I have not totally forgotten this blog.
Life just took a strange turn.
I still read your comments.
And I always read your posts in your blog.
I looked over at my G+ page tonight. It showed a post dated December 8, 2012.
It had a photo.
A desk calendar.
It was dated December 2011.
Yes, it has been a year.
Amidst everything that’s going on in my life right now,
No matter how busy I get or how tired I am,
I will always have that moment to stop and say…
“I wish you were still here.”
For the past 3 months I have been dreading December. 2012.
As far as I know, my world ended one year ago.
Sometimes I want to be alone.
Just me, myself, at home, doing not so important things. The hubs doing his thing. The little one watching cartoons. Just like that, we’re engrossed in our own little lives. Finding peace in that moment. Contentment.
Especially when I need it the most.
Like tonight.
I go home because dad’s there. I need to. I have to. Because he’s there. Nothing more.
I go home because “going home” meant getting a stress free life even for just a while. When I am surrounded by an easy way sort of living. But now that’s not the same.
I go home to an emotionally charged atmosphere where people I used to know are somehow not the same anymore. Since mom died, it has become just too much not just because of a simulation of more responsibilities, but the thought of working and then efforts go unnoticed, unappreciated, and most of the times, advice are strewn aside (why did you even ask me in the first place?).
There’s a long vacation coming up.
But sometimes, like tonight, I’d choose to stay put. Just here.
But I can’t.
Because dad’s there.
How I feel about mom’s death.
How I feel now that she’s gone.
How I feel with me and my family here and dad and sister there.
Basically how I feel about everything.
Probably because what I feel doesn’t show on the outside.
I am happy and outgoing. You will see me smiling and laughing but you will never see my heart breaking.
Emotionally I am torn. And drained.
There are things people expect me to understand. And I try to all the time.
I give in most of the time.
But do they ask if it’s okay? No.
And when I want to be alone, they get mad.
Is it because on the outside everything is okay and my life is just fine and dandy?
No.
But no one will ever know.
‘Cause nobody asks.
There are lots of stories, anecdotes, videos about guardian angels. Just Google the words and the internet will give you a list of searches. From the name of the guardian angel for a certain month or birth date to real life experiences of those who believe they have seen one.
I believe in guardian angels.
Growing up in a catholic school, and reciting the “Guardian Angel Prayer” each night infused the belief in my mind. I believe that they are each person’s security guard that God sent over to take care of us, without meddling into our daily lives. So if they are from Heaven, can all beings in Heaven be guardian angels too?
I would like to believe that.
Mom’s in Heaven now. She can be my or my sister’s or my dad‘s guardian angel but I doubt that she is mine or my sister’s. What I believe is that she’d rather choose my dad and her favorite grandchild to watch over. Yes, this is what I’d want.
Mom used to say that my sister and I are old enough to know what is or isn’t right, that we are responsible for our decisions.
With dad, well, while it may have not been obvious, she kinda looked out for him. The fights they’d have and all those bickering, they were there cause she cared. Too much, maybe, to a fault (?) Mom looked out for what dad ate. She’d accompany him to medical check ups. When he got operated on for a kidney stone, she stayed with him and never left his side at the hospital. Small things. Dad‘s alone now. In a previous post, if you will recall, I mentioned that she “appeared” to my cousin in a dream. She told her to tell my dad to take care and watch what he eats and that my sister and I take care of him. I’d say that she’s looking after him right now, not wanting anything to go wrong (especially when he eats cause boy! my dad does not know when to stop ;D )
For the grandchild, my little boy, mom didn’t want to go. About a year before she passed, she told people that she did not want to die yet because she wanted to see her grandson grow up. She loved my little one so much that she’d coax my dad into visiting us every month just so she could be with him for a weekend. I cannot express just how much my son meant to her or how much she loved him. Yes, she is his guardian angel. From the time he was born she cared for him and nurtured him like her own child. He was her world. And I am glad that he was able to experience and feel that kind of love.
I put the little one to bed each night and as I look upon his peaceful slumber, I say a little prayer of thanks to God, for bringing him to my life. For keeping him safe each moment and each day I am not with him, especially when he’s at school.
In my heart I believe she is there. Watching over them. Keeping them safe.
Mom is their guardian angel.
It was at the first floor. Here was a party. Lots of people were there as usual. I sat beside the stairs. I think (Or was it in one of the small offices by the side?).
You came to sit near me. You complained/were sort of mad that dad didnt leave a seat for you. Then i asked someone to carry a chair and placed it across me. You sighed relief and said thank you. An aisle was between us as people came and went from the buffet table to their seats.
We talked about something. I do not recall anymore what 
we were very engaged then suddenly i woke up. To a Sunday morning.
I asked myself what the reason was for that dream. Was it because of the pain consistently on my neck for the past 4 days? Or that little pre-menstrual bump on my chest?
Then today, it hit me. It’s October.
It will be my birthday in 3 weeks….
During the weekend we were home, I cannot stress again how empty the house was like. Dad rearranged the living room into a more “spacious” place, which to me, looked so open and vacant. He removed the piano and placed it facing the door. Its the first thing you see now upon entering the house. Mom loved that piano. She’d play for us every so often, that I grew up having the same hobby. In the living room, before bedtime, my sister and I used to play a piece each for mom and dad. Mom stopped playing the piano when cancer struck, 5-6 years ago.
When I was younger, especially during high school when I was still home, I’d wake up to weekend mornings and afternoon naps of mom’s beautiful music. I remember going down the stairs and see her long fingers (and long nails) glide effortlessly across the keys.
After cancer appeared, I’d hear her play once in a blue moon and not as frequent as before. And this continued all the way to her death.
With dad moving the piano away, it’s like it was discarded and strewn to the side where, instead of the usual family pictures and a grecian lamp lined its top, keys, locks, and papers are now scattered.
