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|| Monday, January 15, 2007 ||BREAKDOWN
First of all, i've been receiving mails about people crying when they read my entries. And my sister says she'd sometimes read this blog and just cry. So now am suddenly feeling guilty for making people cry... but this IS my outlet... my way of staying sane.
SIL showed me a picture she took of Pyro's resting place last Thursday night, I think. That plunged me into a depression that would culminate into a crying fest starting Friday night. My husband was surprised to find me sobbing in our bed but I just couldn't stop.
See, I knew I haven't really cried the CRY yet. That time at the hospital, Jun and Angie had the right to crying the CRY... and apart from feeling guilty because I asked God to free Py from all the suffering, and all those people slipping on my vomit, I was detached enough to wonder about the impact of the loss to my family... if it would propel my brother into a half-life of sorrow and inability to move on, if it would traumatize my sister, if it will drive my brother and SIL apart, how to tell our Mom, etc.
I think I cried part of the CRY last weekend... the sort of cry where the world stops and you can't think... and you can't really cry silently.
And I was so grateful that my husband wasn't out on a gimik with his buddies that night... because having him hold me meant so much.
On the way to the cemetery, I started crying again.
And at the cemetery, I cried hard again. Enough so that people living in the cemetery stopped to ask if I was the mother.
Turns out, Pyro retained some sort of fame, even in death. The children living at the cemetery refer to him by name, know of his meeting with Batista, are aware of the bubble machine entombed with him, and vow to watching his grave all the time. What's more, there is a picture of Py on his tombstone (the picture I used for the Thank You cards I made, the one taken on my last birthday, which was laminated then carved onto the marble and covered with glass)... and there can be no visit there where someone wouldn't stop by to comment on how handsome my nephew was.
I just really miss him.
I can't go grocery shopping because I wouldn't need to buy stuff for him anymore.
I don't like eating a lot of stuff because he used to like them too... (so yeah Py, you can be my reason to really go on a diet)
I miss all the hundred little things I used to do that took him into account...
I miss being able to love him, even from afar (because they weren't living with us anymore).
So I cried and cried and cried.
Later that Saturday, we found out that GMA replayed the Wish Ko lang episode featuring him and Batista. We were not informed, but friends who saw the replay texted us.
I believe they added an, "In Memory of Pyro" at the end.
So I cried all the more and started feeling sick... and we were caught in a traffic jam from Las Piñas to Manila because of the Pyro Olympics (something I might not be going to for the coming years, at least).
But the crying fest helped...
And the Wish Ko Lang replay helped... because that was a testament to how much Pyro was loved and blessed. And again, I found that I couldn't really be that sad about our loss, because it meant we gave of ourselves a lot. Something we can never ever regret. Something we'd do again in a heartbeat.
HBO and Star Movies also helped me stop crying. I watched TV and listened to songs till I fell asleep so I wouldn't be alone with my thoughts... and wander again into that dark place where the pain over losing Pyro dwells.
At the cemetery, there was this kid, one of many who enjoyed the food we distributed during Py's burial (because of the tradition that you feed those who mourned for you, and the superstition that you cannot bring any food you served during the wake home) who talked to us...
He matter-of-factly told us about living in the cemetery... and where his family would be going next if they were evicted from the mausoleum of sorts they were inhabiting. He sympathized with us, telling us how sad it is that Py died when he was such a handsome boy. Then he told us about losing his brother, age 8, after that brother got run over by a car. They buried him somewhere in the cemetery.
Again, I felt guilty and blessed at the same time. For there we were, in a way, indulging our grief. How many kids who died will have so many people visiting his grave and crying over him?
While there are these people... who cannot have the luxury of grieving because living is a constant struggle as it is.
Hubby tells me that maybe God won't give us a child of our own till we can accept that the gift of a child is given according to His terms...
I think hubby is bothered because i've kept saying that I don't think I can handle losing a child. That has always been a huge fear, and much more so now that I am struggling with the closest i've come to that kind of pain.
I tell him that I doubt there's a parent who can say he/she can handle losing a child. But I have no doubt that parents have gotten over their loss. And I don't doubt that I will get over the loss... I doubt i'd ever love Pyro less, and it fills me with sadness knowing that someday, my (our)days will be occupied more with thoughts of those who ARE alive... but that knowledge fills me with faith too. I know that things will get better... the wounds will heal even if it will leave us all scarred.
Weird to feel some amount of sadness knowing there will be happier days.
I've also developed a greater respect for my husband's aunt... who had to bury five of her seven children... and her husband. It's a wonder she's still alive. And it's grace that she's continued to find a reason to live... to love.
Py's cousin Jopy has only recently realized that Pyro is gone. Her last conversation with Pyro had Pyro telling her that he cannot play or talk with her anymore... because it was being forbidden by his Papa Jesus.
Jopy would ask her mother why Pyro passed away... and she'd be reminded that Pyro was sick... to which Jopy would counter that she got sick (hospitalized for dengue around Nov) but didn't die.