flashback, the end

We laid mom to rest on Thursday, November 12. 

The wake lasted five days and was attended by her friends from high school, college and former jobs, former officemates, our friends, dad’s friends. Her two sisters, Tita Bebe and Tita Gina and their families were there of course, and their cousins too. Tita Beth, the aunt who raised mom, made it from California, while my dad’s mom and sisters came all the way from Florida to be with us as well. B made it too.

There were tributes and a lot of stories shared, prayers said, flowers given and money donated. Mom touched a lot of lives and that thought alone made me feel okay. Even if she’s still young (49), she lived a full life. She was a fantastic wife, a great mom, a kind sister and a wonderful friend. She travelled, sung songs, read good books and watched awesome movies. Mommy also masterminded the renovation of our home and was able to leave everything (as in every single thing) in order. She took care of our pets, supported us in our endeavours and was just there. Always there.

Although it was very painful, I found it easy to accept mom’s death because I’d rather her be with God than be with us but in so much pain. I miss her all the time but I am thankful that God didn’t let her suffer long. I know she’s happier now. And at peace. She is, after all, in the best place anyone could be.

At first it was difficult to believe that mom was not with us anymore. During the first two weeks, I felt that if I imagine it hard enough, she would walk out of their bedroom, wearing one of her floral dusters, her hair in a lose pony tail. Suddenly I’ll be jolted by the realization that she’s no longer with us. I’ll then find comfort through a prayer and the in the thought that she still exists, only in a different realm.

I now recall this piece I read back when I was a kid:

Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way that you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.

All is well.

Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918)

Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral

All IS well.

Rest in peace, mommy. We’ll always love you.

*****

Our sincerest gratitude goes to everyone who helped us get through that difficult time:

Tita Menchitt and Tita Nini for assisting us the morning mom passed away;

Canossa batch 76 for being there and for the beautiful tribute;

All our relatives, some of whom flew all the way from another continent;

All our friends and mom's friends who expressed their condolences;

Friends who donated money and gave flowers,

and everyone who was just there with us personally and in prayer.

Thank you so much.