Last Song Syndrome

I was misinformed. I received a message from my mother last night. She said that they were told, by the doctors I guess, that my grandmother has no chance of waking up. If they conduct an operation to remove the blood clot, the chances of her recovery are still less than 50%. Right now they are just working out a decision, on what course of action they ought to take.

Reading the words I had just written makes everything that’s happening very more so surreal. The feeling is different when something is happening and it’s not happening to someone else but to you and to the people you are connected with. It’s the difference between getting to read this from another person’s blog amd actually writing it for my own.

I wish to be with my mother. I want to see her face. I know that I do not feel as much as the pain she must be feeling.

Last night after we called mom, dad and I sat in silence for a short while. I knew that a talk with him was inevitably coming up.

I avoid opportunities of sitting down and talking with my dad. It’s not that it’s awkward; it’s like listening to my conscience. It’s like walking away from something you should do and then an inner voice starts nagging and you feel one of the things that make us humans humans – guilt. He talks of situations and good examples and gives advice and I start feeling like tar.

We talked about lola. I told him that I believe every option should be tried even if there were little chances of recovery. After all it’s a life we’re talking about, and on matters of life you’ve got to cling to whatever you can. He said that we’re trusting everything into our own hands, and we’ve forgotten to trust God. He believes we’re given a chance, a time to pray.

To me he sounded wise. I’m stubborn and I don’t easily give up. But maybe there are instances when you should let things happen as they should. Young as I am I still feel that passion to conquer what I can.

My dad, as he usually does, began talking about God. He told me that I should read the Qur-an, I’ll find many stories and lessons there. We have a huge translated version of the Qur-an, and it’s gathering dust. I gave him the lame (but rather honest) reason that I didn’t like reading it because it’s in old English, and you had to wrestle with the words. Then my dad said something so unexpected that caught me hook, line and sinker. "You’re smart, I know you’ll understand it. I have a limited understanding of English but you, I know that you’ll get it. It’s summer vacation, you have free time. What have you got to lose with reading it?"

The Qur-an is now on my desk in my room.

When things I consider significant happen, I wonder why I seldom can write about them. At first I think, "Okay I got something good to write about," but then I forget or my thoughts dart around and I keep putting things off until days end up having passed and that "event" becomes history. Napanis na. But then, I can easily ramble about the little, insignificant (or downright stupid) things, like say, bathing one of my cats or gutting fish.

Anywho, today I want to do something about that.

My mom and my younger brother Dandy left for Bohol this morning to visit my grandma, who, no matter how badly I don’t want to say it, is ill and had just been in a coma. Now, I don’t have that close a relationship with lola, since I only get to visit her about once or twice a year. But I know about the lady enough from my mom and relatives to be endeared with her. For one, she raised fifteen kids, all her own children (this just amazes me). And also, I heard that she’s pretty good in art, and that she once was an English teacher, and that she sang in their church… so now I think I know why I’m like this.

I’ve been told plenty of times how much I look like my mom, and how much I’M like my mom. I did get most of my features and blood type from her, but I am really not so sure that I’m anything like her at all. For one, my mom always came top or second in her class. She was the first female Electrical Engineering graduate from her place. She’s a good speaker and writer, meaning she’s good in Math AND in English (don’t you just hate that?). She’s an MPA. She’s a law school graduate and will be taking the bar exams soon. She can cook. What I’m trying to say is… she’s an achiever and a leader type of person.

My mom is tough, internally and externally. She joined the women’s ROTC when she was in college. They’re abolishing military training now right, since we all hate it so much. But she JOINED. She was also in a fraternity (I won’t mention the name). I mean, if I had been with her at that time, I would have told her she was crazy, and I know that she would have went on with it anyway. She has a green thumb. She can sing. She can DANCE. She can… do the plumbing, anything. She is literally all-around.

I am not bitterly comparing myself to her, if that’s what it sounds like. I am also not bragging about her. Maybe a little. What I am saying is, I adore my mother. I love her, and she knows it. That is why I pray her and Dandy a safe trip, and for lola to recover soon.

Mother’s Day is a little far ahead. So maybe I can’t consider this an early dedication. Actually, there is no special occasion after all. But I can’t consider this insignificant either.

i remember reading an interview of Michelle Branch once. she said that when she was young it broke her heart when she found out that the Beatles weren’t singing "she’s got a chicken to ride", but that instead it was "she’s got a ticket to ride".

speaking of chickens, one of my dad’s chickens died last Saturday. she died of… egg-laying complications. i feel sorry for her. i was really mean to her (and to most chickens).

this is the song in my head now.

Ticket To Ride as sung by the Carpenters

(*) I think I’m gonna be sad

I think it’s today, yeah

The boy that’s driving me mad is going away

(**) he’s got a ticket to ride

He’s got a ticket to ride

He’s got a ticket to ride

And he don’t care

He said that living with me

Is bringing him down, yeah

He would never be free

When I was around

Repeat (**)

Don’t know why he’s ridin’ so high

He ought to do right

He ought to do right by me

Before he gets to sayin’ good-bye

He ought to do right

He ought to do right by me

Repeat (*)

Repeat (**)

Don’t care

Think I’m gonna be sad…

i haven’t put anything here in a while. this blog is difficult to mange coz i have a gazillion songs playing one after the other in my head most of the time. one example is Air Supply’s All Out of Love thanks to that Dennis Trillo ad on tv. and then there’s Something by the Beatles (i saw a docu about them on tv yesterday). A Whole New World by Ruben Studdard. Crystal Kay’s Eternal Memories. the works. the song i will post is by Bonnie Pink coz it’s just so much fun.

So Wonderful

Bonnie Pink

Dekakeru mae ni nakushita katahou no piasu
Kyou to iu hi wa fukanzen na mama hashiridasu
Konna ame no naka tada matte iru
Sono hito ga watashi wo kanzen ni suru no

You’re so wonderful
You’re soaking wet. So what?
You’re so wonderful

Tsukareta kata ni oshikakaru guree no kumo
Asu to iu hi wo machinozomu no mo wasuresou
Taifuu mo boku ni hirefusu to
Sono hito wa watashi wo egao ni suru no

You’re so wonderful
You’re soaking wet. So what?
You’re so wonderful

Toukyou tawaa Statue of Liberty
Donna tenki mo ukeireru tsuyosa wo oshiete kureta hito

You’re so wonderful
You’re soaking wet. So what?
You’re so wonderful

linkage.