In memory of Jose Luis (Luijoe) Dado, on his 7th Angel Date
May 27, 2000- May 27, 2007
My son , an hour before he went to heaven
Dear son,
It’s been seven long years since I last cradled you in my arms.
For many years I struggled searching for answers to the question…
Why God?
Why God is it taking so long for the judge to act on the (our) civil case?
This entry has now been turned into a blog. Please read Techie Gadgets
(Luijoe’s last Christmas in 1999, Baguio City)
Christmas is a special time of year. Although shiny decorations and twinkling lights are the window dressing for this exciting festivity, it is the warmth and love of family and friends that make the holiday season so memorable. However, it can be a painful time for those experiencing the recent loss of a loved one. It must be hard for the newly bereaved family members who lost Anne Sherina only last Monday, December 18, 2006. Anne Sherina died of “pulmonary affliction due to Dengue Shock Syndrome”. Grief in Christmas is doubly daunting for this family.
So when ABS-CBN “Salamat Doc” called me up to guest live for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve 6:00 AM episode, I didn’t hesitate. Though my busy schedule was full, I made room for this show. I know there are a lot of newly bereaved and seasoned grievers who are still coping with the difficulties of the holidays. My heart sometimes still echoes with emptiness as I roll out the gingerbread dough or hang the Christmas Angel cookies near Luijoe’s Memorial shrine. I think that hurt will always be with me, but now I know it only as a momentary ache – not like the first year when grief drowned over me in huge waves, each new wave hurling me deeper and deeper into despair.
My husband and I have walked that difficult road every Christmas.
The staff took a VTR of how I coped with Christmas through the years. I showed Luijoe’s memorial table, his memory box, toys, books and all the angel decors of our family den. I thought that my husband would buckle down in tears because he has never opened Luijoe’s photo album in years. The staff told us to sift through Luijoe’s photos. This VTR is indeed therapy for my husband. Knowing we are helping others gives us the courage to share our story, on how we coped and survived. We want to show that love isn’t something that ends with death.
Today is the third death anniversary of my dad. I miss my dad terribly. My dad outlived two of my brothers, my mom and his grandchild, Luijoe. It’s a grand slam. He was a bereaved spouse, a bereaved father and bereaved grandfather. Now who could beat that? During the funeral of my brother, Oscar in April 1999, my dad collapsed right after the burial. Dad never got to walk again till his death in December 5, 2003. I didn’t tell dad that Luijoe died because my dad was already sick in the year 2000. Another loss would surely devastate him. We were afraid dad would join him in death if he ever found out, knowing how he doted on all his grandchildren. We couldn’t risk telling him because we were not ready to see dad go yet. Four years later, dad died of complications from diabetes and hypertension. Often, I question God why my father who was a good man, a loving father, a generous provider had to suffer for 4 years. All these deaths in my family made me wonder if our family was cursed or something. Should I dare say that I am blessed that God took my family members? That my dad, mom , two brothers and son ‘s mission on earth is done?
I know my father was not perfect but I adored him. When I was in college, dad often travelled to Manila to visit us at our dorms. He was never too busy to set aside family time for us. As a young widower, he often brought his girlfriend when we had dinner. We encouraged dad to re-marry but he never did. He didn’t want to cause a family rift. I thought husbands were made like my dad. I was so wrong. A lot of my marital problems was because I compared my husband and dad. Hehe, I think my husband also compared me to his sweet mom. Too bad, he married a bitch.
Christmas is fast approaching and I remember how dad made it so much fun for us. I will always associate Christmas with my dad. He literally spoiled us to death. The best gift dad ever gave us was the gift of laughter. Dad’s booming laughter often rings in my ear even in times of adversity. It is the same gift that I continue to give to my children when the going gets rough.
In honor of my dad, I now sign as Noemi Lardizabal-Dado because much of who I am is because of my dad. My dad lives on in me and in my work. I can just imagine my dad smiling at me as I do service to others.
(Photo above is my dad during a Christmas presentation where he dances to the music “Macho Man”)
All Saints Day seems more like a school fair to me except there are gravestones, tents, picnic tables all over the cemetery. The mood at the cemetery is festive with children running around, the ice cream man ringing his bell, the taho vendor yelling taho, kids playing with melting candle, teens surfing at the SMART BRO internet booth, food vendors raking in some sales from the crowd. It’s a yearly ritual for our loved one whom we love, miss and remember always. Once a year, we share that common bond with families with a similar loss.
The first All Saints Day for Luijoe in 2000 felt surreal. The marble tombstone felt cold to the touch but the laughter and the crowd reminded me that Luijoe is never far from me. To my dear son, my dad, my mom, brothers Oscar and Ruben, they have not really left us but just gotten ahead of us to their real home. The memory of my loved one is a part of my life forever. Today is a celebration that love never dies.
My husband and I just arrived from an overnight trip from Baguio. Oh I just love Baguio on a non-peak month. Traffic was so smooth all the way to Baguio and back. We were supposed to stay at the Baguio Country Club but the club gave such a lovely promo to its members , like pay one night for a two nights stay . Naturally, all the rooms were fully booked. We decided to stay at my husband’s ancestral home instead. Not quite the romantic interlude I expected for the weekend but oh well, at least I was with my loving husband. Revisiting Baguio is such a bittersweet experience. Every summer and Christmas season, we bring the three kids to bond with their roots or rather with their father’s roots. I also bring them to Cebu, where I grew up. Camp John Hay is one of the places that my son and I use to play during the summer months. I have not been here for such a long time since his death. I cannot help but miss his physical presence so I breathe in the cold pine scent hoping to feel a spiritual connection with him. Knowing he was here at one point in his life is enough to make me smile.
I looked around for a wifi enabled coffee shop on an early sunday morning.
The best place to get an internet wi-fi is at the Filling Station in Camp John Hay. It’s quiet and has a spectacular view of the pine trees. There is a butterfly farm beside it but the rains prevented me from strolling further. So there I was sipping coffee and looking out at the pine trees hoping to catch a moment in time. Those moments when the laughter of my son and girls used to reverberate the cool air of this city. God, how I miss those days.
The mother of a my husband’s brother-in-law passed away early this morning. Although the mom was ill for the last two months, her death was still sudden. A few minutes before she passed away, she scribbled a note saying “Welcome J and A”. It’s like she knew she was leaving. Since the children are all based abroad, they had to rely on friends and relatives to check on things while they prepared for their trip to the Philippines. How stressful it must be for them to think of all the funeral arrangements. Having experienced 5 deaths in my immediate family from 1976 to 2003, the stress alone in funeral arrangements is overwhelming. While on our way to the chapel tonight, I told my husband that we should consider having funeral insurance (I forgot the term for it). I can’t imagine having to burden our children with our funeral.
When my father died in 2003, the “funeral assistance” component of my sister’s Philamlife plan did a wonderful job of coordinating paperwork, details for the coffin, the funeral car etc. All we had to do was approve it or provide suggestions. This was not the case when my son died in 2000. One does not expect to bury your child so one is totally unprepared for this formidable task. An accidental death in a city far away from home added to burden. Where can we get 70,000 pesos at 7:00 PM to pay for the coffin? Where can we get the death certificate at this time of the night? On a saturday night? What ? Where? How? By God’s grace, friends and political connections produced the cash and the death certificate. The task of choosing a coffin is the most depressing job ever but it needs to be done. My 14 year old daughter sensed my hesitation and held my hand as we shopped for a coffin. Walking like a zombie, I jolted from my stupor when she pointed to a purple coffin.
A purple coffin , mom!
huh?
Oh no, dear. Luijoe is a boy and he can’t be buried in a purple coffin.
For a brief moment, mother and daughter laughed. We found humor in an otherwise depressing situation.
See, if there was a funeral events coordinator ( much like a wedding events coordinator), we would not have to face such a
daunting and crazy task. In my deepest despair, I might have ended up agreeing with Lauren’s choice of a purple coffin.
The blog is indeed a nifty tool for long lost friends who want to reconnect with you.
With the aid of google search, two friends I haven’t heard in years found me through my blog. One is Betty who is now based in Singapore. The last time we saw each other was in Sampaguita Residence Hall at the UP campus in 1978. Suddenly, my memories brought me back to those carefree years when we would gossip on our latest crush , search for dinner or just hang out in our rooms. I don’t know why I lost touch with Betty. It must have been because we left for the province after graduation or we were too caught up looking for jobs. Then there is Bing, my officemate at the UP Institute for Small Scale Industries. She is now in New York. Am I really that bad in communicating with friends whenever a milestone occurs in my life? Bing said that the last time she saw me was when Lauren was a few months old. How terrible I am.
I don’t think I meant to overlook or neglect friendships. I know that there are some friendships that wax and wane , going through cycles throughout the years. Some trail off when one person outgrows the other. I just didn’t know how to take care of myself during my early years of marriage. I thought family should come first. But I know better now. Friends are a joy. Adult friendships can be a good place for us to learn to have fun and to appreciate how much fun we can have with a friend. A friendship is a comfortable place to be ourselves. Bing and Betty are two friends that I want to reconnect. Hopefully I can visit Singapore or New York within the year.
I thought friendster was also another way to communicate with long lost friends until my techno-challenged hubby questioned me in a tone that sounded a wee suspicious. This conversation occured during our troubled marital years.
“Why are you at friendster?“.
“huh? How did you know that?” (sounding a bit defensive after hearing his suspicious tone)
“My fraternity brods saw your Friendster profile.”
“Let me explain. I am in [tag]Friendster[/tag] so that high school or college classmates know how to reach me. Ahhhah. you thought I placed that up because I want to date? Don’t you know friendster is also for social networking? Oh….and did your brods tell you that my photo is that of our son, Luijoe????.”
That shut him up.
My friendster photo has since been changed to our couple photo . And dear hubby is not so technically-chaellenged anymore.
My husband’s office is in Intramuros and we often date at the quaint old coffee shops like the Illustrado . As students in the late seventies, we went as far as Luneta Park just because we were broke. Old Manila and its splendor enraptures our heart . The atmosphere is just romantic for sentimental couples like us. During all the years we’ve been together, we never caught the [tag]sunset[/tag], overrated as it is, my daughter often says. So who cares? It’s the company you keep. When I fetched Butch at work last week, we dropped by the boardwalk just to stroll. No we were not broke. We just wanted to walk and talk. Sadly, the boardwalk was closed or abandoned. Corny as it is, the sunset was breathtaking especially since I was walking hand in hand with the love of my life. I couldn’t get a clear shot because the ship and the boardwalk covered the sun.
That’s my younger brother , Reuben who died on June 11, 1990 due to fulminant Hepatitis A. He left behind a young wife, a three year old and a three week old infant son. There is more to his death than just an illness. This feature article written by my sister Belen thirteen years ago explains it more. (Read here and here)
Reuben Veloso Lardizabal, 28 , was a young family man, a writer, a labor ogranizer, and a law graduate student. He was in other words, full of promise and conviction. But death spares no one. He is the Hepatitis epidemic’s first casualty.
Last May 1-4, 1990, our family helds it’s first reunion in Cebu City, including our children, husbands, and wives. Little did we know that this joyous occasion would also lead to one of the saddest moments in our live.
Three weeks after our reunion, I, my brothers David and Reuben, my sister Lorna , and niece Lauren were struck down with Hepatitis A, a viral infection of the liver transmitted through fecal contamination of ingested food or water. We were unaware initially that several other residents and neighbors in the Lahug district, Cebu City had also been suffering from hepatitis since May. Surprisingly , most of the victims were from middle to upper income bracket.
On June 11, 1990, my dear brother Reuben succumbed to the ravages wrought on him by acute viral hepatitis. Our family held a second reunion- this time , for Reuben’s funeral. (Continue reading here and here)
