easter

a new life, maybe.

and yet i cannot help but feel that a part of me will no longer live again.

good friday...

Helen Reddy - I Don't Know How To Love Him (1971)

good dreams

woke up from a good dream and forced myself to sleep again to go back to that dream. i succeeded.

but it was just a dream.

it's when the quiet settles in, when everybody's resting, or right before i sleep, or immediately after i wake, that i think of you.

and i marvel at how easily you had stopped caring about me. i hurt you so bad that you feel i do not even deserve any attention. i am beginning to wonder now if you even read my text, or if you deleted it without reading. does it even matter now?you are gone.

remembering

this time 2 years ago i was practically living in the hospital, in a hijacked room on the pediatric floor (few children got sick that time, thankfully). i had a broadband stick, my laptop, and a couple of suits in the room. my secretary would bring paperwork to me.

daddy was in the CICU that time, with a tube down his throat to help him breathe.

he'd write things on a piece of paper if he wanted anything and it was an ordeal for him, this strongman who hated inactivity and who prided himself on being able to explain things in his booming voice.

i'd visit with him a few hours each day, since the CICU really did not allow visitors. daddy had his stream of visitors, though, and no one could stop them. except mommy, who would halt the influx of visitors when daddy got tired.

i really thought he would recover. i really did.

we all did.

i never confided in daddy. we did not have that kind of relationship. but i drew strength from him, and mommy. and i miss him so. he always knew that he could make things right, even if we were skeptical. his unwavering faith and determination knew no bounds.

wherever you are daddy (well, i know you're right behind me reading this, but humor me) i know you are happy and healthy and having a grand time with whoever is there. worry not about those you left behind. we are doing okay.

it is finished.

or so says one post on facebook. the lenten meditation for today, wednesday is "it is finished."

how apt.

i guess i reached a point where i feel that all the cliches known to man (and woman) apply to me. i will spare you the gory details but yes, there it is. all the cliches. all the songs on the radio. every quote posted.

every single thing applies to you. and you feel that life is every bit as unfair as everybody says it is. and you realize that life doesn't stop.

and you go on. it is finished.

and you begin again.

Promises - Eric Clapton

can't get this song out of my head.

rainy days and tuesdays

yesterday was a slightly hectic day, with a regular hearing, a grievance hearing, and a consultation, on top of other deadlines.

a friend from manila also arrived and we had coffee.

nonetheless, it was a productive day.

today is... well today is tuesday and it's dreary. with rains coming down in the middle of march (can anybody say climate change???) it's become a slow, sleepy, tuesday afternoon.

the coffee refuses to wake me up.

zzz

coming home

first time to drive by myself from manila to baguio. considering that i traveled during the day it was a pretty light trip.

i enjoyed the drive. only a few trucks on the road, and a little more than few idiots with driver's licenses. it helped that i had a playlist for driving. familiar songs kept me company, and i didn't even feel the 5+ hours on the road.

it was cold when i got home and i realized how much i miss our house. the bank of windows, the humongous round table, the wooden... everything. this had been a sanctuary for me, and i almost always feel at peace here.

of course it didn't help that the car's alarm decided to go wonky last night and engaged itself every hour or so. but, me being me, i fell asleep immediately as soon as my head hit the pillow.

and i feel daddy's presence here. comforting and secure. i do miss mommy though. but i will see her soon.

yes, it is good to be home.