To start building our life our life as family– my spouse, the baby I was carrying then and I. It was the image envisioned in my mind, when we agreed to stay in a little room in his mother’s compound in a little town outside the city.
To start building our life as a family. My spouse, the baby I was carrying then, and I. It was the image envisioned in my mind. We agreed to stay in a little room in his mother’s compound in a little town outside the city.
It is actually a suburb bustling with so much activity from dawn to dusk. Its residents have lived there for several years and grown many generations.
There are a lot of structures that they can brag of. Besides the old Churches, there were the Spanish-style houses with cozy balconies and windows made of capiz shells.
As days and months passed, the simple life of its people unveiled before me. The friendly smiles of the elderlies greet me as I passed them.
Peddlers haggling stuff like tilapia, peanut butter, buttered (small) shrimps, and rags were not uncommon sights on the streets. Neither the scents of various kakanins sold from morning until afternoon.
Young children running to and pro along the eskinitas. The religious piety of both the old and young alike. The noisy bets for the battles of spiders.
The arguments between the members of the paluwagans. People hanging out by the streets in wee hours, pretending they were playing cards or darts. These were a few of the things that may remind me of that place.
But above all else, what bemused me? It was how the neighborhood cradles hucksters. Hucksters trading the country’s most prominent, most prohibited substance today. It’s Methamphetamine Hydrochloride or simply, shabu.
Drub abuse in that little town does not choose age nor gender. Men and women alike, youths, and adults. Married, widowed, separated, single, and out-of-school kids. Students, laborers, drivers, professionals, and the unemployed. The stuff could lure anyone.
The community takes care as well of some “users, runners and mongers”. I realized they were mere pawns in this somewhat big and widespread illegal trade.
It’s a trade that could tolerate even the most painful consequences to a family.
I can only recall a few. Men keeping two wives under one roof. Minors forced into illicit affairs with dealers. Battered wives, and parents axed from their jobs. Couples being separated and mothers who abandoned their children.
Every day, these were only a few of what is actually happening before my eyes. I get curious why those people can outrun the authorities. They do their transactions even in the middle of the day, even they use the simplest street language.
It was a wonder why our other neighbors could tend to evade that. Were not their own sons and daughters affected as well?
Why the residents could overlook this and go on with their lives? Isn’t the neighborhood intertwined with their lives?
I realized existing in the same place demands to act oblivious to what was happening. But I cannot do what someone usually does there and it was sad that it seems it had made things worst.
That’s why I drafted this writing. Because the system affected my own budding family. It had seized from my daughter and me the chance to live peacefully with my husband.
Photo credit: Volkan Olmez on Unsplash
Drug dependence lured him again.
He was unemployed for some time now. But, he learned to steal and selling kinds of stuff. From jeans to CDs to auto spare parts to anything to support the vice.
He even got an affair with a married, much older and similarly, shabu-dependent woman. Somebody who could more satiate him with his monetary and salacious needs.
His family had warned me neither to be disturbed nor to mind him nor his ways. Since he was being his old self again, I had to stop waiting for changes and need not worry about him.
I must no longer mind if he went home at two o’clock or four o’clock in the morning. Suspicious callers must not bother me. Even they call him daily for clear “suspicious business”.
I must not nag. I must not force him to tell where else he had spent almost the 24-hour of his Sundays. Or even his Christmas and Valentines.
It’s funny that it’s still expected, or even insisted on me to remain a docile wife as ever. The house must be neat, and meals are cooked and ready. The kid is well-tended, and the wife must be cheerful and cuddly in spite of everything.
The idea seems foul enough, yet, I tried conforming to the expectations. I strive to be the embodiment of devotedness that was imposed upon me.
Yet, nothing changes.
The distance between us became much too raw and much too cold not to notice. We seldom share lunch or dinner together then.
More often, he was getting unreasonable and defensive. As if protective of something or someone.
The number of times he turned his back at night already hurts. The times our intimate relations became disgusting. He alone needs only to release the tension the substance built within him.
Our fights were another. I withdraw and explode later; while him, he started hitting me.
Apart from the vindictive words he threw, I was more insulted. I was more wounded about the idea that he wanted us to leave him all alone.
It felt as he has long given us up –our family, our relationship, and me.
It almost makes me crumble and shatter. Yet, faith reminds me not to let it defeat me.
It was when I decided, against my desire, to let go of him, and of everything that we started. Our dreams, our little family, and even our little home– if there’s used to be one.
I left that place and took my child with me.
Yet, hoping that in doing so, I am not yet giving up on him. I left vowing that I must do something about whatever happened. Or what is still happening there.
I left praying that we may still take my daughter’s father away from that deteriorating place.
Twice before, I have already tried going away with him to start a new phase of life somewhere.
Yet, he seemed scared about finally detaching himself from the charm of that place. The crutch of his frailties and of his dependency.
Anyway, who else would be brave enough to live a decent life amidst a place poisoned by cowardice and absurdity?
How many young families may still break because of the apathy of today’s society on drug abuse?
Whose children would be denied a secured future before the government will actually do something?
It is in this light that this writing is hoped to be taken.
For the purpose to go far beyond that small place. So that no more neighborhood will stage the same stories again.
That this tale would no longer repeat to another guileless young person’s life again.
Ever since I was a toddler, I often pictured myself as someone who’s older enough, nursing and cuddling a beautiful, bouncing baby girl I would name Cassandra.
I would dress her with a pink lacey gown with soft ruffles and put pink satin ribbons on her curly mane. I would tuck her in bed, tell her stories of princes and princesses and elves and fairies until she falls soundly asleep. Every morning, we would take walks together and I would show her the world around her.
Such a wonderful dream!
Yet, I really do not know how motherhood could have been lovelier–until then.
It was pleasant to remember that used to be within my womb is a tiny speck of miracle who, supposedly, could have been blooming and growing these days.
But perhaps, it’s sad that my baby have to come at a wrong time.
Wearily, I dropped my head, both forgetting the hideous white mask this small room is wearing and regretting the things I have just done.
As I shut my eyes, I heard again my own voice tearing the silence of the past.
“Lorenzzz.”
Lorenz, my boyfriend, was atop my naked body. While his rigorous pumps went faster and harder, he clung more tightly unto my body while running his tongue on my naked skin.
“Tart… Keith…”
And I felt him exploded into invisible pieces inside me.
“Lorenzzz… wait up…” Another spurt from him and he was lying on his back beside me.
“Hey, Keith are you okay? What are you staring about?” he asked me after a while, I can barely hear him behind the monotonous hum of the A/C.
The buzzing seemed to get louder against the stillness. The cold numbly bite on my flesh yet, it nudges me to finally speak.
“I’m afraid, Lorenz, maybe, I’m actually more scared than what I can say. We should have not gone this far,” I whispered a few minutes after, the chilling cold around the room, the thing that just happened between us and the fears building up within me all sent my voice to quiver.
“Ssh…”
“What if Dad learned about this? What if I end up just like Leslie?” Leslie was a classmate who had dropped out from school last semester after she got pregnant. “I don’t want that to happen to me.”
“Keith, stop fuzzing. Stay calm, okay. ‘No need to be scared,” Lorenz indifferently uttered.
He was alternately toying again with my peaks.
“But, Lorenz…” I felt electrified as I respond to his touch.
“I said, don’t worry. Just take those pills I’ve given to you, okay? They can help us,” he said, convincing me.
He, then promptly lowered his head unto my chest.
PERHAPS, HE IS RIGHT.
MAYBE, I CAN TRUST HIM, HE’S BEEN AROUND, I thought foolishly then.
At nineteen, so much was expected from me.
In fact, my dad’s anticipating that I would also be a good lawyer someday. That’s why he was that kind of strict.
It was really easy to please him until one day, during the school’s foundation anniversary, I met Lorenz, a good-looking junior from another Law school.
Eventually, he invited me for a date. It was followed by another date and another one. And after sometime, I ended sleeping with him.
And of course, Dad knew nothing.
Even my recent last visit to the OB clinic has been a secret. Though, I never thought that the obstetrician would later confirm what I still doubt earlier.
“Your tests came back positive, Miss Vialez,” the OB eagerly announced, not knowing her words were like bombs to my ears. I never thought that she would confirm what I still doubt earlier.
Foolishly, I tried to believe that getting pregnant was something that happened to other girls, not me.
Not me, I am sure of that.
Not me, not yet.
However, when I started missing a couple of periods, I began to panic.
Chaos of fears and confusions reeled in my mind. I even didn’t know how to react exactly—to be delighted or to be anxious. Of course, it my dream to be a mother, but not now.
But what shall I do?
“Why don’t we try the doctor suggested by my friend?” Lorenz softly implied on the phone. I’ve just called him and told him about the baby. “Owen said that doctor knows how to help people like us and he only asks a little payment.”
“Who’s doctor? What do you mean… are you saying…? Are you saying that you want to abort our baby? How dare you think about it?” I drawled at him.
I no longer mind his cold reaction about my condition but the idea that he just implied enraged me.
“Tart, we have no other choice…”
“But not abortion. Not that one. It’s no different than murder, Lorenz. I could not allow anyone to kill my own child.”
“Keith, you’re not thinking, are you? You’re going to have a baby, yet, we are too young to be his parents. Tell me, what do you know about taking care of a kid?”
Then, why didn’t we think of these things before, I wanted so much to shout at him, but I might not have the will to do so.
“You told me that’s it going to be okay. You said the pills will help us.”
“If only you have been careful.”
“I’ve skipped only once.”
“Damn, Keith, look what happened? What do you think we will do next? Sit on our damn ass? Relax while waiting for that baby to come out and make our lives more miserable?” he sharply said.
“Please, Lorenz, stop blaming me.”
“Okay, okay, just think about what I’ve said. Not our best option, but it will do us good.” Lorenz reminded before the dial tone went on.
I thought hard, cried and tried to make some sense out of his words; and there really isn’t.
Abortion.
How could he ever think of abortion when we are talking of our own child?
Maybe it was just sad that my little Cassandra had to come too soon. I wonder, DOES SHE EVER FELT UNWELCOMED AND UNLOVED?
OH, IF ONLY I HAVE BEEN BRAVE FOR HER.
But, I have been alone and very confused during those times.
That a week after that phone call, I found myself lying helplessly on that narrow coach untidily covered with a yellowish cloth.
Somewhere outside that room, I heard Lorenz talking with someone. Then, a man in white robe entered and gave me two pricks of injection and went out, leaving me alone again.
After almost an hour, I just felt a stinging pain down my lower abdomen as if a hundred big pins were piercing it.
Afterwards, it gradually lessened, but later returned.
The intensity of the pain was much greater then – it seemed a steel belt was being tightened and twisted around my waist.
“Aaarghh… Lorenz… it hurts.” I cried out, wishing at least he could hear me.
Moments passed, I was already panting and soaked.
I was beginning to be totally scared, when a man in white came in and gave me another shot of injection.
Maybe, fear of what shall happen next, I just closed my eyes against the gleaming lights.
The pain was still there when the man started to work on my lower body with a cold instrument. As he moved it in and out between my legs, shiver crept my spine painfully.
I COULD NO LONGER REMEMBER HOW LONG IT LASTED UNTIL I FELL ASLEEP AND DREAMT THAT MY BABY HAD WAILED HARD, FOUGHT HARD TO LIVE, BUT I, MYSELF, HER OWN MOM, REFUSED TO EMBRACE HER.
MY POOR ANGEL, I KNOW SHE’S GONE.
Then, a few days after we had gone from that concealed clinic, I was suddenly experiencing cramps, but suspected nothing about it, I just ignored it.
Then, immediately the following day, there was just a terrible, severe pain; and later, continuous bleeding.
The blood just won’t stop.
I was scared as hell with the sight of the scarlet blood and the recurring horrors of the abortion in my mind that perhaps, I had finally passed out.
When I opened my eyes, I was already inside this white, neat room. I heard two fuzzy, distant voices from somewhere.
I tried to move but I was so exhausted and drained.
The voices outside continued murmuring—might be of my dad and the attending doctor. From the torrent of their words, I could only sense a few.
“Failed to remove other products of conception…
infections…
serious complications…
hemorrhage…
hysterectomy…
sterility…”
THE HORRORS OF ABORTION, INDEED.
My head seems spinning; nevertheless, I try to sit on my bed, looked outside the dull night.
The moon, dumb and bright has just risen over some distant mountains, while I remained where I was slumped, musing.
I try to believe that one of the million shimmering sparks of lights up there is my own little star. My own little baby whom I snuffed out the chance to see the rays of the sun.
She would never even blow her pink little candles or wear her pink ribbons.
“Cassandra, my sweet darling, you do not deserve me for disowning you, but I wish that you’ll still smile upon me from way up there. Whenever sorrow and regret haunts me, may you always be there to happily shine light to the darkness of my nights.”
PERHAPS, MY MOURNING FOR MY BABY WHOM I NEVER KNEW SHALL LAST A LIFETIME.
Tears start forming on my eyes—tears for losing Cassandra and all the lost babbling babies I would have had.
My dream of bearing and rearing my own children shall always be a mere and lifeless dream.
This short story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Where am I? All I felt was a kind of stillness, which made me rather strong amidst it.
Important: Some scenes may contain suggestive theme and strong language. If you are uncomfortable with any of it, please stop reading here.
It was quite cool but I was not cold.
The place was misty and the silence was deafening. I heard faint voices until darkness surrounded me.
I have been on a long journey, yet, it seems I haven’t.
I was too tired but I found myself here. It’s hard to understand I feel quite relieved and kinda light now. It seems that I have discharged a heavy burden.
It was really odd. I was alone but I have no fears.
Where am I?
All I felt was a kind of stillness, which made me rather strong amidst it.
“Aireen.”
A deep voice that possessed both the charm of tenderness and respected authority, called from nowhere.
The place is foggy, I couldn’t tell if there is someone here other than me. Maybe, my mind was merely playing tricks.
“Aireen!”
Uh-uh, there goes that voice again.
This time, I am sure that it came not from my mind, but somewhere within this place.
“Come, My Child.”
I strode a few steps– then, abruptly stopped, doubting where to go.
Wait, I have no idea where the voice came from, how could I follow?
“Welcome home, my little One.”
“Who are you? Where am I? Is this a dream?”
Eager to see whom I am talking with, I turned around, looking, waiting.
“Don’t you recognize Me? Can’t you remember this place?” the voice asked. “You’ve left this place fifteen years ago. This is your real home. I’m happy that you’re back, My daughter.”
Suddenly I get the notion that I knew where I am and whose big yet soft voice was sounding.
“Good Heavens! My God? My Lord? Is that You?”
“Yes, My child.” The voice answered with such pride with my recognition of Him.
“Where are You? Why can’t You just show up?” I exclaimed, I spun around as if I was dancing, trying to find the owner of the voice. “I’m longing to see Your face, your smile. Wait, by the way, do you smile, Lord?”
“Of course, I do. Ha Ha Ha!”
“Gosh and you also laugh. But, why are you still hiding? I used to hide when I had pimples. Are you also shy of pimples?”
“Naughty child, I am not hiding. I am here beside you. You only have to wander around with enough faith and love. Only then, you shall see Me.”
Something bright lit behind me; and as I turned to look, the most splendid court in heavens and earth unveiled wonderfully before my very eyes. Beautiful angels with manes of ebony and gold were everywhere.
Then, I found myself standing before God.
His face and clothes were beaming with glorious radiance. I have noticed His smile when I stared at Him with such blessedness.
“I hope it’s not yet morning. Lord, can you stop my red clock from ringing and interrupting us? I don’t like this dream to end.”
“Lovely lass, you are not dreaming. All of these are real.”
The Lord paused for a while, then took a deep sigh.
I felt the sudden gloom, which crossed His face.
“You don’t really remember, do you?” He took a while to say His next words, “I love you, My Child and I can’t endure seeing you hurt again, even only trough remembering–but since you’ve asked.”
“What do you mean, Lord?”
“Aireen,”His dark eyes fixed on mine; His voice, suddenly strained. “Your mortal body has been dead for days now.”
I was stunned.
DEAD!?!
“Dead? Do I hear you right, My Lord? Why? How can it be when I am still very much alive now. I could still talk… and walk…” I stammered in disbelief.
I AM NOT DEAD!
I made a step or two, and then, hop.
God was already smiling a faint, wry smile when I met His eyes.
I’ve just realized I’ve asked too many questions at the same time. I couldn’t help not to smile, as well, for my foolishness.
“Yes, you are alive. You shall always be alive. You are Aireen’s soul. You are the one I have sent to a lovely couple some years back. You are the gift of Life that I have breathed to the cuddly frame of Aireen Vergara.”
His voice was more soothing now and He spoke with such calmness. However, His eyes were dancing with such pride and happiness.
I forced my lips to remain tightly shut because I prefer listening to such an awesome God, who is both happy and sad for my death.
Sad–because He knows that it hurts me to leave my family, my father and my mother and my sister.
Happy–because I am finally Home, back in His arms again.
“I am glad that you’re parents didn’t fail me. They have loved and cared for you heart fully.”
“Then. why Lord? Why did you allow me to leave them this early?” I felt my voice quiver.
I do not blame God. True. However, when I almost cried as I pleaded, I knew I still sounded that way.
“I know how you dearly love your parents and your sister, but…” He hesitated, the rhythm of His voice was fading. “How can I tell you, My Child?”
“What’s bothering You, Lord? Did something awful happened to my family?”
He drew a brief sigh and continued, “just close your eyes and I’ll let you see something.”
I willingly closed my eyes.
A second later, I saw a teenage girl sprawled on a cogon area and certainly breathless.
I uttered a silent “Oh!” when I recognized the torn, blue dress, which the girl was wearing. It was the gift of my parents for my birthday!
“My God, that’s me!”
I might have not even heard my own voice because of too much distress. I felt myself growing weak, that I tried to reach out and hold unto God to gain some strength.
“Yes, Aireen, it was you– or more correctly, your mortal remains,” His voice was soft yet, definite.
“So, am I really dead, Lord? But, why did I have to had a death as ugly as that?”
The horrible picture of the girl at the cogon brought chills upon me.
The blue dress was ripped at its left side, almost reaching the waist. There congealed blood stains all over it, as well on the sober and exposed body.
AND THAT GIRL WAS ME!
Then, abruptly, the memories of that dreadful Sunday morning came running in my mind.
It was the exact day of my fifteenth birthday and I asked my parents to leave me behind at the church after the Mass, to spend more time thanking God.
When I went home walking, a white van suddenly stopped a little ahead of me. Two men alighted and forcefully dragged me into the open car.
I fought hard but those men were mightier ; none of my efforts paid off and they succeeded in finally getting me inside their van.
Fear pushed me to shout helplessly ‘though I knew that nobody could hear me because the van was tightly closed and it was driving very fast out of San Carlos town.
Eventually, moments passed on so swiftly before I realized the nightmare that was happening.
THOSE MEN RUTHLESSLY ABDUCTED AND MOLESTED ME. I, A FLOURISHING FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL: DESTROYED AND DEAD.
IT WAS SUCH A LOATHSOME GIFT!
The thought was so sad that I didn’t noticed that tears were already streaming down my cheeks.
“Hush, Aireen, you are safe now,” God comforted me thoughtfully, “they can no longer hurt you again… never.”
“Oh, God, I am just grievous to know that they could really harm a fragile, little girl like me,” I reasoned, both confused and scared. “Why did You let them do it, Lord?”
“I love you, My Child, as much as I love all my people. But, many of them have already turned their back against Me and refuse to heed me anymore.”
I look at His sad eyes.
“Many of My people are lost and have let themselves to be helpless slaves of Evil,” His voice was gloomy and yet, the truth of His words is evident.
He spoke so kindly and He didn’t take His eyes off me.
“Aireen, your death has a purpose for my people. They shall believe that the evil has really gone deep among st them. They shall open their eyes and finally, see what the evil can truly do,” He paused, “and yet, at the same time, they shall also realize that they have been working already for the Devil.”
“Those men stabbed me continuously,” I recalled the moment with disgust.
“You were so brave, then. You fought to live, in spite of the wounds they repeatedly inflicted on you,” He almost stuttered, “in spite that you were already bleeding profusely.”
“I must live, Lord. They must pay!” My voice echoed and I felt the torment of my whole being, as strong as the sudden urge to retaliate.
“But you did not cease crying, even during your silence. The cuts and the bruises may have hurt you enough; and yet, they still didn’t stop. I am just thankful that you were such a strong girl to hang on that long.”
“You were my strength, Lord. I just thought that You were there beside me. Maybe, that was why I chose to be calm. Somewhere within me, I trusted that I was not alone during those scary moments.”
“Indeed, Aireen. A man is hurt to realize that he is never alone all through his life,” God said with such compassion. “Oftentimes, My Presence is mostly felt when a man is at his loneliest. My Love burnt most intense when a man is at his weakest.”
Meanwhile, a solemn music echoed from a nearby place.
We stood there in silence. Later, I leaned on Him.
It was such a cozy moment. Somehow, I felt safe beside Him.
IF ONLY MEN GRAB THE CHANCE OF BEING LOVED AND COMFORTED BY SUCH A GREAT GOD!
He broke the trance., ” I love you, Aireen. It pains Me when my fondest Creation is destroyed. I created you with so much care– carve your frame so patiently. Know every part of your delicate being.”
He paused, letting His words to sink in; then, began patting me on the shoulder.
“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever made,” God continued.
“I have redeemed you from those beasts. I can no longer allow anyone to hurt you that way again. Your cries almost tore Me to pieces,” His words deeply touched me, that I was dumb for a few minutes.
Turning to face Him, I asked, “They are bad. How can I make other people know that?”
I gazed up to God. My question had been asked, but it might lingered on my face.
“They are really not bad, My little one. They have only wandered away from My fold and gone astray. You see, I gave them freedom to choose their kind of life and, sadly, most of them, preferred the wrong way.”
“And You still love them, Lord?”
“Always. I do not change, Aireen. Standing beside you is a Father who still aches for the return of His lost children. How I yearn to hear their voices calling My Name once more. How I like to feel that they need Me again. Indeed, I dream and I am looking forward for the day when they shall all return Home.”
“You shall not punish them for what they have done to me?” I asked with such regard to this Great God of man.
“Unless, they don’t turn back and repent for their wrong doings, they shall not only be punished by laws of man, but shall be also deprived of the Gift of Life and Eternity,” He paused. “It’s sad that a sin can make man suffers its consequences.”
WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY TO A GOD LIKE THAT?
We kept failing Him, a million times and more and yet, here He is–keeps on waiting and reaching out to us and saving us from our mistakes, every single time.
“Can you forgive them, My child?”
“It was hard, Lord. Actually, I do not want to do that,” I gazed up at Him, “however, because my God forgives the worst sinner, who am I not able to forgive as well? Because my God loves the most unlovable sinner, who am I not able to do the same?”
“My gratitude, Aireen. I am proud of you, My child, so as of your parents, who have raised you.”
The mere mention of my parents instantly brought gloom in my heart.
IF ONLY I COULD DIE TOMORROW…
IF ONLY I COULD JUST WALK BACK HOME AND HUG THEM BOTH FOR LONG TIME…
“Aireen, you must not regret dying now. As long as you have lost nothing, be calm. Be happy that you had died prepared, in spite of your young age. The sunshine, which you have radiated on your stay on earth shall continue warming up other lives.”
“Can I see them, Lord? I mean, can I have a last glimpse of earth and my family?” I looked up, wondering how will God react to my question.
“Yes, certainly, you can, but be back immediately. The Heavens is your Home now, where you are destined to belong and be the happiest.”
Moments passed and I am already standing amidst my wake.
My very own wake.
I quickly noticed familiar faces among the mourners. My cousins, my aunts and uncles, my grannies, my neighbors, my teachers, my classmates from High School and even from Elementary. They have come, to finally bid goodbye for their little Aireen.
OH, IF ONLY THEY KNOW THAT DEATH COULD ALSO BE A SWEET THING, MAYBE, THEY’LL JUST THANK GOD THAT I WAS BLESSED TO DIE YOUNG.
I found my Papa and Mama standing beside the silver casket. Papa’s arm is over Mama’s shoulders. She was leaning her head to his chest.
PAPA, MAMA…
Just recently, they have just expressed their profound appreciation to my being a rule-abiding teenager. They were even excited that, supposedly, after three years, their little Aireen shall finally be introduced to the world– their vibrant, outspoken little Aireen turning fifteen will soon be a graceful swan of eighteen.
ALAS, ALL IN A SUDDEN, THEIR BUDDING TEENER IS A LIFELESS AND COLD DEAD!
I walked towards the casket surrounded by wreaths of yellow and violet flowers. They surely know my favorites.
The glass board over it clearly displayed the following words:
In Loving Memory of
Aireen Morales Vergara
Born: October 10, 2001
Died: October 10, 2016
I peeked inside the casket and I was surprised with how the corpse inside looks. It appeared to be different, as if it belonged to another person.
PERHAPS, A DIFFERENT AIREEN LIES THERE.
I, Aireen, the girl known for being vivacious and sunny was gone.
GONE!
My laughter and endless queries shall never be heard again…
My out-of-tune songs would no longer pay homage to a new day…
My lips would no longer share the warmth of its smile…
When I was about to leave later, I glanced once more to the cold, small frame, which I used to share my life with.
It was then that I noticed that its pale lips were curved unto a sheepishly smile.
I HAVE DIED SMILING!
Too much pain may have killed me, but because I was hurt enough, that the same pain pushes back the agony I’ve been while the joy of my real nature as a teenager shows through.
Therefore, even at my death, I have not lost the one gift God have given me– to be a ray of sunlight to other lives.
MY DEATH, AFTER ALL, IS NOT REALLY A TRAGEDY TO GRIEVE UPON.
In fact, it was my life’s greatest goal: a dream to come Home to my Heavenly Father’s dwellings and to live eternally even after my death, believing that because my God lives, I shall live also.
The earth shall now be a living myth within the core of my memories.
The majestic mountains I have wished to climb, the fiery sea I have wished to sail on, the babbling birds on my window panes and the view of a starry night from my bedroom’s clear glass sun roof.
They are tokens to always remind me that once, I was blessed to share my life with God’s beautiful world.
Whatever had caused my death, whatever man had done to Aireen Vergara didn’t matter anymore.
From hereon, I know that I shall always remember earth with its goodness and loveliness, along with all the love and care I’ve been nestled with and the faces and voices I’ve been at home with.
What we have enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
– Helen Keller
That’s it! I have done several attempts already—to write the layout for my story.
Those were the nights when the kids were already fast asleep. The silence is too tempting not to scribble a few lines.
I know this is my time now. I have waited for this for quite so long. Nuon pa nga, I have the only dream of having my own typewriter to be able to write.
And years passed, it was an aspiration tossed aside from many occurrences.
I grew up, went out of my comfort zone, and confront the world. I took the risk of opening myself and falling in love several times. I have borne my children. Travel to very few places. I have been happy and then, also hurt over again.
But the dream lives on. I still wanted to write.
I never stop wanting to see my own book published one day. And that one day, I guess, it is going to happen soon—no matter what.
But as I sit in front of my Lenovo, as I struggled to lay down one heck of a layout for my story, I can’t think of anything else.
And it went on for several nights already. Then, a friend, upon listening to me, said that why I do not write about something that I like. Or about someone that I like to be.
Seems like a piece of cake but it’s still hard to think what I do want.
As I dare myself to love in the past, I also opened myself to failures and pains. Sometimes, I cannot help not to be scared. Paano kung naubos na ako? What if I have given my all and I’m left with nothing within me to push me to write? What if I am already disillusioned and have stopped believing in the spark of love?
How can I write, then?
But, wait, this is not only about romantic tales, isn’t it?
Recently, my baby came. ‘Such a sweet, sweet bundle of joy to our little family.
Her partly-opened eyes when she’s asleep. Her curious (clueless) stares around her and her mischievous open-mouthed grins. How her ate and kuya is growing very fond of her each passing day.
These remind me that, yes, Life is actually all about love, no matter what.
Surprisingly, those simple love tales still curve a smile on my lips. Be it a story between couples or parents or children, it still melts my heart. That way, I know that my faith in the magic of love still remains in me. I cannot be left without anything, in spite of all those pains and mistakes.
Hindi isang simpleng responsibilidad ang maging isang single mother. Lalo na’t sa kailaliman ng pagkatao niya’y alam niyang siya ay isang traditional na ina.
“My heart is broken, but I am alive and he did that. And when you are alive, you feel pain. Those are the rules.”
(Jess Gradwell, from the TV series, Sex & Single Mom)
Masyadong mahaba ang gabi. Maalinsangan. Tahimik. Isang paalala sa kaniyang pag-iisa ang kahungkagan ng gabi. Ang pag-iisang ito sa loob ng maliit na silid ay isang nakakalungkot na sensasyong bumabalot sa kanyang katauhan. Maaring ito’y isang kalungkutan sa tuwing darating ang gabi at mapapalingon siya sa bakanteng papag sa tabi niya. Minsan lamang sa isang linggo, ang kahoy na papag na iyan ay malayang kumakanlong sa kanyang munting anghel sa tuwing siya’y umuuwi pag OFF niya.
“I walk alone on this lonely path, wishing somebody would join me…yet, also, wishing there would be nobody around…”
Ngayon, ang daming naglalaro sa isip niya–ang kanyang kahapon, ang kanyang kasalukuyan at ang kanyang kinabukasan. Isa siyang single mother. Solo parent sa iilan. Disgrasyada kung patalikod na tawagin ng marami. Miinsan siya’y nagpakapal ng mukha para malampasan ang lahat ng panlilibak ng ibang tao at marahil, ang mga pagtatanong kahit mismo ng kanyang sariling pamilya.
Sa loob-loob niya, siya’y napaglaruan ng sinasabi nilang “pag-ibig”. Na-in love nga siya at halos ibigay ang lahat sa lalaking naging ama ng kaniyang anak. Pati’y sarili’y ipinagkatiwala niya sa tadhana; sa paniniwalang karapat-dapat ang lalaking iyon. Naniwalang nakatakda silang magkasama lagi bilang isang pamilya.
“Never presume that I could possibly encounter such time, such powerful, profound force that lately I just can’t evade; it draws on a different meaning to everything that stirs around…”
Ngunit kahit na-in-love pala siya’y, hindi rin siya makakatagal na maghintay sa isang pangakong sa umpisa pa lamang ay malabo na. Isang klasikong drug dependent ang ama ng kaniyang mga anak. Isang lalaking pinabulok ng droga ang mga ambisyon. Na-in-love siya dito at pilit pa ring pinapaniwala ang kaniyang sarili na malalampasan nila ang lahat.
Ngunit, naging mahaba ang mga gabi.
Madalas, siya’y isang pigura sa tapat ng pulang gate. Nag-aabang, nagbibilang, hindi lamang ng mga sasakyang manaka-nakang dumaraan sa kanyang harapan, kundi nagbibilang pati ng mga bituing inaasahan niyang kikislap rin sa langit niya pagkatapos ng mga gabing iyon.
“The night is mine…holding me…shielding me…hiding me…”
Ah, isa lamang iyon sa kaniyang pagkakamali noon. Kaya nang halos maramdaman na niyang isa-isa nang nawawala ang mga pinahahalagahan niya sa sarili–lalo na ang natitirang respeto–nagmamadali siyang nagbalot ng kanyang mga gamit at nilisan ang lalaking dati-rati’y kanyang sinamba.
“To rash barefooted, with the wind, bothering not of any hefty load or thought…”
Hindi isang simpleng responsibilidad ang maging isang single mother. Lalo na’t sa kailaliman ng pagkatao niya’y alam niyang siya ay isang traditional na ina. Kung maari nga lamang, mananatili na lamang siya sa tabi ng kanyang anak sa lahat ng oras–pero,imposible pang mangyari ito sa kasalukuyang set-up nila ngayon. May trabaho rin siyang dapat na unahin para sa kanilang kabuhayan.
Anyway, ilang taon na nga bang dinadala niya ang titulong ito? Isa? Dalawa? Apat na taon? Matagal na rin at kasabay halos ng pagsuko niyang harapin ang sunod-sunod na pagsubok, naiisip pa rin niyang isang araw, malalampasan rin niya ang lahat.
Mas’werte siya at may isang anghel ang ibinigay sa kanya na sa tuwina’y may handang sorpresa para sa ikakasiya niya. Oo, ngiti man o halakhak ng kanyang munti ay bonus na para mabuo ang isang araw niya.
“Each new morning rises up with your laughters fading in my mind…each new day reminds me of your unpretentious smiles, easing up life’s loneliness.”
Hindi nga naging madali ang maging isang single mom. Minsan naitatanong niya sa sarili kung choice ba niya ito o ito ay ang kanyang tadhana. Gugustuhin ba niyang maging isang single mother uli kung sakaling siya ang papipiliin ng kanyang buhay?
Alam niyang sa umpisa pa lamang, sa oras pa lamang ng pag-lalabor niya sa kanyang panganay, isang isolated na role na ang kaniyang gagampanan at pipiliting malampasang mag-isa. Pagkatapos noon, hindi niya akalaing darating din pala siya sa punto ng realisasyon.
Pilit niyang pinagtakpan ang bawat maling nangyari sa kaniya sa nakaraan. Iyon pala, pahiwatig lamang iyon ng sariling agam-agam niya sa nagawang desisyon ilang taon na ang nakaraan. Ilang beses niya ring inaalis sa isip na may kurot ng pagsisisi ang kanyang tuluyang pag-alis noon sa bahay ng ama ng kanyang anak.
“Only where this freezing pain can be eased, can be forgotten…again, drop a dime and wish that this infernal being would never be hurt again…”
Ngayo’y halos nakalimutan na niya ang kakatwang lamig ng dampi ng hangin sa tuwing siya ay inaabot ng madaling-araw sa pagtayo sa me pulang gate at nag-aantay sa pag-uwi ng lalaking iyon.
Ngayon halos kaya na niyang magtimpi at hindi lumuha sa tuwing pumapailanlang ang farewell notes ng isang kanta ni Lani Hall.
Ngayon, alam niyang tuluyan nang lumamig ang galit that almost explode her wits then. Ni hindi na niya makapa ang anumang bloke nito sa kaloob-looban ng kanyang kamalayan.
“This bruised heart’s little door just closed…shunning, evading, another love, another loss and maybe its death…”
Ngayon, nagawa na niyang lumimot at magpatawad. Nagawa na nga niyang malampasan ang paglimot sa isa lamang lalaki sa buhay niya. Ngunit, hindi niya inakalang ito at ang tuluyang pagtalikod na iyon ay magiging isang pagbubukas naman para sa mas maraming paghamon.
Mas madaming patibong na kaydaling aakit sa kanya kung gugustuhin lamang niya. Ngunit, may mga gabing napapabuntong-hininga pa rin siya at naiisip kung paano naman kaya sa bawat pagdadalawang-isip, sa bawat kalungkutan na naramdaman niya ay may bagong bisig na kakanlong sa kanya?
Noon, dumating siya minsan sa pagkakumahog para i-kunsidera halos lahat ng mga nakilala at umakyat ng ligaw sa kanya. Dumating na kasi siya sa puntong akala niya ay sawa o takot na siya sa pag-iisa. Na halos pinanabikan na niya ang mayakap at lambingin muli, tulad lamang ng ibang ordinaryong babae. Na kahit man lamang sa loob ng isang saglit, hindi niya kailangang magkunwari, that she’s unafraid to admit that after all, umiiyak pa rin siya.
“In different seasons, in distant zones, in every phases, in the least unexpected affairs, Life acquainted me to these sons of Adam.”
Ngunit, sadyang mali lamang talaga ang mga lalaking naka-relasyon niya noon. Mali–dahil iisa lamang ang kanilang hangarin –to have an affair with her– walang commitment, walang pagmamahal. Isang affair na madalas nag-uumpisa at natatapos rin mismo sa kanyang kama. Animo’y ang kanyang pagiging single mom ay isang hamon na dapat mapenetrate ng bawat human male specie. Ngunit, sabi niya uli, “malalampasan ko rin ito.”
Pakiramdam niya, bawat minuto ay isang pagsubok kung hanggang kailan niya panghahawakan ang determinasyon at huwag magpapatalo sa mga paghamon. Marami na rin ang nag-akalang mabibitag siya ng tuluyan sa kanilang front. Isang kakatawanan talaga, kasi pag napaniwala na siya sa panibagong pangako, saka siya maiiwan sa ere.
Pagkatapos ng isa, ilan pa silang kumatok upang muli siyang paniwalain, muling payakapin sa isang maling idelohiyang “kailangan ng mga babae ang mga lalaki.” Upang muling ipaalala sa kanya ang realisasyong matagal na niyang tinatanggihang tanggapin.
Minsan, dumating na ang bagong pagkakataon–ang special moment at ang special na tao na hinihintay niya. Saka lamang niya napagtanto na pagkatapos ng lahat, naging at home na pala siya sa pag-iisa at ramdam niya ang kakatwang takot na iwanan ang pamilyar na ambience nito –at marahil, pati ang independence na matagal-tagal na ring nagbibigay ng seguridad sa kanya.
At dahil sa tagal na rin na, mas pinili niyang isarado ang pag-ibig sa sistema niya. Bigla na lamang niyang naisip na hindi niya maipagkaiba ang simpleng infatuation from the deeper thing called “love”. Bigla, hindi niya mapagdesisyunan kung saan i-lulugar ang terminong “pag-ibig” sa kuwadradong buhay niya.
Na para bang ang anumang mga bagay na na-plano niyang mag-isa ay mawawalan ng kahulugan kung sakaling papayagan niyang pumasok muli sa kanyang tunay na mundo ang pag-ibig. Gayunpaman, pagkalipas ng mga taon, ang bawat oras ay ipinagpapasalamat na lamang niya. Nakalampas na nga siya.
“Finally conquered the torrent of yesterday…beyond the shadows of pains, a woman of depth…a woman of courage finally, beautifully enfolds…”
Tama, ang mga taon ay naging lubhang mahalagang aral para sa kanya. Ang mga pagkatalo ay nagmarka na sa kanya.
Gayunpama’y alam niya na ang mga pagsubok at problema ay hindi pa tuluyang matatapos. Marami pa rin ang mga gabing magdadaan nang siya’y nag-iisa pa rin. Marahil, wala na ang dating kahungkagan. Maaring sa pagdaan ng mga taon ay nasanay na siya.
Marahil, maaring marami pa rin ang mga lalaking darating para siya’y umasa muli.
Ngunit, naniniwala siyang dadaanan na lamang niya ang mga ito. At lalampasan.
At muli, siya ay magpapatuloy pa rin.
“She faced the hardest times you could imagine. And many times her eyes fought back the tears. And when her youthful world was about to fall in; each time her slender shoulders wore the weight of all her fears and a sorrow no one hears. Still rings in midnight silence in her ears.”
Gray ang pa rin ang langit. Tila nagbabadya muli ng malakas na ulan, ngunit kung gaano naman katagal na ako’y nag hintay sa pagbagsak nito, ay ganuon naman kadali itong bubuhos, na halos hindi ko pa maramdaman ang lamig nito.
Ngayon ay last day rin namin sa internship sa NCMH o National Center for Mental Health o ‘ika nga, Mental Hospital para sa aming practicum. Hindi man lang kami nakapag picture taking sa harap nila Sisa at ng kanyang mga anak. Souvenir sana kasi–kung paanong hindi lamang ang utak ko ang halos maburyong sa iilang araw na pamamalagi sa kanilang mundo, kundi ang mismong pagiging isang tao ko na rin.
Hindi biro ang maisalang ng totohanan sa harap nilang iniwanan ng katinuan ang pag-iisip. At duon nga, naisip ko kung sino nga ba ang mas ma swerte? Nakakalungkot ang mga una hanggang huling pakikisalamuha namin sa kanila. Sayang, kasi nalaman ko na may mga sariling pangarap rin sana sila na gustong maabot.
Ngunit, sa isang banda, naiisip ko rin na mabuti pa sila. Hindi na nga nila kailangang magtago sa katagang “complicated” sa Facebook at maaring hindi na rin sila ma he heart broken pa. Hindi na rin nila kailangang magpaka plastic o magtago ng kanilang nararamdaman. They can say whatever they want and they can do whatever they like to do.
Sa sandaling oras na kaulayaw namin sila, iisipin mo kung paanong nangyayari yung mga pagbabago– dahil lamang sa mga pangyayari na sobrang mabigat dalhin at isipin para sa kanila.
Hindi ba maiisip mo na kahit ang tawag natin sa pagkabaliw ay isang sakit, ay sadyang napaka galing ng ating Diyos? paanong ang isang sakit sa utak ay magkaruon ng ganuong epekto sa isang tao? at nangyayari yun kasi kailangan lamang na automatikong protektahan ang isang tao ang kanyang sarili laban sa alaala ng mga masasakit na pangyayari sa kanyang buhay?
Buti pa nga siguro ang baliw, hindi na nga ma-heheart broken. May sarili na kasi siyang defense mechanisms. Alam niya kung sino ang dapat bigyan ng tiwala o hindi. Marahil, alam niya rin kung paanong madaling isarado ang isip sa ayaw na niyang isipin pa.
Gabi na naman. Gray pa rin ang langit. OK lang naman kung umulan. Sana nga umulan. Mas masarap sanang mag sound trip mamaya. Oo na, tamang senti nga eh. Sino ba ang heart broken na hindi nasisiyahan sa kahit anong kanta ng “letting go”? Kung pwede ngang mabura ng bawat nota ng mga kanta ang nasa bawat hibla ng kahungkagan na andito pa eh.
Pero buti na lang, nananatiling nasa realidad umiikot ang mundo ko. Kahit na tamang pasaway na ang mga bata sa tabi ko, at mapagal man ako sa kakasaway sa ingay ng pagbabangayan nilang dalawa, ok na rin lang talaga. Kahit na maging heart broken uli. Kahit paano, alam kong malaya pa rin akong mangarap para sa aking mga anak.
Perle en Stylos 