Saturday, November 10, 2007

Safest place to be

Two fowls at two opposite and distant directions desperately cluck to announce the coming of dawn. The sound magnifies a mournful of spiel, so traumatic and daunting to bear. They consistently return each other’s clucking as if indulging in an operatic discourse that’s plagued with itinerant swings of joy and sadness. In my mind, they seemed like harbingers of death perpetually lulling the cockles of the heart to sleep and die with truth. The feeling’s like this when you refuse to believe that someone you loved is at the other end of the line, trying to breathe her last and rummaging whatever is left, few minutes after the pumping of life; memories of important events in her life which includes a bittersweet understanding of a lifetime of sacrifice. A sacrifice devoted to a generation ahead but so close to her heart.

I waited for few minutes at the station for the bus to come. Booked for the first trip and ended miscalculating the time, earlier by half an hour. Everyone has their jackets and sweaters except me. This is the early days of January and the cold front still sets low reaching this part of the country. I don’t feel the cold. My body is numb all over. Smoke comes out of my mouth occasionally because of heavy and deep breathing. It is still dark. Few people roam the streets. A number of passengers boarded the bus as soon as it arrived. Never passed a glance at their faces like I used to. For quarter of an hour until I boarded myself my eyes are focused at only one direction, to the skies. The bus left the station at about 4:45.

At 4:45, a distraught man was seated at a lonesome bench. His aura effused a certain feeling, so desolate and unknown. The bus maneuvers towards his direction until it finally sweeps the dust in front of him. He was still all the while; his presence pregnant with undefined emotions.

Grief, they say, is abstract until it crosses your path. Unlike any other emotion, grief is seldom felt in our everyday life until someone close to our heart leaves this physical world. When I was on travel to attend the wake of my grandmother, I witnessed the coming of dawn like never before. As the bus runs along lines of trees, paddies and finally the shores along the gulf, the bulwark of the spill of light gradually swallowed up the dark and venomous abyss on the horizon. The beauty of the coming of the new day has never been this overwhelming yet, for a moment, my heart was unable to respond.

For almost a year after her death, I paid a visit to her grave and brought few dozens of white roses. Shed a tear for the wonderful memories and told her that I will never be the same again; like a stolid marble sculpture of a human figure with broken arms. “I suddenly remember you telling me that you will spook me even in broad daylight if I still don’t get married after you pass away. Go on Nay, won’t bother.”


manilenya said...

I am so sorry :(

I can feel your grief in every word you wrote here.

The lingering grief about the loss of your grandmother

I hope that you get through with it soon and let your Nay have her peaceful rest.

mschumey07 said...

I took care of both my grandparents sa mother side. I had a hard time accepting they were gone. There are times when I feel down that they make me feel their presence. I just simply tell them that they should be resting now than watching over me and my family. Grief is temporary but love is endearing.

INKBLOTS said...

I was still very young when my paternal grandfather died. When my paternal grandmother passed away, I did not feel any loss. She was too old (I think 100). Her death is expected. But my memories of Apong Baket is still vivid in my mind. She loves to watch Eat Bulaga because she likes dancing. She chuckles at the antics of TVJ. Whenever she goes to visit us, she always brought pasalubong like cornik and peanuts. And helping her prepare her nga-nga is a special bonding between us. She would show me how not to spill the betel nut on the floor.

We had nothing but good memories of our grandmothers. I am not just so lucky my paternal grandfathers and grandmothers left when I was born.

Mugen said...

I can feel your sadness bro.

FruityOaty said...

I can relate. I lost my best friend a few years ago to a drunk driver. Life, gone... just like that.

The drunk driver ruined so many lives...

pusa said...

i dont know what to say, a year may seem long but to the grieved it is but a second... you still never fail to impress me with your writings, and i hope you write more, btw how's your review?

also i've tagged you again though i know you dont do those stuff but i hope you'll do it this time, its easy =)

Ann said...

Though your post was about grief, the overwhelming feeling I got from it ironically, is peace. *sigh* Death can be as peculiar as life, I think.

That being said, it is always a joy to read your posts.

(formerly of Fighting Gravity)

Lydia said...

So beautifully written, Dex. ♥