Lola

The last time I posted about her was last Christmas. At the time she was still in the right state of mind and was all sorts of brave trying to fight an illness that was gradually eating her up from the inside. She was up for every treatment the doctors would suggest to us, believing she could get better. We were worried about her physical limitations brought by old age, but she was not. She was always saying "kaya ko", even if the treatments were incredibly painful and had damaging side effects. It's overwhelming how fast cancer can kill a person. Not only physically, but every aspect of her being. Over time she became depressed, emotionally unstable, and her faith started to waver. It was a tough time for our family. At stage four, we couldn't deny the inevitable. We all knew what was coming. But that's how it is, isn't it? Even if you know what's coming, you're never really prepared for it. Not for being abandoned, not for any mishap, and certainly not death.

We lived under the same roof since I was born, and since my mom was more like a dad and not the typical knows-how-to-cook-and-smother you-with-love kind of mom, lola practically stood us our mother. She was very strict but the love I had for her could not be doused by her authoritative grandmother figure. I couldn't possibly thank her enough for everything. I wish I could have shown her more. Everyday coming home to her watching late night soap and making dinner for us, listening to my rants about school, work, life in general and all those tiny details I never get to talk about with mom. And now she's gone. I have no words for how hard it is to fathom. Sometimes, I feel like it still hasn't fully sunk in.

It's difficult to accept knowing she didn't want to go yet. Just two weeks ago, she was mumbling a prayer in her sleep, over and over, asking God to extend her life. A week later I was awoken by my cousin wailing that she couldn't wake her up. I ran to her room and immediately knew she had been taken away at first glance. But mom nor anyone else was emotionally stable enough to make sure. I had to climb in bed beside her, check her wrist and every part of her that had a pulse, until I had to unclench her nearly frozen wrist and weep over her lifeless body.

Lola, you fought well. It is painful but we are partly relieved that your suffering has ended. The battle is over and you may rest now. 

You are now with Our Father. 

You are in a better place. 

You are home.