They kept referring to him as “the child”.
I wanted to scream at them that “hey, the child has a name!”
That beautiful child’s name is Luijoe.
But I did not yell at them because…
One of my fondest memory of Luijoe are the wild flowers he gathered from the park . With eyes twinkling as he held out the flowers, he scrambled up to my lap , gave me a hug and smacked a wet kiss on my cheek while uttering I love you so very much, Mama. Today it’s my turn to get flowers for my boy because July 13 is his 14th birth anniversary. But who says there can’t be a birthday cake, birthday present, or a birthday party?
Death ended my child’s life but not his relationship with my family. Even if there is no birthday boy to celebrate his 14th birthday with, I know that a spritual bond exists between us. As I gaze at the lovely flowers I bought at the Market! Market!, I marvel at God’s creation on the beauty of life. It’s good to be alive and to have survived the past 7 years of this grief journey. True, my son might not be around but his memory lives in my heart. We can still celebrate his birth anniversary at home.
It is hard to imagine when we are in the midst of heavy grief that any good will ever come out of it. What we have lost is not replaceable , any more than the loss of a child is made up for the birth of another child. I have been witness to the unimaginable pain of four bereaved mothers who lost their only child/children. When the Compassionate Friends launched formally in January 2006, a sudden dearth of parents wanted to meet up for coffee. Those who were not within Metro Manila , just wanted to talk over the phone. And so this was how I met four courageous women who were in their mid-thirties. (Some events were changed to protect their identity)
Mom no. 1 lost her only child, a 6 year old girl through leukemia
Mom no. 2 lost her two children (a girl and boy) in the same year.
Mom no. 3 lost her eldest and only son/child through stillbirth
Mom no. 4 lost her eldest and only son after a failed congenital heart operation.
(Now don’t think this is all depressing… let me just finish)
A writer of a local movie production company wanted to speak to me about The Compassionate Friends, a grief support group for family members who have lost a child through death.
You know, I often receive all sorts of legitimate and stalkerish type of text messages . One time someone sent me this message “I want to be your passionate friend”
*sigh* Now you understand I need to be wary sometimes.
So anyway, the person texted back that we’re doing a movie about a family that lost a child. It would be helpful for me if I could immerse myself and capture what bereaved parents feel.
To immerse meant to attend our regular meeting. I told her it wasn’t possible because our meetings are confidential and only for bereaved family members. Even if I get permission, new members might not be open to the idea of a writer in our midst. I suggested I talk to her first before I decide to gather a group of bereaved parents for a special session.
If indeed this person is from the movie industry, I truly welcome this opportunity to educate the public on grief and family recovery. After all, grief education is a segment of The Compassionate Friend’s mission. We still live in a world where grief is a taboo topic.
I also want to see if this person is a legitimate writer. Even if she is legitimate, will their movie portray it as accurately as possible?
When it comes to developing the dramatic portion of the movie, the writer can conceive all possible scenarios of pain, anguish, desperation and all the undescribable emotions during the grief journey. The death of our child, or children, is a profound and enduring loss; so far as each of us can, we pick up the pieces of our shattered lives and try to make some sense of what has happened. When a child dies, no matter what their age or the cause of death, grief lasts far longer than society in general recognizes. The death of a child is an unacceptable tragedy and it can take a long time before one can regain any sense of normality in their life.
The problem really is not the dramatic portion but the dialogue of the characters.
So I thought of listing down a wish list of ideas.
Whether the movies, TV shows or new reporting, here is my wish list on grief education:
The poignant thoughts of Pia’s entry about her seatmate, Senator Juan Flavier (who has now graduated from the senate) brought back memories of my own dad. Like Pia, I have a soft spot for senior citizens about the same age as my dad would have been today. Whenever I garner an achievement, I often think “dad would have been proud of me”, sometimes wishing I can catch my dad’s beaming smile with a nod of approval.
I am turning 50 years old this week and somehow I am thinking of the day my dad turned 50. My sister and I walked towards the UP shopping center so we could send a special card telegram to dad. Our greeting was:
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?
May marks another month , another year for you but May of any year since May 27,2000 reminds me that my son is no longer with me.It will be his 7th death anniversary this year.
So why am I still blabbering about my son? Have I not moved on?
This quote best sums up any parent who have lost their child.
““Death ended your child’s life but not his or her relationship to the family” and ““You give up the old person who was physically connected to a now deceased child and make different connections with your child who has died.”
I received many emails from friends or relatives describing how their bereaved relative or friend doesn’t seem to be moving on because the dead child’s items are still being kept or they still talk about them. Also there are emails from bereaved parents who claim they are often criticized and even ridiculed by others for expressing their continuing love and connection to their dead child.
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. There was even a time that I wanted to attend the Grade 6 graduation ceremony of Luijoe’s classmates last year. I just wanted to see how they look like hoping to catch a glimpse of my son’s face through them. When I learned that a blogger had a 13 year old son, I told her to hug him for me. So yeah, wishful thinking.
My prayers were answered last Sunday , well sort of…
“I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” (John11:25,25)
I have so much faith in the above biblical passage. Most bereaved families derive comfort from that verse with the hope of reuniting with their loved ones. It gives me hope that one day Luijoe and my family will be reunited in heaven with God. [tag]Resurrection day[/tag] or [tag]Easter day[/tag] reminds us that we will have life after we die – a resurrected life in heaven for eternity with Jesus!
Do you believe in [tag]eternal life[/tag]? Do you believe that our life here on Earth is temporary and our real home is heaven? How does one deserve to be in [tag]heaven[/tag]?
I am no stranger to death and dying. Let me count the ways:
Two of the above deaths were quite sudden without grief preparation of inevitable death unlike an illness where there is time to weep. I witnessed the dying and death of my mom, my son and my dad. The passing of our parents before us is a normal course in life. The passing of a young sibling and a child is not the normal course of events. It’s unimaginable.
Can you imagine the torment that the Mother Mary must have felt when she saw his dying son nailed to the cross?
Almost 7 years ago, my adorable son sat beside me while I worked on my computer.
With both hands planted firmly on my cheeks, he asked, ““Where is Heaven? Are the clouds heaven?”
Unsure of the answer, I mustered to say something based on what I learned from my Grade school [tag]Religion[/tag] subject…
““I’m not sure if the clouds are heaven, but it’s somewhere up there and hell is down there,” I said, kissing his fat cheeks.
Luijoe asked all of these questions two weeks before his untimely death.
What a lame answer! I wish I knew more what heaven is like.
Luijoe never tired of asking the same questions over and over again, as though reassuring himself that there were angels that protected him and that heaven was a beautiful place to go when someone died.
As I wrote in the book , Fallen Cradle, it seemed that my son was preparing himself for heaven even fearful he would go to hell because like any little boy, he could also be naughty.
““I don’t want to go to hell,” he hugged me.