WE ARE all broken. It was just too sudden, like a thunderclap from out of the blue, leaving a cloud of disbelief in its path. It still hangs above us all, refusing to clear and move away. When the first news of your condition reached us, all I could think of was wishing I were there with you all at the hospital.
A day of waiting after that, followed by brief reports that there was a glimmer of hope you’d pull through and recover, however slowly. Then just as suddenly, we got the video call, you’ve already gone.
Yesterday, I must have viewed again and again a video, taken a few years ago, of you holding a lighted birthday cake while your cousins heartily sang to you, “happy birthday.” Yes, that magical gleam in your eyes was present as always, captured and perfectly complemented only by your beautiful and innocent smile. To admit, I have tried several times to snap a freeze-framed copy, a screenshot if you will, but without much success. I just could not capture what I looked for; an essence (or was it an aura) of you, which I wish to always cling to, one that celebrates you, as being a precious and unique part of all of us.
Too soon, too sudden, that was the only thought running without pause in my head. What was worse, there was little sign you were leaving, never to be with us again. As though in a trance, I have looked back at all the family photos with you, and that only hurts more because I realize that was as far as I could go.
Back in my screenshot attempts, I thought for one instance that I finally got your frozen smile, the one I wanted. But when I looked again, the still image only showed that you had already blown the candle on the cake with only a wisp of smoke to show for it. Was that the closer in all of this, I thought. Was that you telling me, in my still-unaccepting state, you are gone and this is goodbye?
Because I remember before you left for the US, I reminded your sister that we wanted to have a farewell meal with you guys before you left, but alas, that didn’t happen. So we were not able to meet face to face to hug and bid you a proper farewell. I guess I have to shoo that cloud of disbelief away then and wish it to be on its way.
Last night, part of my dreams involved seeing you and your papa walking together on a white sand beach while we in the family watched from a boat. That was a good dream, and I know it is where you are right now.
In retrospect, I once wrote an article about our house in Bajada, and lovingly referred to it as a ‘house of spirit’ because I imagine that was the part of heaven where all who had gone before us gathered on weekends. I wrote:
“As time goes by, while a number of us and those whom we love naturally pass on, they do not merely go into nothingness to be forgotten. Instead, they move in that special space in our memories and dwell in the true ancestral home where there is no sadness. Throughout all this interplay of life and death, one comforting thought is sure (those who’ve gone before) eagerly wait to welcome us on the other side when it is our time to go venture (back) into our house of spirits. While it had been a long time ago when we were welcomed into this world as babies, so it shall be again.”
Welcome home, our beloved Kootch. Go with God.
