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Grief Recovery

Discovering tranquility at Luijoe meadow

“When we are unable to find tranquillity within ourselves, it is useless to seek it elsewhere.” Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Discovering a tranquil peace at Luijoe meadow leaves me energized and comforted. Luijoe’s grandparents named this “Luijoe meadow”, a playground to frolic at their mountain residence in Benguet. They had named this lovely meadow after their only grandson, Luijoe even before my son passed away in May 27, 2000.


Luijoe meadow somewhere in Benguet

It was Holy Week in 2000 when we all vacationed in this picturesque pine valley hideaway. My energetic young man wasn’t in the mood to have his photo taken by Luijoe meadow then but I insisted. He was in a hurry to run around and just be. That Holy Week was well spent talking about the death of Jesus on the Cross, the comfort of Mary by John the Apostle and more. I didn’t know my son was preparing me for his death a few weeks later.


Painting on the wall of Church of Holy Sacrifice, UP Campus

My son’s death reminds me that life on Earth is fleeting that there is far more meaningful tasks that need to be accomplished before the promise of eternal life. There are poignant memories that comfort me today. Luijoe often gave me a hug and reminded me before bedtime. “Mom you haven’t prayed”. I catch myself during chaotic situations, praying to God for serenity. I remember my son’s gentle reminder and lift my problems in prayer.

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Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet

A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. ~Marion C. Garretty

sisters-forever

We are four sisters. Two (Myrna and Lorna) are based in the United States and two of us (Belen and myself) reside in Manila. I was supposed to join Lorna as an immigrant by now but I declined the application papers in 1986. Myrna (the sister running for City Council here in a city in Califorina) and Lorna moved to San Francisco in 1984 and 1986 respectively to nurse a broken heart. I am particularly close to Myrna. We talked for hours about our love life, our work, and philosophy of life. We love to dress up and be fashionable that we often shared clothes and accessories. There was a time that we even looked alike except I am taller . Unlike my two other sisters, we don’t stay up late to party. We often giggled how the two other sisters scampered to the gate to join their friends , once my dad went up to his bedroom. Dad never knew this.

That was why I felt broken-hearted when Myrna found work in Calfornia in 1984 as an Architect (yes she had a working visa). I wanted to join her. It seemed I was getting nowhere with my 6 year relationship with Butch so I asked him “do you want to marry me or not? If you won’t marry me, that’s okay because I will join my sister in California”.

To my surprise, Butch did not see my question as a threat. He said he’d marry me the following year even if he was just second year in Law school. Though years have kept us apart , our sisterly bond is always there. I can’t quite pinpoint what makes us close. Perhaps, a sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves – a special kind of double.
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No one can take away our love

He evoked in me a capacity for love I did not know I had. Those feelings did not die with him, nor will they, I pray, die with me.– Gordon Livingston

A tribute to Luijoe’s 10th angel year (May 27, 2000 – May 27, 2010)

Parents who have lost a child speak of the ““zero point”. Our lives are divided into the time before and the time after our children died. No event – no graduation, no marriage, no other death – so defines us. At one moment I was one person, then, suddenly, I was someone else. The task we face is to create with our new selves something that, in some measure redeems our suffering.

We see, always with longing, children who remind us of what our child was or would be now. (Gordon Livingston)
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Where I am today

DadoFamily214I often wonder how he would look like today. The young man as he often called himself even at 6 years old, is supposed to be an incoming college freshman, the last of my children to be in school.

Would he have been taller than my husband? Would he have the same gleaming smile? Will he still throw me kisses and give me a bunch of flowers with an ““I love you” note? Would he still be cracking jokes? I can’t imagine because I will always remember him as an innocent and beautiful 6 year old boy whose death caused my world to spin around and around. I still miss him dearly but the pain is not heart wrenching anymore. I don’t feel like I am drowning in pain. I yearn for him especially during birth and death anniversaries or when I see a boy similar to his age.

Like this very moment, I think of Luijoe. Tomorrow is his 10th angel year.

flowers

““I don’t know how you’ve survived. It would kill me to lose my child.” Oh, to have one peso for every time I heard that sentence! I’d spend every one of those pesos for an answer, for you see, I don’t know how I’ve survived. What choice did I have? Each transistion has been work, hard work, sorting through what it means and learning to function in the face of these circumstances not of my choosing. Five years living as a zombie and the next five years in my new normal.

My new normal as a blogger served me well: my role as a bereaved mother is no longer the first way I define who I am, but it is ever-present in my life and cannot be separated from all that I am . . . for the rest of my life.

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Ambivalent towards Erap

I feel ambivalent towards Erap.

I neither like nor dislike him. My feelings has something to do with the memories of my little boy. My 6 year old son adored Erap. Luijoe thought the world of the former president. Luijoe yelled at the top of his voice that Erap was the smartest president in the whole world, in a jumpacked room at a plane ticket office ten summers ago.

In his booming voice, he threw his hands up in the air , twirling around the room, “Mom, President Erap is so smart, the smartest president in the whole wide world”.

awkward silence

Nobody in that room could deny not hearing my son’s adulation. It was May 2000 at the height of Erap’s unpopularity. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow both of us. I could feel the steely gaze and snickers surrounding us. My boy never sensed the awkwardness of the situation but I wanted to save face.

“So , why is Erap the smartest president in the whole wide world?”, as I squeaked the question to my naughty son.

“Mom, his jokes mom. He says the funniest jokes. That is very smart of him” (or something like that)

See my son had a great sense of humor and loved to throw a joke or two. Then he discovered the Erap jokes during one of our conversations. Luijoe overheard us laughing to our heart’s content on an Erap joke. He wanted to know why were laughing. He badgered to know the joke. So I narrated the joke

Erap: Miss, do you have a ballpen?
Clerk: Sorry, sir we don’t have any ballpen
Erap (angry): Why did you name your store “Penshoppe“?

royal_elastics 043.jpgHow my boy laughed! Luijoe loved to tell this joke to everyone . One time, Luijoe and I passed by Penshoppe ( a teen fashion store) in Glorietta mall and I teased him if he wanted to go inside with me , so I could ask the same question Erap asked. Luijoe tugged me away. hehe

I bought him the book , “Joke ni Erap” by the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism in early 2000. Luijoe often packed this Erap Joke book in his backpack and kept re-reading those jokes that he could understand. He loved the book so much, he even labelled it with his name. Here are a few of his favorite jokes culled from that book.
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How my son inspired me to start a grief support advocacy

““My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?”

I can easily relate to one of the last words of a dying Christ.

Who has not, at some dark hour, cried out to the heavens in anguish and pain and wondered if indeed we have been cursed and abandoned by God ?

Picture 1.png
Image taken from Luijoe’s prayer book

The image of a dying Jesus Christ , a sorrowful Mother Mary and a comforting John never fails to bring me tears as poignant memories of my son drift into my mind. I wrote this story when I first started this blog 4 years ago and I think it is worth sharing again.

Being a “cafeteria Catholic” my religious faith was at best mediocre. Luijoe, my innocent and religious 6 year old son often chastised me for not praying hard enough . I felt like a terrible mother who led a ho-hum religious existence. Gosh, we learn so much from our children , don’t we? It is Good Friday , one of my treasured memories that remind me of my son. The image of the dying Jesus when he blurted out ” “Woman, behold thy son, Behold thy mother” struck a chord in my son’s heart.
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It has been 9 years….

I brought a child into the world and thought my life was complete.
I bowed my head and thanked the Lord for giving this child to me.
My dreams were of the future and of how my child would be,
Of how he would run and play games like hide-and-seek and always run back to me.
How could I live my life without my child – How could I possibly survive?
When the dreams I once had for my child were no longer alive?

heaven

Nine years have passed since Luijoe died. Another year marked off the calendar as we confront life without our precious child.

Anniversary dates stare out from the calendar. For most of us, the days of birth and death are the most prominent but so hard to acknowledge. The birthday that brought so much jubilation may now be but a fond and sometimes painfully wistful day of a “what might have been” memory. Then the lousiest day of the year, the day that is etched on some stone in the south of Manila, the day some of our sweetness left us forever. A reasonable amount of preparation in anticipation of this gloomy day and the empty sadness it brings doesn’t really help. We are aware about these death anniversary dates which I’d rather call the Angel date.

You see, our family members are more irritable, tempers fly and tears easily roll down. Then we remember that Luijoe’s death anniversary is nearing. Ah yes, even if we were prepared for it. It is like standing at the shores of despair looking out at the waves below the sunset that is so beautiful while signaling the end of the day. These waves of profound sadness can be relentless and the big one is coming on that date. This knowledge never seems capable of preventing the wave from smashing us into our lonely reality.

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“Heaven’s Butterfly” – sharing part of the journey to help other grieving children

My friend Cathy and her daughter, Pia launched “Heaven’s Butterfly” yesterday. The book is published by Anvil and talks about the story of their life in the first year after Migi died. It specifically describes Pia’s journey from a place of sadness to a place of hope.

Pia was only seven when Migi died in 1998. Loss is a reality for children even at a very tender age. A child experiences grief in a cyclical manner. Meaning, they re-experience or re-visit the loss every time they pass through a developmental stage.

Cathy hopes that parents and teachers who read this book will come to realize that grief and loss, when it takes place, cannot just be swept under the rug. Losing someone is a real occurrence in a child’s world and we must allow that child to grieve. As adults and caregivers, we must do everything in our power to help them navigate that journey from sadness to hope.

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Mead Johnson’s Enfakid A+ Milk Formula Does Not Nourish Your Kids’ Brain

Oh the irony of Enfakid A+ Milk Formula with Nourishing the Brain and the Pursuit of Excellence!

Milk Formula Manufacturers are quite aggressive in their marketing campaign that they are not checking their “trying to be smart” ads. Blooey first pointed out the Enfakid Milk Ad as shown in the Inquirer (Page D3, October 22) and I want to re-post the photos and explanation below.


Flipping through PDI today, an ad reads… (page D3)

Flap opens to…

And then the milk formula in the corner.

Their ad further shows that

Your child can learn, discover and imagine far richer with Enfakid A+. Now with enhanced DHA levels that help brain cells communicate well to support your kid’s rapid mental development. Nourish the brain. Pursue Excellence”.

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