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| It's soft and faded, from the wear and tear you wrought on it? I do not know.
I used to keep it neatly folded away, so as to keep the scent of your
cologne from going away. Until one day, I hugged it close and realized
that it now bore the smell of my freshly laundered clothes, and not you.
It fit you comfortably that day you wore it. You, and your tousled
hair, eyes hidden behind your aviator shades and that confident swagger
that I find amusing in men.
It hangs loosely on me, just slightly shorter than one of my skimpy dresses, and the sleeves falling a little above my elbows.
We talked that day, you with your bottle of beer and my sour green mango that you had gallantly peeled and sliced for me.
Funny how hard it is to let go of sweet memories. Of times that have
long gone by, and that are no longer relevant. Those memories that had
eventually turned sour. Letting my feelings evolve, only to let go out
of fear, and experience the inevitable fall.
But I wouldn't trade memories of you, the fond memories, and of hurting you and being hurt by you.
Where was it written? Of the gate keeper of an island asking the
traveler if she wanted to forget, forget everything including memories
that pained her. But this meant being unable to recall the happy
moments as well. Though she would be relieved of the pain, entering the
island carefree and unbidden, she would also be unable to remember
moments of joy, or recall occasions with those she loved.
Your old shirt, wrinkled after I hastily folded it along with my
laundry. Smelling of fabric softener, I pick it up and slip it on,
then head off to bed. The memories linger, but just like your scent,
it will soon be lost to the past. | | |
| Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.
~Seneca
| | |
| I wanted to do a 22 things I've learned for my birthday, but since I
haven't gotten around to doing that, I'm doing a "22 Questions I want
you to answer"
Simply put, answer my 22 Questions and I will treasure it as your [belated] birthday gift to me. :D
1. Why do you miss me? (You can't say you don't miss me)
2. What is your favourite memory of me?
3. One regret you have when it comes to me?
4. What do you dislike about me?
5. One wish you have for me?
6. What is the one thing you think I'd never do?
7. A question you'd want me to answer.
(These questions refer to yourself, and not Adele)
8. What is your worst habit?
9. What would you want to change about yourself?
10. What do you think people remember most about you, or associate you with?
11.
[If you don't like what people remember most about you, or associate
you with]: What do you want people to remember you by, or associate you
with?
12. If you could change a part of your past, what would this be?
13. What are your biggest fears?
14. Aside from your family, who else has greatly influenced your life?
15. How has this person(s) influenced your life?
16. What drives you to do what it is you are doing in life?
17. How did you envision yourself 5 years ago?
18. How do you envision yourself 5 years from now?
19. What is one secret you have kept from me? If you don't want to tell me, why have you been hiding this from me?
20. What would you want in return for never having me in your life again? (something you don't have, but would want)
21. What is something [you have] that you would sacrifice in exchange for keeping me in your life?
and just in case you didn't feel like answering any of my questions, at least answer this:
22. Why did you answer all my questions? If you didn't, why didn't you? | | |
| I never told you about my Mama Lola - my Mom's Mom. She is in her early
90s, and though she suffers from congestive heart failure, high blood
pressure and breathing problems, she still refuses to leave the
apartment she moved into after my grandfather died.
She is the
kind of woman who will never relinquish her independence no matter
what, which is why she still lives on her own. Though she has a maid to
keep her company, she has been known to fire them if they aren't to her
liking. She still questions her doctors when they prescribed her new
medication or change the dosage of the existing ones and will reject
anything you buy her if it's not according to her liking. For instance,
if you are sent out to buy peanut butter, it HAS to be Kraft, low fat
peanut butter spread - the one with the green label otherwise she won't
touch it.
She has also been known to call up relatives living
nearby and expect them to show up within 30 minutes of her calling so
that she could go to the mall, or have them escort her to the plaza
near her apartment so she could go to the bank, and grab a few items
from the drugstore and grocery. It's actually an excuse for her to take
a walk outside so we all know to let her take her time. And no, don't
you dare offer to drop her off in front of the stores, she will
immediately snap at you and say "LALAKAD AKO!" It was during one of
these outings that she mentioned to me that my Uncle had offered to get
her one of those motorized scooters old people like to use to get
around. I told her that it wouldn't be so bad, since she did need a
walker (that doubled as her throne whenever she had to sit and wait) to
get around. She scoffed at me and said, "I wouldn't be able to walk!"
When
the bank teller initially refused to allow her to withdraw money from
her account due to lack of proper identification, she started
scolding the poor girl, asking her if the manager was in and commenting
out loud that she must be new (insinuating that everyone knows who she
is, and that she doesn't need an ID). She did get away with withdrawing
her money sans ID, and the teller would definitely have remembered my
Lola after that incident.
If you want to know the power my Lola
wields over my Mom and her family, let me tell you about how I used to
be able to scare my mom into letting me have my way by issuing the
trump card, "I'm telling Lola!" Even though my family barely gets to
see her, we knew that she loved all of us dearly and that we could
always go running to her for comfort. While growing up I would send her
letters and would complain to her about how my mom wouldn't buy me new
books (I was a voracious reader so my mom actually got tired of buying
me books) or that I wasn't being given my Canadian Dollars. Whenever my
mom spotted me writing down another one of my novel length letters to
Lola, she would ask me if I was writing something nice about her, else
she would get a long distance call from Lola scolding her for not
treating me nicely. Yes, I am one of Lola's favourite apos.
Lola
was a stranger to me for most of my early years. I remember having this
old lady staying in our guest room, ready to give me hugs and candies whenever
I would have a fight with my brothers and would be left crying. I was 4
years old when my mom and I took a trip to Canada and it was my first
recollection of meeting her side of the family. My mom had conferences
to attend to, and I remember waking up one morning to find my mom gone
and Mama Lola out in her living room having breakfast. I wanted to cry,
but was too shy to do so in front of my Lola who I barely knew. But she
was warm and caring, and I got over my initial fear of being without
mom. My Lola couldn't resist parading me around to her friends and I
earned quite a few dollars singing and dancing for them. (Hey, don't
tell me your elders didn't make you sing and dance for their friends
when you were younger!)
Mama Lola used to scold me whenever I'd
fidget around while seated, and would hit my legs if I moved around too
much. I had to be ladylike at all times, so this meant sitting upright
and with my legs next to each other and not splayed out in front of me.
Coming from a woman who still has her nails regularly painted and hair
well kept, it does not seem out of place.
I remember visiting
her in the hospital, catching her in the act of powdering her face (we
got shooed out as her nurse was freshening her up). Once done, we were
admitted into her room and found her regally seated by the window as
she did not want to be caught lying miserably in bed. I tried to take a
picture of us during that visit but she immediately moved out of the
way and said that she didn't look good. She only relented when I told
her that I wouldn't show the picture to anyone, and that it was only
for me.
For a woman her age, she is quite feisty and full of
life. Before her heart started to weaken she would travel to California
every winter only returning once it was warmer back in Canada. She went
to Jerusalem with her gal pals (all Seniors!) and when none of her
friends would join her in a tour of New York, she went on her own and
made a few friends during the trip. My Lola loved to go to the mall,
shopping at Square One and would often call on her favourite grandson
to drive her there. He did grow tired of being at Lola's beck and call,
but no one is allowed to say no to her requests.
She is a woman
I admire, not just for her strength, but also for her ability to be a
leader at such an old age. She is in charge of the Grandmother's
fellowship at her church, a group of elderly women who would meet
together to pray and would pool their money to send to poor Filipino pastors
back home. My Tita loves telling the story of how my Lola was in the
ICU due to her heart failure and was going through her list of
grandchildren, as all grandparents do when they feel that their time is
coming. In the midst of speculating on when my male cousin would get
married, she suddenly said that there was still something that she had
forgotten to do. My Tita immediately asked her what it was:
"Nakalimutan ko mag collect ng pera para sa birthday ni -----". Yes,
Lola is always on top of everything.
She weathered that health
scare, as she did a few more after that. Now she's back in the hospital
and it seems like we might have to prepare for the inevitable. Lola's a
fighter, and she won't let go that easily. My mom has yet to see her,
and we're hoping that this will be just like the other times, that Lola
will get well, her heart will grow stronger, and that she'll live for a
few more years.
I'm not ready to see her go even I know that
she's lived a full life. She's seen all her children earn their
degrees, with her three daughters going as far as earning their
Doctorate degree. She's lived to have all but the youngest of her
grandchildren graduate from college, and soon her eldest
great-grandchild will be entering college. All her grandchildren have
jobs (though I'm the straggler in the group as I have yet to start),
and she's seen all but her 2 newest great-grandchildren. I know she
won't live forever, but I still want her to be there when I start grad
school, or have my brother finish his bachelor's degree, or when I get
married.
She's Mama Lola, she puts the grand in grandmother,
she's the reason why the whole clan gathers together every year - to
celebrate her birthday. I love her dearly, and though I never really
got to spend that much time with her while growing up, it feels good to
know that I have someone who loves me unconditionally and will be ready
to welcome me back with a warm hug and a serving of the best adobo in
the world.
Mommy, Aunty Juling, Mama Lola, Papa Lola, Lola
Juling, Big Lola, regardless of what we may call her, to us, she is a
woman who loves unconditionally, gives generously, and for whom without
we would never be. | | |
| After my first boyfriend and I broke up, we barely spoke to each
other. Even if the very day after we broke up we ended up having to be
in the same vicinity due to swim training. I can still remember trying
to rush away from the pool area while his friend stalled me in hopes of
getting us to talk. Now I'm on friendly terms with him, as I am with
my other exboyfriends, but with him, there will always be this
awkwardness I can't shake.
He was my first boyfriend, and sadly, for all the wrong
reasons. I was in my rebellious stage and having a boyfriend was one
of the things my parents forbade. I was also trying extricate myself
from a messy situation involving my guy bestfriend-turned-almost-boyfriend
and also wanted to ward off unwanted attention from suitors. Back
then, having a boyfriend seemed like the perfect way to evoke my
parents anger while saving me from having to explain in greater detail
why I just wanted to be friends with guys who wanted to be more than
friends.
That relationship went by in a blur and I don't think I ever
really had a meaningful conversation with my swimmer boyfriend. We
were student athletes and so our conversations revolved around
competitions and how crazy our coach was, but nothing that enabled us
to really know more about each other. I honestly think the friendships
I gained from that relationship was the only thing that made it
worthwhile. No, hardly bitter, just wondering how he ended up being my
boyfriend.
One of the drawbacks of that relationship was that it
reinforced my idea that men and their words cannot be trusted. That
relationship was a result of my trying to ward off other guys, guys who
would promise me the sun, moon, and stars only to turn down my offers
of friendship in exchange for a warmer response from another girl they
happened to like.
And then of course, there's the more serious issue of having
my former guy bestfriend telling me he loved me, that he would wait for
me and all that crap only for me to find out that the entire time he
was being sweet and attentive to me, he had a girlfriend. Yes, this
guy who asked me on so many occasions to be his girlfriend already had
a girlfriend to begin with. Things between us had already gotten very
complicated, what with our hiding our unofficial relationship, our age
difference (he was a good 5 years older than me) and my coming from a
higher socio-economic status. Money doesn't matter to me, unless the
guy constantly expects me to pay for everything, as was the case here.
And so when my first boyfriend started courting me, I gave in. He was
from a wealthy family, I had a few friends who knew him and they all
said he was a good guy and, we both were swimmers. I didn't really
love him but it felt good to be in a relationship at that time, so even
if I had my reservations I still went ahead and said yes when he asked
me to be his girlfriend.
Things got messy towards the end of our relationship. I was
starting to resent his constantly texting other girls, as well as his
lack of concern for my health. I had undergone a tonsillectomy a few
weeks before classes started and he didn't bother to see me in the
hospital in spite of me asking him to do so. We eventually broke up,
through text message, because he didn't have the balls to meet with me
so we could break up in person. I later found out from a friend that
he had been pursuing this other girl at the time when I was in the
hospital. I know who she is, and though she spurned his advances, I
still cannot stand her.
What drives me to hate exboyfriends with a vengeance would be
what he did after we broke up. I would get text messages from him at
odd hours of the night, asking me what I was up to, and occasionally
I'd get a sweet text or quote from him. He'd tell me he missed me or
was thinking of me, but after a few weeks of this he'd stopped texting
and I'd find out that he was now dating someone new. This became a
cycle of him texting me when he wasn't dating anyone in particular,
then totally ignoring me when he had a new girl to occupy him. If I
were back home he'd probably still be doing this to me.
Then there's the bestfriend-turned-almost-boyfriend.
We were both 2nd year students, I in high school, he in college. We
were in our church's youth group and we also attended the same school.
We would see each other in our weekly church group meetings, and from
this we grew closer. I liked him, but thought he only saw me as a
little sister so I decided to keep things to myself and see him as one
of my close friends, nothing more, nothing less. I enjoyed his humor
as well as friendly advices. He became a close confidant, and I also
grew close to his sister and would hang out with them every week. It
was after a year of this that he admitted to me that he liked me. We
all know what that leads to.
He did ask me to be his girlfriend on several occasions, but I
had to say no each time as I didn't want to go against my parents
wishes. So we ended up having an unofficial relationship. We never
really dated, but he did call me every night, and we did see each other
quite often. He was also an athlete and so I would attend his
tournaments, and he would attend my meets. On top of our church
meetings we also had the Christian organization we were both a part of
and would had a lot of opportunities to spend time with each other. I
was free to see other guys, but we had this understanding that we were
not to seriously date anyone else.
It was after I had a conversation with his sister that I found
out about his girlfriend. It wouldn't have been such a big deal if he
hadn't asked me to be his girlfriend, or constantly hearing his many I
love you's, or the jealous confrontations whenever he'd see me with
another guy. There were many other factors, but this was the straw
that broke the camel's back and so I asked him to stop communicating
with me. I was angry at him for a long time, hating him for what he
had done to me and I blocked him out of my life to the point of
forgetting about him and our past.
When D and I got together he had to constantly affirm that he
loved me and that he had no other girls in his life. He knew I had a
jealous streak and did everything to gain my trust, a tough feat given
the psychological defenses I had put up. I was still wary but I saw
how D was serious about me and was offended when I insinuated that he
saw our relationship as one that was temporary. We were together for
almost 3 years before I broke up with him. He had been my close friend
before we got together so it was easier to stay as friends. Not that I
had any choice given our being thesis partners, but that's another
story.
Almost immediately after breaking up with him I got into
another relationship. This time with a guy who I had just met, but
felt so comfortable being with. I feared that it might end up like my
first relationship - I hadn't really gotten to know the guy before
getting into a relationship with him. We met while I was home for the
school break and he was on vacation from the US. He struck me as being
obnoxious but I loved his ability to speak his mind and his ideas
intrigued me. I didn't think I'd see him again, after all he was
leaving to go back to the US while I had to get back to classes. By
chance he ended up being in the same city where I was studying in and I
ended up inviting him and some friends we both knew to my boyfriend's
birthday celebration. I wasn't happy with my relationship, and had
been trying to get out of it for a long time but couldn't. Meeting K
might have finally given me to courage and resolve to save myself from
a relationship that was consuming my happiness and a little after that
I broke up with D.
My relationship with K was quite unlike my previous ones. I
spent more time away from him that actually being with him. I flew
home to see him and got to meet his family, but never got to introduce
him to mine. I had to give up my idea of having a boyfriend who was
willing to drop everything for me. However he was probably the only
guy who I could actually have a meaningful conversation with. Whereas
before I had my boyfriend wrapped around my fingers (and obeying my
every command), I had to be more understanding and undemanding.
That
relationship came at a very trying time for me, not just because it was
a long distance relationship - something I was not used to, but also
because I was still getting past my last relationship with D and his
alternating between a psycho ex and an understand friend. My friends
were no help as they were upset at my ending my relationship with D
and who
couldn't understand that I was happier in this new relationship in
spite of being oceans away from my boyfriend. There too were my academic
and recurring health problems. I managed to get past it all, but
without that relationship ending.
It was a few months after my last relationship ended that the
memory of my almost-boyfriend was brought back. I honestly had managed
to cover up all the hurts and anger I felt as well as the circumstances
behind them. I knew had a trust issue with men, but I couldn't recall
why or how to resolve it.
I was talking with D at that time, and we were having another
one of our confrontations about my breaking up with him, I then
recalled that the circumstances surrounding our break up was very
similar to the reasons why I cut off my almost-boyfriend from my life.
Though it was a relief to finally get it out, it was also very
upsetting for me to have to bring to mind why I was so angry at J. D
and J may have loved me, but underneath it all I felt like they
couldn't give me the respect I deserve, and I unconsciously let them
get away with it.
With only a few weeks left in the Philippines, I tried to
reach out to J so I could tell him about how I felt towards him. We
did get to speak briefly but I never managed to tell him how I felt.
I've forgiven him since then and I don't harbor any ill feelings
against him.
Has my perception about men changed since then? Maybe, maybe
not. Time will tell. I'm in no rush to find out but neither am I
afraid to do so.
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