Farewell, "Ninong"

Edgardo de Castro
July 4, 1946 – October 25, 2009

It is sad news, my ninong (godfather) Eddie has passed away.

He is like a second father to me. Actually, he wants me to call him uncle ninong since his wife is my mom’s younger sister. As a boy, I remember, we would always ride his scooter to go around for a joy ride. I would spend a week over at their house. Then we would go shopping at Rustans and he would put me on the push cart. I was probably, 4 or 5 years old. We would have dinner at the “Aristocrat Restaurant”, a famous restaurant in Manila facing the Manila Bay. I could finish a large chicken barbeque (thigh and leg) with fried rice.

One thing I cannot forget about ninong is when I got sick when I was 14 years old. He is still a Catholic then (He has been converted to the Methodist faith and an active member of the St Paul UMC United Methodist Men at the time of his death), he has made a sacrificial prayer as he joined a long black Nazarene procession barefooted. Then he went straight to me at the hospital where I was at the Intensive Care Unit immediately afterwards to tell me that he has prayed for my healing.

I have seen him for the last time at the wake of my dad. I had no idea that it is going to be the last. I know how he has loved me and I will miss him too...

Happy Birthday, Dad

It’s Dad’s 72nd birthday! His first after his passing last December. It has been our family’s tradition to celebrate our birthdays with a small family feast. Before, Dad would buy a mocha cake roll and a half-gallon “fruit salad” ice cream (Mom’s favorite). However, he is not here anymore so for the first time, we do not have a cake and ice cream for Dad’s birthday.

We went to his burial place early morning, we brought some flowers and lighted a small candle. We wanted to spend a few hours with him. As I sat on my wheel chair, I stared at the marble epitaph reading his name repeatedly in my mind. I still could not believe that I was at the grave of my father. I miss him so much…

Farewell, Tita Edna

Dr. Ednaflor delos Santos
May 12, 1941 – August 7, 2009

Last Thursday, August 6, I received a text message at about 12:16pm from our Pastor:

“Please pray for Ate Edna, she is in bad shape. She is in the emergency room of FEU hospital now –Pastor Veron.”

I prayed for her intently. I waited for developments hoping that she would turn out ok. At about 3:45pm, I received an update from our pastor:

“She is still unstable.”

The following morning, August 7, I received the sad news from our pastor:

“She passed away this 3am.”

The inevitable has come. She had to go, because of colon cancer.

When I first heard that she had cancer, I was shocked. I recalled how she put up a prayer chain through text messages for her friend who had cancer a few years back. I was one with her in praying for her friend. I never thought that she would need the same prayer chain for herself.

She underwent operation last year and she recovered quickly. I was able to talk to her when she went to church after a few days. She looked very beautiful without any trace of illness. She was a picture of strength in spite of illness because she was holding on to her faith in the power of Christ in her life. I would always remember her that way…

She was my mentor in writing. She gave me important tips about how to write properly in terms of style and technique however, we were not able to finish our goal. She was preparing me to contribute an article for a newspaper column “Hi Blood” where she used to write. It might not happen anymore but what I had learned from her were a treasure that I would cherish forever.

Seven years ago she gave me a gift, which I hold very dearly to my heart. She asked me to be quiet about it so I would just keep it to myself. However, I would like to say that I would not be able to do all these that I love doing today if it were not for her.

If she could read this, I would like to tell her…

“Thank you Tita Edna for your kindness and love. Thank you for mentoring me and inspiring me to write. You will always be in my heart… farewell and ‘till we meet again…”

Photo:
http://www.mens-hormonal-health.com/colon-cancer-stage-4.html

Kris Aquino’s Lament

Toward the last part of the funeral rites for President Cory that I was watching on GMA-7, Kris Aquino, daughter of the late president, went up to the podium to say her final tribute to her mom. She was very emotional.

A part of her discourse struck me so much; “I lied to her (referring to her mom) when I told her that we’re going to be ok… It would take a lifetime for us to be ok…” Her words kept coming back to me, over and over…

Death is such a painful parting most especially with a parent who have been with you all your life; helping you, serving you, teaching you and guiding you. Her words have made me recall my dad who has left too. After 8 months, I still miss him so much. She is right, family occasions like Christmas will never be the same again.

An Unexpected Dream

I had a dream about dad one night and I told mom about it the following morning with excitement although I was close to tears. For several months after dad’s death, I wanted to dream about him but I would always wake up frustrated so it came to a point that I stopped expecting. Then suddenly, one night, when I was not expecting it, the dream came…

Dad came home and entered the gate wearing his favorite blue polo and fatigue shorts. He rode a tricycle. It seemed that there were concerned people who brought him home because he was thanking them. We were all shocked at the sight. Then he came up to us and said, “I did not die. I just got lost when I tried to go home from the hospital on my own. Aside from that, I met an accident so I could not look for the right way back home.” He sat down and showed to us his foot. We saw a wound that had not healed completely. “Yes, it is true!” Mom exclaimed. She, then, attended to him like she had always done before. She was crying in joy while I was looking on still shocked…

Then I woke up. It was just a dream. For a while, I was thinking, “What if it is true?” I wanted it to be true. “What if Dad is somewhere wanting to go home?” For a moment I thought of exhuming his remains to make sure that it was really him. However, I saw him inside the casket, it was him, sadly. Yes, dad had gone home but not here with us but to his heavenly Father. I will see him there in the heavenly mansions sooner or later…

Photo from:
www.inhabitots.com/.../

Cool Dad

I survived GBS but I needed to undergo physical therapy. It was the key to recovery. However, I must admit that although I was doing my exercises, I was not very diligent. Maybe, I was discouraged. How could you exercise your legs that you could not move! Therapy was an ordeal for me. More than the physical hurt, it was hurting me more psychologically.

Dad would think of ways to encourage me. He would make his attack from the bright side of life. He would buy and wear new pairs of pants and shoes to make me envious. It was his way of making me think of the things I could enjoy if I regained strength and in order to regain strength, I must exercise. In contrast with Mom, who would focus on the things that I would miss if I would not walk again.

In fact, Dad had bought me a couple of pairs of shoes in spite of my physical condition. It was his way of saying, he was not losing hope…

Photo courtesy of:
www.samuel-windsor.co.uk/

A Dad Who Never Quits

I got sick at the age of 14. I acquired Landry Guillain Barre Syndrome (Acute Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy), a rare disease that causes progressive muscle weakness and paralysis. Whew! It was a very complicated disease. It left me paralyzed for over twenty years now.

I remember, several hours after they brought me to the hospital, I began to feel difficulty in breathing. The nurse placed the green-colored tube connected to the oxygen tank on my nostrils but to my shock, it gave no relief! It was as if, there was no oxygen at all passing through it. My mother who was sitting at my bedside leaned toward me and whispered to my ears, "Magdasal ka anak para gumaling ka agad..." (Pray, that you may get well…) Then we sang the "Our Father" but even before we could finish the song, I passed out. I did not know how long it was. When I regained consciousness, I could hardly open my eyes. I just felt a crowd of people in white all around my bed. One was forcing a metallic instrument into my mouth to open it wide and then inserted a long plastic tube down into my throat.

Later on, my parents told me that I stopped breathing. I was gasping for air and was gnashing my teeth. The medical people attending to me were almost ready to give up. The nurses had already escorted my family out of the room except for Dad. He intentionally stuck his thumb between my teeth, enduring the pain of my bite, just to keep my mouth open in a desperate attempt to make sure that I would not lose air. It was then that the doctors and nurses went back to resuscitate me. Mom asked Dad to show me his right thumb, it was all black and blue and inflamed.

When I was dying, Dad was at my bedside. He never left me and I recovered. When Dad was dying, I was not there at his bedside. He did not recover and I did not hear his final words. If I could only describe how painful it was for me… It was like a wound that would never heal…