she could sell them in the little corner of a supermarket. She eventually had to sell some of the gold that were her gifts during their marriage so that dad could have medicines for his illness and money for his therapy. Inang was, in simple terms, Superwoman.

But all that sacrifice ended with dad passing away 14 years ago. All that strength crumbled in one day. Inang became depressed and wanted to die. Her pillar of strength just gave in. And I saw the depression, the loneliness, the emptiness that zapped the very core of strength in Inang. There were many nights that she would cry alone or simply in a state of disbelief that in a day, dad would suddenly die.

Several years and many drugs (antidepressant, anxiolytics) and psychiatric help later, Inang is back on track. There would be difficult moments, particularly her fear that she would once more be alone. But she is coping up to the difficult days ahead but looks forward to the good times as a senior citizen.

Oh yes, even during dinner conversations, she would recall the best times with dad. She would recall the times when we were all growing up and candidly smile at the accomplishments both she and dad had achieved - her children. Given another life, she says she wouldn't trade her life today for anything more. There is contentment and happiness in her smiles, aches and dreams.

This blog article has been in the making for a week. I had to stop 4 times because I couldn't contain my emotions when I was writing it. It had to come deep within my heart and the tears spontaneously came as well.

I don't know how long Inang has with us. But this I know. I will always remember the stages of heaven, purgatory and hell that she had gone through. And as long as she can still enjoy life, I have made sure that I would make time to enjoy it with her.

That's why mother's day will always be special to me. Inang will always be the story of what a true mother is. And everyday will always be mother's day to me.

Thank you Inang.