randomly cluttered

Photo by Kevin Jackson on Unsplash I miss my mother every day. She died on February 25, 2017. And ever since, I have been navigating life with the weight of her loss. Some days are easier than most. But recently, I discovered the weight getting heavier around her death anniversary and mother’s day. On sobering breakdowns and ironic epiphanies Just recently, days before mother’s day, I had a proper emotional breakdown. Time and again, I have braced for these waves. And as with time, it became bearable. But not this one, I’m afraid. Trying my hardest to ride the waves of grief, I got sucked in the quicksand of my heart. After drying my tears and grounding my thoughts, an ironic epiphany befallen upon me. The epiphany explained When I was in elementary, I had always prided myself with my academic achievements. I can count with my fingers the number of times I failed to be in the honor roll. I was never pressured by my mother to be the best, I just knew back then how excelling in school w...

Photo by Peter Thomas on Unsplash Oh, the nostalgia! “One day when I get to write my book, I’ll never forget to include your names on it.” Read the caption on an Facebook post from a friend. Her post was a picture of us with another friend in BGC. It was one of those days when a specific memory found me unawares. I’d be listening to an old song and out of nowhere a sliver of memory would trickle into my mind, and before I knew it, I’m already awash with a deluge of the past. Most of the time it would be a fun recollection, and when it’s all dried up, sadness would creep in. The house metaphor My life would have been empty without a number of people who have barged in, banged on its doors, and rang the doorbell. Some I let in happily; Some I locked out. For those I had welcomed, two possibilities awaited: (1) They would start hating the interiors but would end up beguiled by how cozy such a space becomes. (2) They would enter the premise awed and slack-jawed until they’d notice the cra...

The sun waved hi The morning you bid goodbye; Felt like nothing and everything Changed at the same time. As the hospital woke up, You had fallen asleep. As they wheeled you out the door, I counted all the promises I failed to keep. Relatives were notified. Not a tear in my eye. Parched heart beating slow, Feeling restless but I got nowhere to go. Did you lie next to your body? Did you watch me as I packed? Did you visit your favorite places? Did you think of going back? Did you hear my I love yous? Did you notice the weather that day? Did you soak in the sun, had your fun, Before you finally went on your way? Documents were processed. Memories were accessed. Your last dress was bought, Your last moments rethought. While the country commemorated the bravery Of those who marched to reclaim our democracy, A silent song rose within me — A remembrance of what was and what is meant to be. For nothing is bolder than to love courageously In the face of certain uncertainty. And from that moment...

Episode 1 Fleabag summarizes her life and the first episode quite eloquently: screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com Episode 2 After getting back with her ex-boyfriend, Fleabag spoils his dinner surprise and they end up breaking-up for real. screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com Episode 3 The first sequence of the episode sees Fleabag running towards the camera. She stops, takes a deep breath before blurting out "jogging."  screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com Episode 4 Fleabag bares her soul to an old acquaintance she meets during a female-only silent retreat. screenshot courtesy of BBC Studios twobrotherspictures.com scree...

Photo by Budi Firdaus on Unsplash Aside from schools, hospitals are believed to be hotspots for ghosts and other paranormal entities. Most schools in the Philippines used to be cemeteries. Hospitals, on the other hand, are perfect dwelling places for spirits in limbo. Those who passed but haven’t passed on are said to wander through wards and halls still looking for the light to guide them to the next realm. --- To add novelty to my growing hospital boredom, I embarked on a ghost hunting mission. One night when my mother was already asleep, I roamed through the bowels of the old building. I made it a point to walk through the empty halls minutes before the clock struck 12 MN.  On my first visit to PGH, I almost got lost. There were many passages and buildings, not to mention the daily volume of people. To process a blood donation request, you must go through different departments, which were far from one another. On my first night, I ran from one building to another, dashing past ...

Photo by Jose Losada on Unsplash Wake up at 4, head straight out of the door. Don't want to die poor, I'd rather struggle and suffer more. Lifting weights at the gym, taking all my reps in. When I'm done with the treadmill, I want my legs to melt and cave in. Back at home, I'll make sure the water is freezing, so it can numb the pain of my corporate toiling. Ate my breakfast, nourished and full, now I am brimming. Took down notes, too early for work, ready for the draining. Galvanized and inspired for another day of running. The Long Walk who? This one's more entertaining. Work-life balance? That's a sham. Capitalism? We're all big fans! Facebook, LinkedIn What's the difference? Twitter, IG or is it just me? Everyone's busy building their legacy. Hustle culture? I'll stop when I'm older. Running empty? Your career, babe, is not a personality. Passion is overrated. Working hard and smart sounds the same. Life begins after retirement. Like lov...

  Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash "You don't forget your first time." For as long I could, I tried everything to avoid going to PGH. Hospitals freak me out—even to this day. There is something about the place that scares me. If you think about it, hospitals are oxymoronic: it’s teeming with life and reeking of death at the same time. It was only a matter of time. Eventually, I found myself waiting outside PGH’s main entrance, one Saturday morning in 2013. --- Not long enough, my mother was admitted again to PGH. She went initially for her monthly check-up but learned that her blood count was alarmingly low. Her doctor instructed her to stay and get admitted as soon as possible. Luckily a bed was available as a patient got discharged earlier that day. When I learned of this, I mentally prepared myself to go to PGH after my shift from UP TechnoHub. I asked my step-father how to get there. After my graveyard shift, I found myself seated outside the PGH main entran...

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash When I'm feeling down or spiraling out, I remember the things I've forgotten about. So I came up with a list to remind myself why I exist, why I should resist, and why I must persist. It's nothing new, just a paragraph or two, to ground me back to reality when everything is hazy. What makes me happy is not the excess of money. But let's be honest, without it the list would be half-empty. A good book A cup of hot coffee A long walk A lighthearted movie A smooth run A new song from your favorite artist The view of the sun as it trails along the Earth's axis Deep conversations Shallow jokes A heavy downpour on a summer's day Long drives with your person to nowhere or somewhere far away A happy memory to reminisce A lovely poem such as this Your cat curling around your feet Your dog enjoying a piece of treat Your mother's smile makes everything worthwhile. Your lover's touch makes life easier enough. Fresh sheets Dry s...

Photo by Ante Samarzija on Unsplash My mother, being the friendly person that she was, had made a handful of friends while she was confined in PGH. Amidst the stench of death across the ward, a sweet scent of humanity persisted. After all, we are all social beings, despite our physical afflictions. I’ve had made an acquaintance or two during that time. One day while I was preparing to leave for work, a voice called from behind me. I turned and saw a gaunt woman in her 30s, seated on the bed next to us, nibbling on a pack of wafers. “Mama mo?” she asked, looking at my mother. “Opo,” I answered politely. “Gaano na kayo katagal dito?” “Mahigit na pong dalawang buwan.” “Anong sakit ng mama mo?” Back then this was difficult for me to answer. We had been in the hospital for months on end, but still there was no clear diagnosis for my mother’s condition. “Hindi pa po namin alam eh. Ina-alam pa po ng mga doctors niya.” She went silent for a moment until I asked her the same ...

Photo by Simon Hurry on Unsplash When I came back from my book haul at Booksale, not much had changed—my mother was still lying on a metal bed along the corridor outside the ER. This would continue until the next day.  That night, the NGT was removed. Around 11 AM the next day, I had my lunch—a bowl of greasy nilagang baboy and two cups of rice. When I returned, my step-father told us that he wanted to go home to clean up. Instantly, my mother’s face contorted. “Mubalik ko dayon, hon. Maligo lang ko ug magda ug imong gamit,” he reassured her. Unable to speak as her throat was still tender, my mother groaned in consternation. I’d react the same way too if it were me. Dread crept up as my step-father promised he'll return right a way.  It took a while before my mother smoothened her face. She was too weak to argue, too weak to protest. A few moments later, my step-father was gone. He would return days after. I sat next to my mother for what felt like an eternity, f...