Monday, December 10, 2007
40 days...
She was in and out of the hospital for at least three times this year. When my sister told me that my mother was in the ER and was unconscious, I knew that I had to go home.
It was November 1st, most flights were booked but I managed to find a budget airline the would depart on the same day. By 130PM, I was in the office, sending out instructions on what needs to be done in the next few days that I will be out. By this time, I could no longer contact anyone at home.
At around 230PM, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. My first instinct was to get a glass of water. Then I prayed: "Lord, I wanted to much to be home right now. But if You would like to take her now, it's ok. Whether she makes it or not, I will still love You."
About 15 minutes later, my sister texted me: "She's gone." She called a few minutes later to talk about funeral plans. I talked to my father too.
After the call, I walked to the restroom, locked myself in one of the cubicles and wept. And I prayed, "Lord, give me the grace to get through this. Give me a faith strong enough to carry my family through."
I talked to my wife over the phone. She offered to take me to the airport, I declined.
By 315PM, I was ready to leave for the airport. I sent out a few more messages to close friends and went out to call a taxi.
The ride was very quick. I was at the airport in 15 minutes. By 4PM, I was already at the waiting lounge. My flight was around 530PM. I had a sandwich because snacks won't be served on a budget flight.
All throughout this time, God has been very gracious in setting divine appointments. People were extra kind and considerate. It was as if I was wearing a "Please be nice to me, I just lost my mother." sign on my head.
On the plane, I sat right next to a mother and her little son. Ouch!
When I arrived, I was disoriented. Where is the exit? Again, God sent an angel, "Over here sir. Taxis are just over there. Welcome to Davao." The taxi ride was hilarious. The taxi driver was singing his heart out. Clueless guy. I just told him to bring me to a funeral parlor and he was singing a novelty song.
I arrived at the funeral parlor and went around looking for my family. I was told by the receptionist that my mother was in the morgue and the family members were out. So I went to the nearest bench and just sat. I started calling and texting my sister and my father. No response. Dead batteries, I guess.
About an hour later, my brother came in, tipsy because of beer. I called him and we shook hands. He told me that my niece and brother-in-law went shopping for burial clothes and my father and sister were just a few benches from me!
A few minutes later, my niece and brother-in-law arrived. We went to the morgue with the clothes.
My mother's lifeless body was on the table. The mortician did a wonderful job. She looked just like she did before she got sick. And in my heart God spoke: "If a man can restore as well as this, can you imagine the restoration I have for you?"
About an hour later, we took her home. It was around 930PM when we arrived home.
In the next few days, God was at work. There were so many things that needed attention: funeral details, food for the guests, calls to relatives, meals to cook for the family, going to market, feeding the dogs, etc. I also had diarrhea at the time.
It was a good thing that my cousin came in on the fifth day. Actually, she's more like an adopted sister. She took care of the kitchen chores and did house cleaning. On the sixth day, around 15 relatives arrived.
It was fun looking at my mother's siblings. She was the oldest sister and they had stories to tell about her.
On the eve of the funeral, my father asked me to do the speech. I wasn't able to sleep. I was so used to working using computers that to write a speech on paper is just so difficult.
On the day of the funeral, the whole family gathered and sang Still. After the song, we packed up and started leaving for the cemetery.
The funeral rites was short. I was asked to deliver a short talk and I did. I wasn't able to prepare a speech so I spoke from the heart.
When it was time to lower the coffin, I stood beside my father. My wife, my nephew's wife and my cousin's wife had distributed roses.
What happened next would remain etched in my memory: My father placed his hand on my mother's coffin and wept. 48 years, that's how long they were married. And we wept with him.
The many days that followed were just a blur. I do know if I am through with grieving. I only know that things are different now.
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