It’s always pleasing to hear of your solitary walks bcz the activity is gratifying for me too. My delayed comment was intentional as others may find it tragic — nothing inspiring. My struggle stems from another sudden devastating loss two months ago whereupon acceptance of the inevitable is the only way to be able to go on. Although I have this need to be spiritual, you might know what it feels like for people who don’t believe in life after death. My whole existence has personally taught me there’s no pain equal to the ultimate separation from those who raised you or you grew up with. I went ahead with my pre-planned trip one month after and surely received flak from kinsfolk behind my back — but they are completely clueless as to the amount of sorrow I’ve been carrying all along. Grief sometimes gets set aside for one’s own survival; the heartache, however, lingers on.
My favorite destination: Europe. My flight is tonight. I’ll be staying within that continent for two weeks. I’m spending Christmas and New Year there, too.
It’s my very first solo journey. Completely on my own. Prepared for several months for this. Am I petrified? You bet I am. They keep on saying it’s the dead of winter now in that part of the globe. and I easily feel cold. So again, am I petrified? The correct answer should be: will it help if I am?
I hope to see falling snow. It’s my dream. I’m not sure I’ll get the chance to witness such a spectacular view. I hope I will.
Whenever I travel abroad I make this tiny assumption I may not be able to come back. One thing I learned about life: You never know what’s gonna happen next. Anyway, I wrote this post a testament as well to the love of my life, my father and all the pets I’ve had. I’m gonna miss my cat, Snowy, who I have to leave behind for a while until I come back. My brother and his partner will look after him.
I’ll be posting photos as soon as I can. and I will add more to this post later as I am in a hurry; I’m on my way to the airport. Wish me a very happy and safe trip.
The norwegians. I’ve seen other citizens from half a dozen places on this earth yet the unadorned physical good looks of the Norway inhabitants I consider exceptional. It amazed me to see young women working as security guards and waitresses who looked like movie stars. Mere clerks at airport booths are hunks with flawless, a bit reddish complexion and perfect facial features that literally took my breath away.
The thing is, they aren’t polite or kind. Most of them are rude. I guess their looks and the affluence of their nation made them that way.
Still, if I have to choose which country I would like to live in forever, Norway it is — if only for the best-looking natives in that magnificent land.
My stats show somebody from the Philippines keeps on dropping by my blog regularly. I hope it isn’t any of my former colleagues at my last job because it’s not fair that they continue to be engrossed as to what’s going on in my daily existence while I don’t give an ounce of attention over any of them. Sure a few are still somewhat connected to me on FB although I’d unfollowed them all because their affairs just don’t interest me.
I don’t mind if I have a follower who’s a complete stranger. Whatever I write here won’t be much of an issue to him or her.
What if that consistent visitor happens to be my son? Oh well…. He ‘kinda told me off in one of his recent text messages about my hidden resentment towards him. When I read his note, my mind was like “wtf, you expect me to be happy and proud of your unconscionable demeanor towards your mother for the past three years?” Of course I know he’s been reading my blog — he was the one who set it up in the first place. He’s probably checking periodically if I’m still alive. He still has a hard time believing I’ve lasted this long on my own.
I visited and talked to him during the height of the dreadful crisis last month. Because I wanted him to at least do the right thing and pay his last respects to someone who had loved him dearly. Mind you, the brat was once more so full of himself to think about other people other than his ego and imagined hurt pride. I can’t believe I raised that huge of a monster.
During our text messaging and especially in our last conversation face to face I kept telling him I love him. It’s true — he’s my child. The 22 years we’d been together 24/7 cannot be erased; even though it’s become clear he doesn’t love me. The boy who grew up with me — despite losing him eventually — still remains in my heart.
He’d definitely condemn me again if he reads this post. I say, “Dear child, it only proves you are not a De Leon — which I am and truly proud of. You are a Mamaradlo; only your father’s blood runs deep and pure in you.”
I gave him instructions (what to do) when it’s my time to pass away. Cremation and no funeral for me. Not surprising if he ends up tossing out my ashes wherever (although I hope it’d be in some beautiful sea 🙂 ). His inexplicable indignation no doubt he will hold on to.
I’d been a good and responsible mother; that I can uphold until the end of my days. May I be able to live many many more years to rejoice on that fact and take delight with what’s left in my life.
-dinner after hearing mass on the 9th day. Feeling terrible; not motivated to make myself pretty.
Dale Carnegie’s “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living“: I read it more than a dozen years ago; it made a strong impact on me. I’ve been reading it again due to recent circumstances and still consider it the most helpful of all the books designed to assist one in the most trying times.
Just had a gathering with close relatives and immediate family members and all I could think of was what motormouths those people are. You literally won’t be able to get a word in. It would’ve been ok if they had been uttering anything sensible; but they talk nonsense, are religious fanatics and even believe in ghosts. It’s almost impossible to receive consolation for your grief and feel ease from the emotional burden around them. How stressful it is to be in their company.
Rereading Dale Carnegie’s opus offers more solace. It’s also excellently written, provides true stories of both the famous and non-famous who were able to conquer their inner troubles, and every advice is simply practical and true. According to the author himself, which I heartily agree with, there’s nothing new from the lessons he imparted, yet many of the messages and real tales compiled only serve as a reminder of things that have been repeatedly tested and proven faithful to the facts of life.
Some of the most memorable points for me are:
I stood yesterday. I can stand today. and I will not permit myself to think about what might happen tomorrow. p.286
Accept and cooperate with the inevitable. Face the worst that can happen. Acceptance of what has happened is the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune.
It is so. It cannot be otherwise.
To be wronged or robbed is nothing unless you continue to remember it.
Don’t fuss about trifles. Don’t permit little things–the mere termites of life–to ruin your happiness.
When I was tempted to feel sorry for myself, I kept saying to myself over and over, “Now listen, as long as you can walk and feed yourself and are free from intense pain, you ought to be the happiest person in the world. No matter what happens, never forget that as long as you live. Never! Never!
Makes a great deal of sense for folks like me who’ve arrived at this phase of our lives. What a gem of a book.
Funny how so many things about life still keep on surprising me. More than a few have deemed me smart, very wise, sensible–even though I lack the right amount of intellect and spunk to become exceptional and rich.
Born in the mid-60’s, turned out a loner and a social misfit most of the time, went to college, held a number of jobs, got married at 26 years of age, had a baby, became a single parent (on and off) soon after, struggled for years raising a child by myself, had hoped for the rainbows to rise in the end. And I thought I’d already earned all the wisdom and knew the lessons of the world.
Now I only feel taken aback as to why some things culminate the way they do. What happened between me and my son? How could I have lost almost everything at this stage of my life?
Maybe I’m just in a state of shock these days — losing my mother all of a sudden, tragically. Guilt can be such a heavy burden. For someone like me who feels and thinks too much. Life sucks.
“Sex droids may well doom the human species, beyond religious and/or Luddite communities who see it as a duty to continue to procreate for procreation’s sake. Forget the female droids. When convincing male droids arrive, it’s over. Women will pay top dollar for a robo-boyfriend who never goes out late with the guys, never gets drunk, never smokes or has other bad or annoying habits, never has bad hygiene, is sculpted physically in exactly the way any woman wants (especially “down there”) and—this is the most important part—never prematurely ejaculates, is always as big and as hard as the woman needs, for as long as she needs it, and the droid can be programmed to “sex talk” her in her favorite actor’s voice. Hell, the droid can look exactly *like* her favorite actor, if she wants. Actors could handsomely *retire* on licensing their voices and imagery, simply for this purpose.”
A friend named Holly had this response to brad: If I could get all that and never have to deal with a human male again as far as a personal relationship goes, count me in. I never got all that from any man, it does’t exist. Only deceit, dishonesty and selfishness.
This is from a formerly long-term married woman who is the most loyal, trustworthy, honest person you could meet. I won’t give any man the chance to kick me in the teeth again.
Quite so. The boy was only 22 years old; three years younger than my son. Otto didn’t deserve the kind of fate that was handed to him. I can only imagine how terrified he must have felt last year during the process and his trial and the days that followed after receiving his sentence. The most vile, trashy news site which is Yahoo.com published heartless reader comments that even blamed this poor young man for his choice to go to North Korea and committing the mistake of taking down a banner to take home as souvenir. Many Liberals expressed similar thoughts while displaying their appalling demeanour toward the issue. How low could these people get.
I have very little compassion for the K citizens, whether they belong to the North or the South. I know their real nature as I’ve dealt with these type of beings for 10 long years. What little respect I’d previously held for the Obama administration, due to its inaction, completely dissipated as well.
My deep condolences to Otto Wambier and his family. My heart feels heavy every time I think about this unnecessary tragedy.
Half a world away from them all. With such location functioning as my shelter, my ordinary existence — through an ether that unites inhabitants across freeways — is suited to join the rising sun for everyone to see. Yet there’s no distance the mind and soul cannot reach. What can they perceive that’s beyond my outline of intended exposure? How do they sometimes just magically gain the key to the secret doors of my inner traits and psyche?
There remains a mission in me to search for any flash that could prompt a few thoughts, a series of lines, even a single one; steadily waiting for that jet of blue flame that might yield a sensitive, sound pretty script for these pages.
Any analysis, however, by Facebook or Twitter or Tumbler of my being would be futile. I am old now. What purpose could it probably serve? I simply hanker for peace, ease, and a li’l writing piece. I hope that’s not too much to ask.
RECENT FB POST: I was at my happiest in that land, where I felt I truly belong — in the sense everything about the place could foster my identity, spirit and the many fancies within my heart .
“I found a diary underneath a tree, and started reading about me.The words she’d written took me by surprise.You’d never read them in her eyes […]Her meaning now as clear as sea…The love she waited for was someone who’s not me.”
I used to think I was a much better parent to my child than you were to me. But I’m beginning to discern it may not be so.
Remember the time you told me how things would be better if I’d soon settle down again with someone – just anyone, you said – with whom I could spend the rest of my life with? Amusingly appalling, I thought, because we’d always been confident about our kind; at the same time I could sense you were plain worried of me ending up completely alone when you aren’t around anymore. You even made my son promise to you never to leave me ever. And we both believed him — yet he left a few years after. It became one more testament as to the only person who truly cared for me after all.
I also remember the moment shortly after you were gone, when this other daughter of yours had tried to talk me into shifting my devotion – and I turned speechless; it was not because I didn’t know what to think: She simply stood no chance of convincing me; how it was such an impossibility. Others would differ in their opinion as to my decision, but they didn’t know our history. They’d never come to know of or comprehend my feelings.
Secretly, I still carry the pain of your absence. The pain I’ve learned to conceal behind my every smile; ensconced with the same grief which I make sure descends beyond the perception of my external world. I’ve gotten used to doing just fine dealing with my reality – with the notion nobody understands and will ever understand. Silence has been more comforting anyway.
There are times I realize the tears aren’t solely caused by the sadness of missing you. I’m being sustained for the love I keep — sinking deeper with the time, with my memories of you — the kind I’ve kept neither those light nor dark hours could reach.
Now more than ever, it’s become all so clear – how it has finally dawned that your final resting place is inside my heart.
Happy Birthday, my dearest one.