Losing Moms
I was at the salon earlier getting my hair rebonded when I realized the TV there was tuned in to "The Buzz," and obviously they were covering the Cory Aquino funeral. The whole time I was watching Kris Aquino cry her guts out on national TV--going how hard it is to watch your mother suffer in the hospital, breaking down as the pain in her body wore her down--I couldn't help but think back to August-September 2006, when my mom was hospitalized for a potentially life-threatening kidney ailment. We rush her back to the hospital, crying in pain, a day or two after checking out with assurances that she would be fine. That was a very stressful time in my life. My previous relationship happened to be on the rocks that time also, so I was actually stressing out over the two most important women in my life that time.
I'm bad with stress.
I may have mastered the art of acting zen during those occasions, but such behavior only makes me affected on a deeper, more profound level.
Those times in the hospital, taking turns with my siblings in watching over our mom, staying overnight or even two nights or three nights in a row at the hospital room took its toll on me, emotionally. My mom, weakened, would go "I'm sorry Adrian for being such a hassle." I'd go "No, nanay. You're not. You've been suffering even as I was in your womb. It's only fair I make it easier for you now."
My mom got better. For some reason her lupus disappeared. But I know that despite her being an athlete in her youth, and with me reaching more or less 1/2 of my lifespan, that I will have to face a similar situation in the future again. One that will take a whole lot more of my strength.
Watching Kris Aquino cry like that earlier...I realized I'm still not ready. I don't know how I will take it if my mom dies tomorrow.
My lola, my mom's mom, was the matriarch of our family. Lola survived breast cancer, but the cancer resurfaced in her liver. She went through something similar to what Pres. Aquino went through, spending her last month in the hospital.
Lola died with my mom cradling her head. She was still partially-lucid, gasping for air, whispering my mom's name. Two more gasps, then that was it. Last night I asked my mom how the experience was like then, but her answers always seemed incomplete, and before I know it my mom had already gone off to a tangential subject.
My lola was a strong woman. My mom continues to be a strong woman, getting a bit more frail and tired every day. I don't know if I can be as strong as them.
I'm bad with stress.
I may have mastered the art of acting zen during those occasions, but such behavior only makes me affected on a deeper, more profound level.
Those times in the hospital, taking turns with my siblings in watching over our mom, staying overnight or even two nights or three nights in a row at the hospital room took its toll on me, emotionally. My mom, weakened, would go "I'm sorry Adrian for being such a hassle." I'd go "No, nanay. You're not. You've been suffering even as I was in your womb. It's only fair I make it easier for you now."
My mom got better. For some reason her lupus disappeared. But I know that despite her being an athlete in her youth, and with me reaching more or less 1/2 of my lifespan, that I will have to face a similar situation in the future again. One that will take a whole lot more of my strength.
Watching Kris Aquino cry like that earlier...I realized I'm still not ready. I don't know how I will take it if my mom dies tomorrow.
My lola, my mom's mom, was the matriarch of our family. Lola survived breast cancer, but the cancer resurfaced in her liver. She went through something similar to what Pres. Aquino went through, spending her last month in the hospital.
Lola died with my mom cradling her head. She was still partially-lucid, gasping for air, whispering my mom's name. Two more gasps, then that was it. Last night I asked my mom how the experience was like then, but her answers always seemed incomplete, and before I know it my mom had already gone off to a tangential subject.
My lola was a strong woman. My mom continues to be a strong woman, getting a bit more frail and tired every day. I don't know if I can be as strong as them.