“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.” – Washington Irving
As Kumagi walks through his town, he stares in wonder at the destruction around him.
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I saw the news in Twitter. Angelo Reyes got shot.
“Who was Angelo Reyes?” I asked in Twitter.
The corruption charges against the General Garcia was not something I really followed because I was busy with other matters like the Reproductive health issue. Besides, one of the bloggers was going to write about it.
Twitter was then buzzing with shock and wondering what happened.
Did he feel he could no longer hold his head high, with his former underling telling the world how he (Reyes) had left the military service with millions in people’s money?
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A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. ~Marion C. Garretty
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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A simple enough pleasure, surely, to have breakfast alone with one’s husband, but how seldom married people in the midst of life achieve it. – Anne Morrow Lindbergh
It is a blessed Sunday morning as I take breakfast with my husband. These days, I don’t read newspapers unless I want to collect that issue, Our netbooks are with us as we sip our coffee. This time around, I am taking warm calamansi-lemon drink to soothe my sore throat. It is an old folks home remedy that always works.
The house seems quieter without my other daughter’s booming voice at home. (I will write about this more). Lauren is fast asleep so it is just Butch and me. I am just grateful about today. The quiet moments with my husband at breakfast. Gazing at the two Siamese kitties lounging nearby makes me smile. I think I will be bonding more with my pet cat Missy.
I believe that happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast even if it is just once a week on a Sunday.
Andy Rooney best explains this bit of happiness.
For most of life, nothing wonderful happens. If you don’t enjoy getting up and working and finishing your work and sitting down to a meal with family or friends, then the chances are you’re not going to be very happy. If someone bases his happiness or unhappiness on major events like a great new job, huge amounts of money, a flawlessly happy marriage or a trip to Paris, that person isn’t going to be happy much of the time. If, on the other hand, happiness depends on a good breakfast, flowers in the yard, a drink or a nap, then we are more likely to live with quite a bit of happiness.
I regret being unable to join my good friend Noemi Dado on this extremely happy occasion. She and her husband are the best kind of friends any writer can ask for. She can agree to disagree and can find the whole path where neither integrity nor civility ends up being compromised.
I don’t know how Noemi gets her energy but it is amazing. So is her level of achievement. She takes teasing with aplomb and finds ways to do more and more without sacrificing family or friendship.
This Momblogger is a walking typing talking institution. Long may she remain so. Read her, learn from her, debate with her: enjoy her work as she enjoys learning and sharing with the world.
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak. Whispers the oe’r
fraught heart and bids it break. ~William Shakespeare
Picking up the pieces
As we as a nation try to salvage what bit of dignity of we can still salvage on the failed operation of the police, the failure of the government of Noynoy Aquino and the wanton disregard of some irresponsible members of the media for the safety of the hostages, we should also examine how we as Filipinos dealt with the situation and conducted ourselves. Yes, the incompetence of the police, corruption and government and perhaps the arrogant demeanor of some media outfits are so routine to us that we’ve accepted them as a fact of life and part and parcel of being Filipino but at the end of the day, we must not allow these so-called realities cloud our ability to feel compassion – and more importantly to show this feeling of sadness and grief outwardly to those who are really hurting.
““Poetry is about the grief. Politics is about the grievance.” Robert Frost
It was a wonderful morning when I wobbled over to the Director’s office at the UP Institute of Small Scale Industries (UP-ISSI). The month of January 1986 was just a few months before I gave birth to my eldest girl, Lauren and I was always in high spirits. I thought the new director just wanted to talk business. Meet and greet each other formally. It looked like he had great plans for UP-ISSI which didn’t include me. The new director informed me that my contract will be terminated. (UP then was in freeze hiring so I was always under a contract). Part of me died with the notice. I was angry, depressed, confused, hurt, and worried. I was so bitter and angry at the new director because I was passionate and competent in my job in research and consultancy. Sometimes I think he just terminated me because I was hired by the past director. I didn’t believe there was shortage of funds because I was hired through a foundation of the institute. I had high hopes about going back to work but they never hired me back. It was really a devastating loss. It wasn’t even the financial aspect that made me feel bad. The research and consultancy work served as part of my identity, a place to use my skills and talents and watch them build over time as I believed I became more competent at them. I went through the grief process of anger, denial, barganing in that roller coaster ride and finally accepting the loss.
I guess there is a silver lining to all this. I became a full-time mother devoted to bringing up my children. If I continued on with my work at UP-ISSI, I would have been such a workaholic with little time for my growing kids.
When someone talks about grief, it is often associated with a death of a loved one. When I started this blog, I talked of my grief journey after my son’s death. There are other areas of life in which loss results in grief that is just as real. One of these is being experienced more and more often due to the current trend of companies to ““down-size.”
““I would rather die a meaningful death than to live a meaningless life.” Corazon C. Aquino
That photo above is a screen capture of me taken from the Laban ni Cory documentary. I feel honored to be part of the memorable documentary. I had no idea that video was taken until someone told me. It looks like I was reflecting as I ventured out on my first attempts of citizen journalism.
Through all the combined 15 hours of coverage during your funeral procession, this has got to be the greatest outpouring of love that I have witnessed in all 52 years of my life.
I will not forget the people who sacrificed their lives for democracy.
I will make sure that my readers are aware of the implications of the Constituent Assembly before the 2010 elections, and that we should oppose Charter Change perpetuating President Arroyo and her allies in power.I will continue with the fight, to help maintain our democracy.
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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