Grief.
I’ve lost the number of times I’ve been through it. Thrice from the death of significant people in my life, countless other times from the death of intangible things – dreams, plans, relationships…
My way of dealing with grief has changed over the years, but the pain is still the same, if not worse, with each new experience. My Mom passed away unexpectedly when I was 16, and I forced myself to breeze through mourning by keeping myself busy. Grief denial kept me functional, but repressed feelings surfaced from time to time at the most inconvenient instances. My Dad suddenly passed away 4 years ago and having learned my lesson, I was more open about how I felt. I think it helped give me that sense of closure. But now this. A week ago, I brought my husband home in an urn.
It didn’t matter that we had separated almost a year ago. It didn’t matter that I found ways to take care of our daughters when he was incapable of doing so. It didn’t matter that his prolonged hospital admissions felt like practice runs for this season that I am in now. It only mattered that when I saw him on the floor, all I could think of was that this man whom I valued above all didn’t think that his life was precious enough to be lived. I kept calling his name and I was surprised with myself — I never thought my own voice could sound so broken – but I couldn’t stop.
Every day for the past week, I’ve posted pictures and anecdotes to remember the man I fell in love with. The one who loved me back. Every night (or early morning), I cried until I felt like I’ve completely used up my day’s supply of tears. There were some pretty good memories in there. Quite a lot, actually. And when I felt like I was tired enough to sleep, I lay down and emptied my heart to God.
Yesterday, I finally mustered the strength to take a walk in the garden and check on my plants. I intentionally left my phone in the bedroom, so that I could lose a few hours without being conscious of the time. A couple of plants needed to be watered, so I grabbed the hose and started surveying the rest of the yard. There are a couple of spider plants lining the plant box at the far end of our garden. They’ve been there for years, so I was familiar with its pattern of growth and dormancy. It usually dies back in the summer when the weather is too hot and remains dormant as small tubers under the ground. I once tried to “cheat” it out of its cycle by watering it as regularly as I could. It would sprout a few new leaves, but it often ended up dying back again. I gave up and decided to let nature take its course.
When I checked that part of the garden, I was surprised to see a couple of healthy leaves poking out of the earth. I walked the rest of the way and saw that each plant had sprouted new leaves. I’ve been watering these guys almost daily for a while and nothing happened, but it rained like what, 3 or 4 days ago, and now they are coming to life. I found it odd yet strangely comforting, because the first thing that came to my mind was, “Iba talaga ‘pag si Lord ang nag-alaga”. I thought that maybe there were parts of the plant that I couldn’t reach with my watering, but the rain soaked through the earth and was able to penetrate the deeper layers.
And then I thought of Karlo, of how much I tried so hard to nurture him and make him feel loved in the 7 years that we shared together. He was at the point where he had accumulated years and years of feeling repressed and rejected, that he had started to doubt the goodness of God. I remember telling him several times that I would show him I can still love and accept him, even from afar, even if I didn’t agree with where he was going. I told him I wanted to keep loving and forgiving him no matter how much it hurt, so that if he can feel truly loved by just one person in this world, then he would have to concede that there is a God who is capable of so much more. He would have to believe in my God, the God of love, because without Him loving me first, I wouldn’t be able to move past the hurt to embrace someone who wanted to turn his back on me. I have always been intensely protective of Karlo, which is why it’s hard for me to talk about everything that happened in the past year. Despite everything that he said and did, all I could see was this conflicted boy, aching to be accepted for who he was.
As I browsed through the photos in my hard drive and both our phones, I noticed that he started looking slightly different. I couldn’t pinpoint what the changes were, but they were there. This past year, he looked like he was slowly eroding into a more wounded version of himself and never got back to his usual self. The aching boy was still there, and he showed up once in a while. Those were the only times that I hugged him again, to let him know that I was still there for him.
As I remember my futile attempts to revive the spider plants in our backyard, I thought about my repeated efforts at bringing back the Karlo that I loved. What I strived so hard to give him was merely a taste of the unconditional love that he is experiencing now. None of his deeper wounds will be able to escape that. And now, sometime between the end of the day and the beginning of another, I will go to sleep thinking, “Iba talaga ‘pag si Lord ang nag-alaga.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 — ‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.’
Revelation 21:4 — ” ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
Psalms 127:1 — ‘Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the guards stand watch in vain.’
I am just a secretary 