This is my new normal

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Finding my new normal after a loss of a child was something I figured out along the way. Being a blogger is my new normal because I would not have blogged about my recovery if I didn’t have my stories of hope.

The last few days took my breath away. Nothing can ever prepare me whenever triggers of my loved ones’ memories hit me. I have never spoken of the 5 deaths in my family in a span of one hour. Truly, the death of my loved ones shifted the whole foundation of my life. Nothing is as it was.

One effect of losing a loved one especially if death is sudden and unexpected, is that we become newly aware of fragility of life. In the early years of my grief journey… I had this frame of mind. If this tragedy can befall me, what next? It made me fearful and almost paranoid. A mom whose daughter was killed in an auto accident tells me she cannot bear to have her other children come home later than she expected Text me if you’re going to be late. Even 10 minutes. She tells her.

Our security in this world is threatened. Our inner lives are in turmoil. Following the patterns of the day gave me some sense of order so that I will not break apart. I tend to be such a neat freak too. Yet, I recognize that these are primal and irrational fears but the loss I have gone through are not rational, either.

In time, I had the energy and courage to cope with the change. Learning to live a new normal is like learning a new language, a new way of seeing. In a way, I entered a new country. Though the terrain looks very much the same and many of the people are the same people, there is a different light over everything.

Remember how long it took when you moved into your new home or a new town, for it to seem like home? It is the same with a major life change. I had to get used to this new land, this new arrangement of people and relationships. It took time–time to look around, to be surprised, to be brought up short, over and over again. An inner tug of protest inside where I finally acknowledged ….Oh yes, it is different now.

This is my new normal. It is a blessing.

Remembering Luijoe on All Saints Day

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Remembering our departed loved ones on All Saints’ day and everyday of our lives.

all-saints-day
Did you know…the universal symbol of remembering is a candle?

Did you know…letting go of our loved one, but honoring their memory with a symbol is a ritual that brings healing? Sometimes words are not there to express what we want to say, but a symbol that brings meaning to us can help in the grief process.

candle-lighting2

We can’t know why some things happen…

But we can know that love

and beautiful memories

outlast the pain of grief.

And we can know that there’s a place

inside the heart where love lives always…..

And where nothing beautiful can ever

be forgotten.

Remembering Luijoe, and my immediate family members like my mom, my dad, brothers Ruben and Oscar today and everyday of my life.

luijoe

How “Acting As if” helped me in my recovery

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A year ago, my daughter shared me an article “Self help: try positive action, not positive thinking”

The self-help industry is mired in ideas about positive thinking that are at best ineffective and at worst destructive. If you want to be more confident or successful, says Richard Wiseman, the best thing to do is act the part

I have always believed positive thoughts should not end there but placed into action.

“Acting as if” is one of my favorite recovery tool that worked for me. By acting as if you are a certain type of person, you become that person, what I call the “As If” principle. To practice the positive, I act as if. It’s a positive form of pretending. It’s a useful tool to use to get ourselves unstuck. For many years after my son died, I isolated from friends . During the rare social gatherings I attended, I forgot how to initiate small talk. I was catatonic who preferred to be invisible amidst the light banter. I bet my friends or relatives felt their were talking to a blank wall. The only persons I socialzed were close family members. I realized the gravity of my people skills when I joined a parent’s group of my daughter’s colllege and I couldn’t say a word. I knew I needed to wake up from my zombie state.

I forced myself into positive recovery behaviors, disregarding my doubts and fears, until my feelings caught up with reality. Acting as if is a positive way to overcome fears, doubts, and low self-esteem. I did not have to lie or be dishonest with myself. It has been seven years since I used the “Acting as if” principle. I believed it worked because it was the only way to get out of the pit.

1. Becoming a media resource person

I acted as if I could speak up in public until I actually gained self- confidence and started to open up. When I started the grief support group, The Compassionate Friends, I was suddenly thrown into the media. The first interview and TV guest appearance terrified me. But how else will my mission get promoted? Acting as if I was confident enabled me to get through with these media exposure.

When I was invited to co-host Ratsada Inquirer shortly after my 55th birthday, I felt unsure if I could make it. I wanted to expand my horizons in order to share my advocacy or my opinions to a larger scale. So I “acted as if” I was confident even if I fumbled in my Tagalog. Acting as if I could be a great co-host, I started with being my usual self and adding a few Tagalog words here and there. I was relieved to get good feedback after the show which inspires me to continue. I constantly practice my speaking voice and Tagalog words.

2. Second wind in marriage

Acting as if also worked for my marriage. At the height of my grief in 2005, my marriage turned rocky to the point I considered separation but an accident forced me to work it out. Long story. Never in my wildest dream did I imagine myself with a broken ankle as I stepped inside my new pad. I had no choice but to live with my husband and work things out. Truly God works in mysterious ways. It was as if God said ” you can’t run away from your marriage. Try to fix it. Give it a second chance”. I acted as if I was back when we were first romantic couples dating in UP Diliman. That involved acting as if I was so romantic and it caught on. My husband probably did his part in acting as if were were steadies again.

“Fake it till you make it” is also called “act as if”. You probably heard this common catchphrase that means to imitate confidence so that as the confidence produces success, it will generate real confidence. It works.

Now, when a problem haunts me, acting as if can helps me get unstuck. I act as if the problem will be or already is solved so I can go on with my daily routine. Today, I have opened up to the positive possibilities of the future instead of limiting the future by today’s feelings and circumstances.

Here are 10 quick and effective exercises that use the As If principle to transform how you think and behave. Try to make a conscious decision to act as if you feel fine and are going to be fine.

The myth of closure

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So if someone says to us, by word or by action, “You should be over
that by now,” we can recall the words from the Talmud: “Judge no one before you have been in his place.”

my-childrenWhen people ask how many kids I have, I always say three children and pretty soon, the question goes on details like “are they in school”, “how old are they?” If I am not in the mood, I just say two children because the conversation will always lead to my son’s whereabouts. The moment I say my third child died 10 years ago, I feel a sense of discomfort.

More often than not “you’ve moved on , right?” , or “you found closure already?”

If a well-meaning friend said something inappropriate with respect to Luijoe’s death, I would try to focus on the intent of the comment instead of the comment itself. Maybe, my friend just didn’t know what to say.


Move on. It is just a chapter in the past but don’t close the book, just turn the page. – Unknown
Moving on does not mean closure…

However when they are acquaintances, I find it terribly annoying. The word “closure” carries with it an underlying message of impatience: “OK,” the person appears to be saying, “it’s time to get over it.”

Am I being overly sensitive? Perhaps.

It is not just me though. In meetings with the Compassionate Friends, the word “closure” bothers most parents. The “c word,” seemed to push all our buttons.

It is understandable that our friends feel uneasy in the presence of pain. How they wish they can take away our grief. That’s okay. But bereaved parents resent the implication of failure or self-absorption if one can’t adhere to a recovery schedule.

We do, in our own individual ways, gradually get better at bearing our loss. Mainly, the pain simply softens with the passage of time. Moving on means that we live a new normal never forgetting the love and memories of our beloved.

Ashley Davis Prend says that closure is not for people we love or for feelings.

Closure simply does not exist emotionally, not in a pure sense. We cannot close the door on the past as if it didn’t exist because, after losing someone dear to us, we never forget that person or the love we shared. And in some ways, we never entirely get over the loss. We learn to live with the loss, to integrate it into our new identity.

Imagine if we really could end this chapter in our life, completely. It would mean losing our memories, our connections to those we love. If we really found closure, it would ironically hurt even more because the attachment would be severed. And this attachment is vital to us—the memories are treasures to be held close, not closed out.

Perhaps it is better to think in terms of healing. Yes, we can process our pain and move to deeper and deeper levels of healing. Yes, we can find ways to move on and channel our pain into productive activities. Yes, we can even learn to smile again and laugh again and love again.

I have not closed the door on what my loss meant, for if I did that, I would inadvertently close the door on all the love that Luijoe and I shared. And that would truly be a loss too terrible to bear.

Luijoe, my son and The Seven Last Words

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Luijoe meadow somewhere in the North, where his grandparents live today

The Holy Week is one of the most memorable time of the year. Being a “cafeteria Catholic” my religious faith is at best mediocre. Luijoe, my innocent and religious 6 year old son often chastised me for not praying hard enough .

 


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

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 the Holy Week which reminds 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.


Luijoe photo taken at Luijoe meadow during Holy Week 2000

Every night, Luijoe pointed to that image asking me over and over again what it meant. He pointed to John the Beloved “Who is he? How is he related to the Mother of Jesus?” Strange he asked about John. I cuddled Luijoe in my arms and explained that the dying Jesus wanted John the Beloved to take care of his grieving mother. How was I to know that my own son would die the following weeks? During the funeral, I remember those last words and took it literally to mean that my family or my friends would take care of me in my bereavement, that there would be “John the Beloved” who will help me.

luijoe meadow

When a death as devastating as the loss of a child hits you, one tries to find meaning. One tries to make sense out of it. The time came when I realized that those last words were not about me. It was about me helping those who are in pain , because the grief journey is not easy. My son made sure that I would not be alone in this journey as long as I continue to help others. He made sure I remember to be the “John the Beloved” and be compassionate to other people’s pain.

luijoe meadow1

I look back and reflect on that poignant scene. It is my son’s way of reminding me that I will find comfort and still be a comfort to others:

He who was nailed to the cross, wanted to spare His mother further pain, not only for that moment, but for her entire future. He put her in the care of the apostle whom ““He loved” and whom He knew would care for her in return. Even as Jesus was dying, He went beyond himself to addresses someone else’s need.


Luijoe meadow at night, taken by Sean, my brother-in-law 2010 Christmas day

The Seven Last Words remind me of my son who died so young yet I know he continues to live in me through my work, my actions and devotion. Luijoe is with me everyday.

Here is something soothing:
Mozart Ave Verum Corpus por Leonard Bernstein

Life is about creating yourself

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“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” George Bernard Shaw

social media week
I caught the George Bernard Shaw quote a few days ago and it made me reflect back on my life. It is almost 16 years that my son passed away.

I do not recognize myself from the person I was in the past. I am more confident. I appreciate myself more. I have a new life, helping bereaved parents through the Compassionate friends , blogging and advocating social change for social good.  I am having the time of my life and feeling beautiful, loved and being loving.

I was a full time mother from 1987 till 2005 where I stayed home most of the time. Though I am proud to be a mom, I knew I was more than just a mother after finding myself in an empty nest. The desire to do more started when the kids went to college. There was this inner desire to provide public service like my father did.

In losing my son, I was meant to bring out my service oriented nature to other bereaved parents and the nation. Not that it had to take a death to push me there. I had to seek the meaning of life, and why I outlived my son. It brought my dormant talents of organizing and initiating service oriented projects (filipinaimages.com, blogwatch.ph, compassionatefriends.info, Philippine Blog Awards)

me and Te Amo Floristeria

I did not find myself. I had to go beyond my comfort zone, innovating myself, doing things that were not the old me.

Writing is not one of my talents. I had to learn to write creatively for the blog. I promoted my grief recovery blog not knowing that this was the start of my NEW NORMAL. I am now in online publishing and using this to bring awareness to my advocacy. Aside from grief recovery, I embarked into citizen media for voters education , and as a features editor for Philippine Online Chronicles. Me, an editor? From a homemaker , I am now thrust to a whole new world of media. Never in my wildest dream did I imagine I would be on TV, newspaper, radio, magazine as a resource person for grief, then later in blogging. Blogging gave me new friends, reconnected with old friendships, brought me to travel places. It taught me to be more confident.

I am happier. My son’s life ended too soon but I had to experience this pain and learn to go out of my comfort zone and reach out to others. That is the meaning of life I had to discover for myself.

It took me a long time to realize that grief is inevitable and that misery is optional.

What does do good is doing good. I decided to lead the second part of my life differently and better than I would have imagined “in the name of my son, Luijoe. I know that as I reach out to bereaved parents through The Compassionate Friends”, the world is changed in some small way for the better, and then the actions taken become my living tribute to my son. And then Luijoe is never entirely gone.

Life is good.

digital marketing future of media

It’s been 40 years since my mom died of breast cancer

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mommy.jpg It was a warm Sunday afternoon in 1972 as mom and I were taking a siesta by the porch. I still remember that fateful day when mom anxiously took my hand so I could feel the lump in her left breast. I felt the soft mass but I had no inkling that it was cancer then. Cancer does not happen to us. It’s an illness we just hear from other families like my next door neighbor who survived it anyway. I quickly erased the negative thoughts from my mind. Mom got operated that same week and it wasn’t good news. Her left breast had to be removed including part of her armpits where cancer cells invaded her lymph nodes.

Physical Therapy, radiation, chemotherapy, hair loss, a dozen wigs, remission, a relapse, a trip to New York to visit Betty Ford’s doctor, a visit to Lourdes, France for miracle water, black chickens for sacrifice, aphasia ensued for the next 3 years. Despite all the measures, mom died on July 25, 1976 at the age of 45 years old. I was on my third year of college in UP Diliman and together with my siblings, Lorna and Oscar, we took the plane to Cebu. I peered down the runway as the raindrops splashed the glass window as if in unison with the tears that fell down my cheeks. I was sad that my mom was probably dying and even sadder at the thought that my dad would suffer the pain of losing a wife. I wasn’t particularly close to my mother. Years of verbal and even physical abuse brought that awkward distance between us. Yes, it’s sad I didn’t feel maternal love from her. And vice-versa.

During the wake, we were told by the family doctor never to take birth control pills as it could trigger breast cancer cells. I forgot the reason behind this now.

Years later, I became a mother myself. A friend was dying of breast cancer. A worried Butch implored that I take a breast exam to rule out any breast cancer which could be in our genes. I was only 39 years old and I thought maybe I should take that mammogram before I hit 40 years old at about the time mom discovered the lump.

I took that painful mammogram test where the machine squashes your breast as it takes an x-ray. The results were not good. I quickly called David, my brother who was then a neurology resident at some medical school in the Philippines (the University of the Philippines-Philippine General Hospital (UP-PGH) ).
There was some hazy mass showing up on my left breast which was not palpable. It’s the same spot where mom had the lump. David strongly advised me to have immediate surgery to have it checked if it was benign or not. My brother said that breast cancer cells can be so aggressive and can quickly replicate in a few weeks. Shocked at two doctors’ medical opinion, I told myself that I cannot die now. Not when my kids are still so young. Lauren was only 10. M was 9 and Luijoe was 3 years old.

me_and_luijoe.jpgNo, I cannot die yet.

I cried in bed and my thoughts went to my mom during the days she suffered from the ravages of her breast cancer. I imagined her in the same situation , livid with fear of leaving my young kids and husband. Then I prayed and asked for forgiveness and understanding for all those years that we drifted apart. Bearing a grudge or deep resentment on someone is like cancer cells eating up your heart and mind. With the release of negative emotions of the past, I was ready for my surgery but first I took the day off before surgery to be with my kids at the play center in the mall. Thinking I might die on the operating table, I held on to these precious moments by having a fun photo shoot with my kids. I thought with a heavy heart .

They will look back to these memories and remember that their mom loved them so much.

kids.jpgI surrounded my hospital room at the Philippine General Hospital with these photos. Just before I left for the surgery, I gazed lovingly at the photo of my three beautiful children.

I can’t leave you yet. God, don’t let me die.

I needed a needle localization of my “breast mass” because it was not palpable and my surgeon need to know the exact location of this mass. With the long needle stabbed on to my left breast, my brother wheeled me over to the surgery room. There waiting for me was an outstanding surgeon, Dr. Rodney Dofitas, my brother-in-law. I gave instructions for him to remove my breast if found to be malignant. With everything in order I counted to ten as I fought back the anesthesia to kick in

Much later, I woke up to my brother-in-law who cheerfully announced that the breast mass was benign. He excised the mass for extra precaution, hence my left breast is a smaller than my right one. I don’t mind the disfigurement at all.

My heart just leaped with joy. I couldn’t help but cry and thank God for giving me this second chance. My friend died a year after my surgery. When I reached my 46th birthday, I thanked God for each additional year in my life that my mom didn’t enjoy. I celebrate each year with joy and gratitude that my kids still had a mother in their growing up years. Every additional year is a bonus.

It’s been 40 years since my mom died of breast cancer and technology for early breast cancer detection is in place. Even the medications increase chances of survival. There is even breast reconstruction surgery. Talk to your doctor soon.

 

pink for october

boobiethon1.jpgGo Pink in Support of Breast Cancer Awareness. National Breast Cancer Awareness Month is dedicated to increasing awareness of the importance of early breast cancer detection.

Photo above was taken a few months before mom discovered her breast cancer in 1972

On my Luijoe’s 22nd birthdate: Love lives on

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When you remember me, it means that you
have carried something of who I am with you,
that I have left some mark on who I am on who you are.
It means that you can summon me back to your mind
even though countless years and miles may stand between us.
It means that if we meet again, you will know me,
and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.
For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost.
~Frederick Buechner

Oh you’re not six years old anymore. I gushed over my boy. Luijoe, you’re so handsome! . I kept on hugging and kissing his sunburnt cheeks. Luijoe smiled and looked embarassed. Haha, maybe he didn’t want to be fussed over that much. After all he is now a young man not a little boy. Now I know how you look like as a 22 year old, I whispered to him, as I untangled the twisted knots from his long hair. Luijoe appeared again in my dreams. In my dream, we were back at our old house in Pasig, the house where he was born. I was aware that he died already so I wasn’t broken-hearted when I snapped out of lala-land. I felt so good to see him once again. It felt so real that I lingered in bed just savoring that poignant dream. This doesn’t happen often and I bet Luijoe appeared in my dream because it is July 13.
A few years ago, I pondered on how Luijoe looked like as a teenager. I always think of my son as forever “six years old” . I can’t help thinking of his looks since he is supposed to be twenty two years old today. Early this month, my husband dreamt of him as a tall, lanky and handsome boy almost his height at 5 feet 9 inches. I wished that I could also see him in my dreams. Even just in a dream. And true enough, last night my husband and I dreamt of him in different circumstances. Dreams and memories are all we have left of our beautiful son but that’s enough to get us by till we meet again.

luijoe is 22

Yes, it is July 13th but there is no birthday cake, no birthday presents, no birthday party and no birthday boy to celebrate his 22nd birthday with. Despite the limitations, we will celebrate Luijoe’s day with a simple home-cooked lunch of pasta and barbecue with my family. As always, I will light a candle in his memory table and visit his resting place to place some flowers. As I light a candle in Luijoe’s memory , I do so with gratitude that he lived and that we shared a life with so much love.

I will continue to keep Luijoe’s memory alive in my heart and in my mind since it is a very important part of who I am today. I want his memory to live on forever and for Luijoe to never be forgotten.

I take comfort knowing the fact that everything I had with Luijoe when he was alive still lives in me. He lives in every word and action I do for the rest of my life.

My beloved son, in our arms for a little while, in our hearts forever.

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My heart still aches to hold you
I close my eyes and see,
Your face now, 15 years later
And who you were to be.

luijoe my angel

In our arms for a little while, in our hearts forever.
It’s been 15 years. Love never dies.

Today is Luijoe’s death anniversary, the “Angel date” as the Compassionate friends call it.

My daughter messaged me, “Hope you’re not too sad today” and I said “Am okay. Tears are not buckets anymore. Just tear drops.”

” Tears are words the heart can’t express.” Sometimes, there are just no words to describe the overwhelming loss.

Though the pain and sorrow still flows 15 years later, I know one day we will be reunited. I maintain a sacred bond with my son which is very vital to my well being. I have these moments when I dream and imagine what my son looks like now. He’s such a handsome boy.

luijoe2

I catch myself glancing at other boys, children of friends with similar age as Luijoe. There is Dine’s daughter and Jane’s son with similar ages. I can’t help but smile at how grown up they are because at the back of my mind…this is how Luijoe is today at 21 years old.

luijoecouch

I wonder if my Luijoe would still be singing as he used to do as a six year old kid. He loved watching his two older sisters during choir practice. Pop music fascinated him . He would always ask me to download mp3 files of his favorite songs at Napster. Then he would sing and dance to the music. That always made me smile. I took note of his mp3 playlist at my old computer right after his death as follows:

You can check out my Spotify playlist

1. Mirror, Mirror- M2M
2. Never be the same again- Melanie C
3. Feeling so Good- Jennifer Lopez
4. Oops I did it again – Britney Spears
5. Bye Bye Bye- NSync
6. Northern Star- Melanie C
7. Dear Lie- TLC
8. How can I not love you- Joy Enriquez
9. Be with you- Enrique Iglesias
10. Never Let You Go- Third Eye Blind

These are the thoughts that I want to picture 15 years later. I can’t help but smile and tear with these thoughts . But one thing is certain after all these years. In my heart, Luijoe lives on, always there, never gone. I can hear him whispering in my thoughts:

And I will be beside you
Every day and week and year,
And when you’re sad I’m standing there
To wipe away that tear.

luijoe-at-luijoe-meadow1

I am a mother of three children. Thank you for remembering my son.

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I love the thought that my son is still alive in someone’s memory outside of my family. Today , being Mother’s day, I received a lot of greetings but this one touched me the most:

Sorry we haven’t been in touch. You’re always in my thoughts. It’s an honor to meet such a youthful looking mom like you. You’re getting younger each year. Thank You for leading by example to all Pinay moms. Your story of ‘recovery’ is a powerful force on what can mothers do for their kids. Your son couldn’t be prouder. …! Happy Mother’s Da !

luijoe and me. If someone greeted me a Mother’s day greeting 15 years ago, I would have cried . Mother’s day is a terrible day for those of us who have lost a child recently. Over the years, I’ve come to understand that I’m not alone at all like this mother who wrote about the the real challenge after losing a child: moving forward. As G.K. Chesterton wrote, “We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.”

Oh, I remember those days in early grief when it took every ounce of strength to just get through a minute of a day. Time indeed helped tame my emotions over Luijoe’s death so much but sometimes when the question about children and numbers come up, I feel stumped. All parents who have lost a child sometimes don’t know how to answer that question.

The question How Many Children Do you Have pops up in any social gatherings.

You see, I can answer that one now. You all know I have 3 children. I don’t have to explain that to most of you, Yes, it depends on the person asking and when and where it is asked. If it is asked by a stranger at a restaurant where I sit with my two girls, it is usually assumed that I have two children. I let that slide because it is more or less something like, “Are these your two children?” and of course, I reply, they are.


two-lovely-daughters
If someone I’ve just met at church or a social gathering asks me how many children I have I will tell him or her that I have two on earth and one in heaven. Sometimes, the person does not know how to react and backs out with any follow-up question. This most certainly hurts. I can’t also blame them because death can be an uncomfortable topic to most people who can’t handle a tragic story. That’s why when I am not in the mood to explain, I just say “Two children”. There are some that ask about my boy in Heaven and I appreciate the opportunity to speak Luijoe’s name and talk about his life.

It is comforting to hear friends say “Luijoe”. It always makes me smile.

luijoecouch

Each bereaved parent has their trigger point or point of pain. The number three when it comes to children sometimes hits me. Thoughts hover inside my head. I am a mother of three. A different grouping- two here and one in Heaven. But am I not still a mother with three kids?

my-children