It is said that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. This is the same thing I always told my mum whenever she made any reference to my "unique" character. I was every bit as assertive and forceful as she was. We clashed all of the time which made it extremely difficult for both of us not to be at each others' throats. She'd be telling me to do something that I didn't want to do which sends her straight into a fit after I refuse to do it. I'd be asserting myself and she'd come refuting every point that I make. It was a never ending seesaw of one heavy weight over another. No one was willing to stand down, well at least while the episode was playing. After which, days of cold shoulders would ensue until someone breaks - and it usually is her to be the first to crack.
I would do anything to have her back. My family lost her to cervical cancer. She was diagnosed with stage 2 cancer on February 2013. Shortly thereafter, the cancer progressed to stage 4 and spread through her whole body starting with her lungs. It took less than a year after the initial diagnosis when she started to go in and out of the hospital. September of the same year was the first time she had a major bout of breathlessness that forced us to take her to the hospital. It was then when we found out that the cancer cells have metastasized. It led to her getting water in her lungs which worsened her breathlessness to the point that she had to put on an oxygen mask in order to breathe. She passed away a few months later, on the morning of December 20.
I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to her because she was already gone when we arrived that morning in the ICU. All her life support were already taken off and she laid there, lifeless. The last time I saw her conscious was 2 days before she was taken to the ICU. I had already called for a priest to administer to her the last sacraments because the doctor told us that the cancer was aggressively attacking her entire body. The next 48-72 hours were the most critical according to him. Then, the inevitable came. I didn't say goodbye to her when she was still conscious because every bit of my being wanted her to live on. I asked her to fight and fight she did. Until her last breath, I know that she fought with every fiber of her being because that is what we all wanted. How could you say goodbye to a loved one? How can anyone muster the strength to say goodbye when all it would sound like is defeat, giving up. This queen was not born to give up. I was vividly aware of the intense pain she was fending off but I didn't care. I didn't want her to give way to cancer. None of us did. It was never a question of letting go even though she was in so much pain. Letting go was never a question.
Looking back, I realized that though she wanted to rest, she fought valiantly for me, for us. She gathered up enough strength to remain conscious and strong until she had a moment to herself when we were no longer around to see her suffering. Then in an instant, cancer claimed her life. It stole her from us. Cancer stole the steady ground by which I was able to soundly tread my path. My rock is gone. That moment when I saw her lifeless body I was in utter shock. I could not for one second comprehend the fleetingness of life - how one moment she was still here with us and the next, her body no longer contained her. It was a mere shell that once housed a light that is now extinguished, never to be seen again.
At her wake, swarms of people whose lives she touched, came flocking to pay their respects. They shared their fondest memories of her most of which were testaments to her kindness and helpfulness. They told stories about how she had helped them get on their feet when no one else would. How she extended all of herself to them forsaking her own needs because that was who she was. They were grateful to her for were it not for her compassion, they would not have found the courage to soldier on in the face of great battles. To them, it was her compassion that taught them to persevere.
While these stories are heartwarming, there were those who, unknowingly or otherwise, did not fully comprehend the gravity of loss. A few of them offered misguided words of comfort. Don't get me wrong, I do not fault them for their empathy, however, misguided they were. I am grateful for their efforts of consoling our grieving family. However, I would like to point out a truth that I guess none of us recognize until we experience such a loss ourselves. Some of them told me that the silver lining in all that has happened was that we were at least ready to lose her or had time to prepare ourselves for the inevitable. Since she was already in and out of the hospital for a few months and we had complete knowledge of the severity of her illness, somehow that makes us ready to see her go. I would like to dispell any fantasy that a person can ever be ready to see a loved one go. Nothing can ever prepare us to lose a loved one. It is a fact that the moment we are born, we are already a moment closer to our death as well. We will all turn into ashes. That is not a mystery. However, no amount of counseling or preparation can ever turn a person completely ready to lose a loved one. Until a loved one's last breath, we will always hold on to a hope that they will pull through and survive. Our natural instinct is to fight for even the smallest glimmer of hope that the life of our loved one can be prolonged. It is the very nature of hope, unrelenting and persistent.
So no, none of us was prepared to lose her. Spending countless nights at a hospital watching her whither away did not do the trick. The several consultations with the doctors as well were not remotely close enough to make us accept defeat and anticipate with restful reverie her passing. Losing a loved one has a finality, a permanence that resonates through your soul and changes you completely. It has the power to shake the very ground that you are standing on and turn you dangerously anxious about the sudden change in your reality. Again, no, you can never be prepared to lose a loved one no matter how hard you try or practice for it.
I urge anyone reading this to extend empathy to those who need it with sensitivity and sincerity. Not all comforting words that we offer are welcome because there is no amount of consolation that will suffice for a grieving soul while it is still in pain. Most of the time, the comfort that is required is silence. Not isolation, but a present shoulder to lean on without fortune cookie snippets that are served more to fulfill your desire to observe the rules of social contract but absent of sincerity and tact.
xoxo
QB
I would do anything to have her back. My family lost her to cervical cancer. She was diagnosed with stage 2 cancer on February 2013. Shortly thereafter, the cancer progressed to stage 4 and spread through her whole body starting with her lungs. It took less than a year after the initial diagnosis when she started to go in and out of the hospital. September of the same year was the first time she had a major bout of breathlessness that forced us to take her to the hospital. It was then when we found out that the cancer cells have metastasized. It led to her getting water in her lungs which worsened her breathlessness to the point that she had to put on an oxygen mask in order to breathe. She passed away a few months later, on the morning of December 20.
I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to her because she was already gone when we arrived that morning in the ICU. All her life support were already taken off and she laid there, lifeless. The last time I saw her conscious was 2 days before she was taken to the ICU. I had already called for a priest to administer to her the last sacraments because the doctor told us that the cancer was aggressively attacking her entire body. The next 48-72 hours were the most critical according to him. Then, the inevitable came. I didn't say goodbye to her when she was still conscious because every bit of my being wanted her to live on. I asked her to fight and fight she did. Until her last breath, I know that she fought with every fiber of her being because that is what we all wanted. How could you say goodbye to a loved one? How can anyone muster the strength to say goodbye when all it would sound like is defeat, giving up. This queen was not born to give up. I was vividly aware of the intense pain she was fending off but I didn't care. I didn't want her to give way to cancer. None of us did. It was never a question of letting go even though she was in so much pain. Letting go was never a question.
Looking back, I realized that though she wanted to rest, she fought valiantly for me, for us. She gathered up enough strength to remain conscious and strong until she had a moment to herself when we were no longer around to see her suffering. Then in an instant, cancer claimed her life. It stole her from us. Cancer stole the steady ground by which I was able to soundly tread my path. My rock is gone. That moment when I saw her lifeless body I was in utter shock. I could not for one second comprehend the fleetingness of life - how one moment she was still here with us and the next, her body no longer contained her. It was a mere shell that once housed a light that is now extinguished, never to be seen again.
At her wake, swarms of people whose lives she touched, came flocking to pay their respects. They shared their fondest memories of her most of which were testaments to her kindness and helpfulness. They told stories about how she had helped them get on their feet when no one else would. How she extended all of herself to them forsaking her own needs because that was who she was. They were grateful to her for were it not for her compassion, they would not have found the courage to soldier on in the face of great battles. To them, it was her compassion that taught them to persevere.
While these stories are heartwarming, there were those who, unknowingly or otherwise, did not fully comprehend the gravity of loss. A few of them offered misguided words of comfort. Don't get me wrong, I do not fault them for their empathy, however, misguided they were. I am grateful for their efforts of consoling our grieving family. However, I would like to point out a truth that I guess none of us recognize until we experience such a loss ourselves. Some of them told me that the silver lining in all that has happened was that we were at least ready to lose her or had time to prepare ourselves for the inevitable. Since she was already in and out of the hospital for a few months and we had complete knowledge of the severity of her illness, somehow that makes us ready to see her go. I would like to dispell any fantasy that a person can ever be ready to see a loved one go. Nothing can ever prepare us to lose a loved one. It is a fact that the moment we are born, we are already a moment closer to our death as well. We will all turn into ashes. That is not a mystery. However, no amount of counseling or preparation can ever turn a person completely ready to lose a loved one. Until a loved one's last breath, we will always hold on to a hope that they will pull through and survive. Our natural instinct is to fight for even the smallest glimmer of hope that the life of our loved one can be prolonged. It is the very nature of hope, unrelenting and persistent.
So no, none of us was prepared to lose her. Spending countless nights at a hospital watching her whither away did not do the trick. The several consultations with the doctors as well were not remotely close enough to make us accept defeat and anticipate with restful reverie her passing. Losing a loved one has a finality, a permanence that resonates through your soul and changes you completely. It has the power to shake the very ground that you are standing on and turn you dangerously anxious about the sudden change in your reality. Again, no, you can never be prepared to lose a loved one no matter how hard you try or practice for it.
I urge anyone reading this to extend empathy to those who need it with sensitivity and sincerity. Not all comforting words that we offer are welcome because there is no amount of consolation that will suffice for a grieving soul while it is still in pain. Most of the time, the comfort that is required is silence. Not isolation, but a present shoulder to lean on without fortune cookie snippets that are served more to fulfill your desire to observe the rules of social contract but absent of sincerity and tact.
xoxo
QB
No comments:
Post a Comment