BLUE SKY

BLUE SKY

..too often we dont realize what we have until it is gone...

..too often we wait too late to say the most simplest words but weighed so much...

..far too many times, it seems we hurt the one we hold dearest to our hearts...

And it was just too late to see what had made us blind.

SEP 19, 2006, TUESDAY, a day like any other exccept for the fact that it was the very day I was to compete for University Philippine History, Culture and the Arts Contest as part of PUP's celebration for its 102nd founding anniversary. I woke up in my typically chaotic room with books, notebooks, test papers, and other reviewer paraphernalia everywhere. As though a morning ritual, I had to explore for my things I needed for school within a jungle that was my room. I looked for my bag, my uniforms, my notebooks and books, and fortunately found them after thorough search. Looking for my ID had always been the hardest part. Got on my nerves and exhausted, I shouted for help, "Ma, did you see my ID?" 

"I have a lot more work to even mind and help you prepare for school. You are already grown up. You should be mature and responsible enough for yourself. What I always tell you? Clean your room. Take the accountability for cleaning it so that when you need something, you could easily find them. What now? See! that are the consequences of not cleaning your room," she nagged as if a memorized speech. Most of the time, Mama sermonized me in my way of keeping (or should I say disorganizing) my room. She had always expressed puzzlement over how I knew which of my clothes had been worn or not and said I was such a slob and that my room was even messier than a guy's.

I could not deny that there was never a moment when my room became spick and span. I was not used to cleaning my room. It was Lola who cleaned it when the time I shared the room with her. I depended on her a lot, the keeping of the room, preparing the clothes I would wear to school and even organizing the books and notes I would bring with me. In a way, I admit, she had spoiled me. When she was used to be there, everything was fine and I have nothing to worry about.

As I was looking for my lost item, I remembered her and missed her presence. She was the one I turned to whenever I needed something or whenever I was in need for help or assistance. At the age of 82, she was fit as a fiddle. She could still perform different household chores. However, on June 2006, she was diagnosed of cancer of the lungs. From them on, her body and health slowly deteriorate.

My uncle offered to lend a hand and transferred her to his care. He suggested to take Lola at their home, wherein he could keep an eye on her. Apart from the reason that our house is beside a heavy smoke belching factory, it is also near a busy road -- a very grave threat to Lola's illness. In addition, my mother could not handle the burden of all the expenses for her medications and weekly check-ups. We have only a small carinderia for our family to make ends meet aside from my father's meager income as a factory worker.

"Renalie, what are you doing? You will be late. It is already 7:15," echoed by my mother from outside my room. My thoughts and reminiscence of Lola was immediately startled by those yells, and my memory of Lola temporarily vanished. I looked at the sky above, and saw its beautiful bluish color. I had hoped that it promised of a good experience awaiting me at that contest.

The Quiz Bee was not a child's play as I had expected it to be. Though I had not concluded that event with flying colors, I did not feel any condemnation about losing at all. I had conditioned myself that winning would be really out of the question. However, I felt disappointed over some of my classmates whom I had failed in their hopes.

I went back home, preparing myself and my sad story to share with Mama. Wearing a long face, I approached her to tell the sad news. Even before I had opened my mouth and spelled the words, she had conveyed a worse and even sadder news. Without beating about the bush, she said "Your Lola died."

I looked at the sky which by that moment slowly turned to black, announcing the repose of the day to give way for the coming of the night.

It all ended and began... Lola died. I still had such a time saying that, thinking that, feeling that. As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew the reality of all that was taking place around me. I did not want to accept that the angel of death once again traveled from nowhereness and took someone I loved. I thought that by refusing to accept it, I would make it go away. Of course it would not! And the reality hit me like a Tsunami wave. I felt like I had stepped off the earth and onto a planet of unreality. I ceased to function as I used to and a numbness crept over me.

My grandmother died. Her pain ended and ours had just begun.With her death, strangers pulled together once more to form a family. Different stories of kindness and memories of my Lola were shared during the wake. Each one relived their lives with her distinct memories. They shared her memories with each other and to other relatives who would be hearing the stories for the first or the fifth of even the fiftieth time. And with the telling of each embellished tale, the gathering of strangers slowly dissolved into a family unit.

It seemed that her death united a once scattered family even just for a five-nights span of her wake.

Goodbye, I'm sorry... I never thought that the day when it was time to bring her to her final destination would be the hardest part of it all. The sky above was very clear and exceptionally blue before we set forth to the cemetery. As the funeral car and ours reached the place, tiny droplets of rain started to shower the land and plants alike. It was just a sudden and short burst as if showing the heavens were grieving with us. Everyone was shedding tears. Some were crying loudly and others did it in silence.

"Why did you leave us?" someone had cried out loud. A platitudinous phrase said by an anguished soul in a hysterical outburst, yet it conveyed a deeper message.

That cliche-ish expression was also what I had wanted to communicate to her now lifeless body. With the bitterest tears that I had ever shed, I asked her in silence that same question in my mind. As the pastor's eulogy resonated over the cries and weeps of everyone, I said my goodbye to Lola. "Goodbye to you Lola," I said in the way no one could hear. "I'm very sorry." Hoping with these few simple words, the rues I felt and brought by her sudden death would be cleansed. I regretted all the words I had both uttered and had left unsaid. If only I could turn back the hands of clock, I would never waste the time and would not commit the same mistakes and misdeeds when I had the opportunity.

As we left the cemetery I could imagined her soul ascend to heavens. There was a lot of activity going on in  there. God was smiling more than usual and was eagerly waiting for her very special soul.

I wish I could have told her... One year and six months has passed, yet here I am still holding the bottled rues brought by her demise. The small space inside the four walls of my bedroom is the mute witness of how mean I have acted toward Lola. Making a clean breast of the entire silliest misdemeanor I had done to my grandmother would consume a ton of ink and a thousand pieces of paper. 

Sharing a small bedroom with Lola, for almost half of my lifetime, had deprived of privacy. I felt deprived of solitude and confidentiality for my things and for myself. She had meddled in almost all of my things that caused the misunderstandings and petty quarrels between us. She had got too occupied  with me that I felt like I wanted to get away from it and be freed. I wanted to draw a line somewhere between us. Not single day that had passed that I had wished that I could have the room all by myself. That thinking had blinded me for so long of the kindness Lola had showed me. I had never appreciated how she had made my life comfortable; of how I should be thankful that I had a grandmother like her. She had loved me unconditionally despite the cold treatment I displayed to her.

At the time my lola suffered the pains of her illness, a surge of conscience knocked to my heart. It has slowly melted all the bitterness and hostility I had felt for her. Being conceited and levelheaded, I did not let it show. It was so hard for me to get down on my knees and to throw in the sponge over the dispute I alone have created between us. Up to the last thread of her breath, I had not conceded and asked for her forgiveness for all of the things that I have done. That up to this very moment, I had wished that I could tell her how much sorry I was for all of the things and how much I really loved her.

Never leave behind regret... We never miss the water till the well runs dry. Too often we don't realize what we have until it is gone.Too often we wit too late to say the simplest words but weighed so much  like "I love you," "Thank you," and "I'm sorry, I was wrong." Far too many times, it seems we hurt the ones we hold dearest to our hearts and we allow foolish things to tear our lives apart. And after all was said and done, we will find that it was too late for us to see what had made us blind.

Time. Words. Opportunity. Three things in life when gone never come back. Take time to say the word before your opportunity is through. Be sure that you let people know how much they are appreciated. Let's tell our families and friends and loved ones how much we love them. Do not delay anything adding laughter and joy to their lives.Every day, hour, or minute is special and we don't know if it will be our last. Never leave behind regrets.

Once again, I gazed up to the sky above. It was as beautiful as it was ever be. It was blue -- color of calmness not affected with the chaos below it. A blue sky waiting tomorrow. And behind that was a paradise of heaven where children of God will be reunited someday and could have that chance -- a chance to tell each other the words left unsaid.

~ End ~