Anton's and Mama's Bumblebee Playlist

Music had been an integral part of my relationship with my son. I had always enjoyed listening to music, but, when my son came along, I learned that it was also a useful tool for calming kids and an effective mode of communication.

As a toddler, my son was a jumping jelly bean and it was a challenge to dial down the energy enough to get him to sleep.  It got frustrating at times, but I found some techniques that worked like magic.

Option 1 

1. Hug him close to my heart 
2. Slow down my breathing  
3. Play "Always" by Plumb or Kenny G
4. Wait for the telltale jerk
5. Lay him down on the bed

Option 2

1. Ask him to lay down on his bed beside me
2. Read a book or have a quiet pillow talk while looking at glow-in-the-dark stars
3. Give him a baby massage (I used J&J's lavender bedtime oil) 
4. Wait for the telltale jerk
5. Quietly get out of his bed

Later on, he would get diagnosed with ADHD (and much later with Aspergers) and I would find out that my techniques (as with the academic and social teaching techniques I used) were most suitable for kids with ADHD or in the spectrum.  (The therapist even asked why I did not pursue Child Development.  I thought it was an odd comment, since it felt more like just a Mom understanding her child's needs).  She said, that I should continue leveraging on music as a means to help him cope.  Thus, it became integral to our daily life, bonding us (and sometimes dividing us:  Ed Sheeran vs. John Mayer for best guitarist) and bridging us.

I created playlists for him on my iPod (not everything I listened to is kid friendly). And, when he learned to bathe himself, he would even listen to it while taking a shower.  

When he was old enough, I installed Spotify on his assigned mobile device, and he started creating his own playlists. During drives, we would take turns listening to each other's playlists.  He shared music he discovered through his friends and I would school him on classics and music I grew up with.  

A few months after he passed, I discovered probably the last playlist he created, "Anton's BEST HITS 2020" and was happy to find some songs I shared with him, including Ne-Yo's "So Sick" and Aqua's "Turn Back Time".

So, it is no surprise that during the past months, whenever I am at my lowest, bawling my eyes out while grief journaling, the perfect song came on -- addressing my sentiments at the moment. It felt like my son was talking to me. At first, I thought, maybe I'm reading too much into it.  Maybe it's just coincidence ... but I don't believe in coincidences. 

Then, I saw this while I was scrolling through my Instagram feed. 

Just before we laid him on his final resting place, I remember telling him, "You need to guide me now.  Give me neon signs, okay?  You know how slow I get sometimes".  In true Anton form, he gave me, quite literally, a neon sign.

From then on, I took note of them and "processed" the songs in my journal.  But it was only in January that I got the idea to collect them into a playlist:  Anton's and Mama's Bumblebee Playlist (Hint:  Transformers).

It's a good sized playlist now and I will be sharing some of them in my "Bumblebee Playlist" series.  They helped me.  Maybe it would help you in some form, too.

I Am Sad Mad

     For Anton's first birthday in heaven, I took a week off from work.  I did not have anything specific planned out. Afterall, there really isn't much of a choice given the COVID restrictions.  On the evening of Day 2, I decided to watch Home.  I vaguely remember it being a silly movie that Anton and I enjoyed.  It was going really well until this scene.

    In the scene Oh was trying to figure out Tip's reaction; why she was mad at him for leaving her alone for a long time. He concludes that she is sad mad. Her anger is stemming from her sadness.  I recalled explaining to Anton when he was younger how, oftentimes, people get angry because they are hurt. And the people who can hurt us the most are people we love.  So, whenever I get mad, it is normally because someone I love did something to break my heart.  And because I love him the most, no one could hurt me more than him.  I realize, it might be too much to put on a little kid, but this started his habit of checking, "Is it a good day, Mom?  Do you have a happy heart?"

    The flood gates opened. I was full-scale MTV-video levels crying-while-hugging-pillow-in-bed.

    Even after the movie finished, I was still bawling. When I realized the tears won't stop anytime soon, I decided to pray; maybe to Jesus.  I don't even recall what exactly I prayed for.  All I can remember is that I kept telling Him, "I am in so much pain".  

    And in the darkness, as I cried, a visual came to my head of a big man holding me.  I thought it was Jesus, but it was not the usual image I see during contemplative prayers.  He was not holding me the same way and the syntax of what He said did not feel like Jesus.  He held me gently yet firmly and said, "Go on. Lay it all on Me. Blame Me."  

    As I broke down all the more, burying my face deeper into His embrace, He said, "Oh, child!  It is not your fault!" (It was God the Father holding me!)

    Then I thought back to earlier this evening. My heart broke for G when her friend did not show up for afternoon walk.  I knew she would inevitably bump into her friend again around the village, but I also knew how painful it was because she had expected him to be there. But he wasn't.  At that moment, I just hugged her because I knew nothing I said would really make her feel better.  She ran back inside the house sad-mad.

    I am sad-mad because I expected my son in my future. But he is no longer here. I am sad-mad because I did not get to save my son from his final sufferings.

    After I had calmed down, I listened to The Catholic Daily Reflections for May 21st.  It was just the balm I needed.  And I knew the reflection was exactly what God the Father wanted to tell me.

    It talked about how, in Jesus's conversation with Peter (where He asked if Peter loved Him 3x), He also knew how Peter would eventually die -- and how He approved of Peter's ultimate act of love for Him.  He is not happy that Peter is suffering, but He is happy that Peter is offering his suffering as an act of love for Jesus.  There is a greater good in it.  

    I should not focus on a small detail, but see The Big Picture.  During those final hours my son suffered gracefully, in absolute faith and hope in God.  He suffered lovingly and prayed earnestly, putting his trust in Jesus, Mary, Joseph ... and San Raphael, "Mom, I also prayed to San Raphael to heal my tummy."

    I broke down once more.  But, this time, it was out of comfort, relief and gratefulness ... and a little bit of #ProudMom moment.

    My thought echoed St. Elizabeth's, "Who am I that God the Father should come and comfort me?"

    "Why do you think I am here at this hour?  Because I knew you would come.  I came just for you [because I love you]." (From The Chosen, when Jesus came by the well to see the Samaritan woman).

Poetic Doses: His 1st Angelversary

 I see echoes
Always echoes
Reverberating
Back and forth
In small moments
Magnifying
Pulsing
And then bursting.

***

ISANG TAON

(ONE YEAR)

Isang taon.

Takot tumigil

(afraid to stop)
Kailangan magtrabaho

(I need to work)
Kahit ano.

(anything)

Katahimika'y kaaway

(silence is the enemy)
Ng isipang pasaway

(of the stubborn mind)
At pusong nalulumbay.

(and the lonely heart)

Isang taon.

Sakit na di nagbabago

(pain that is unchanging)

Pangungulilang di naiibsan

(longing that does not diminish)

Katahimikang sumisigaw

(silence that screams)

Nagsusumamo pusong pagal

(a weary heart pleading)

Patuloy na lumulutang

(endlessly floating)

Sa gitna ng kawalan.

(in a vast void)

Isang taon.

Ayaw umusad

(I don't want to move forward)

Di kaya

(I can't)

Ngunit kailangan

(but I need to)

Paano na

(how)

Saan pa paroroon

(where will I go)

Ngayong wala ka na?

(now that you're gone?)

***

Love surrounds me.

Yet, each night - just before dawn, 

I surrender to half-healed wounds

peeling back open

into another layer

of deeper fresh wounds.

Holy Thursday: Passing Over To Self-sacrificing Love

    During our orientation meeting, Ate Aidah told me to tell God my intention/s or my question/s for the Holy Week Retreat.  She warned that I might not get the answer during the retreat itself, but I have to be open to journey with Jesus towards it.

    I had one question and intention:  Is my son home with You?  If not, then please bring him safely home soon.

    I started to go through the prepared readings for Holy Thursday reflection.  The first one I read was the Psalms -- Psalms 116: 12-13, 15-16, 17-18.  Verses 15-16 was 💗

"How painful it is to the Lord when one of His people dies!  I am Your servant, Lord; I serve You just as my mother did.  You have saved me from death."

I started crying as I read it and all I could utter was, "Thank You!"  

Then, when I looked for one of the passages for reflection: 2 Cor 5:21, I found one of Anton's highlighted passages: 2 Cor 6:2 - the one that assured me a couple of months from his passing.

"Hear what God says:  When the time came for Me to show you favor, I heard you;  When the day arrived for Me to save you, I helped you.  Listen!  This is the hour to receive God's favor; today is the day to be saved!"

    Of course, I cried buckets once again.  God (and my son) really knows. He knew I would overanalyze the first passage and, so, He reinforced it.  All I could say was, "Ok, ok ... I heard You!  I got it now. I'm sorry I doubted."

    Now that we have that anecdote out of the way, let's get down to the business of Holy Thursday.  I did not know where to begin reflecting on the theme:  Passing Over to Self-sacrificing Love, so I took it a reading at a time.

Reflecting on John 13:1-15

"Jesus knew that the hour had come for Him to leave this world and go to the Father.  He had always loved those in the world who were His own, and He loved them to the very end."

    It may be too presumptuous to compare Jesus's final days with Anton's, but this was the exact disposition Anton had during his final days.  It was as if he knew he was leaving; and he loved us - me, especially - to the very end.

    A few weeks before his passing, he started teaching little G how to wake me up before lunch time.  She had to knock quietly and kiss me softly. I heard him coaching her right outside the door.  Back then, I thought it was amusing.  I didn't know that he was making sure I did not wake up alone.  He also started giving her and little P his most treasured toys.  A few days after he passed, I saw his favorite stuffed dog toy, Buddy, on my bed. Seeing my pained surprised look, G said, "Kuya gave Buddy to me, Ninang.  I think you need him more now." The Harry Potter wand he made and his treasured Star Wars lightsaber from Tita Janice were also handed over to his little cousins.

    After we laid him to his final resting place, our cook (with whom he was always annoyed because "she is not following Lolo's instructions" to the letter) told me how, during his final months, he made an effort to be kinder and more patient with her.  He cheerfully greeted her every morning, asked how she was and genuinely listened.  For that, she said, she was grateful.

"... He knew that He had come from God and was going to God."

    The doctors said that, normally, the pain from his illness (when it does manifest) is unbearable.  But on his final day, he bore his pain with so much grace and trust in God and Mama Mary.  Unable to join for Mass, he went down and asked for his Lolo to pray over him.

"You do not understand now what I am doing, but you will understand later."

Hindi ko talaga maintindihan (I truly do not understand).  And, even though I know that God has His reasons, it is still excruciatingly painful.  Even with the reassurances, the pain is soul-deep.  Matindi ang pangungulila (There is a terrible longing amidst the loneliness).  Even though I feel Anton's presence and feel him speaking to my heart, I still miss him so much.  My heart aches immensely for my son.  He is my life.  To say that I had been dying since he left is not an understatement.  I don't think I will ever feel whole again.  I don't know how.  I am in pain; my soul is anguished.

♫ Nagmula sa Iyo ang lahat ng ito.  Muli kong handog sa Iyo.🎝
(All these came from You; I offer back to You)

    Ate Aidah said, I give it back to God -- not to take from me, but to hold, manage and take hold FOR me.  Pero ang hirap! (But it's so hard!).  How does one reconcile this parting as merely God taking hold of this soul that I love the most?  

    I didn't fully understand what Ate Aidah was trying to convey until I had a merienda date with my Mom a few weeks ago.  She said, "Jesus and Mama Mary took him home because they want to keep him safe from future pain and heartache."  My son, being the most honest and innocent person I know, is very gullible, making him vulnerable to people who might take advantage of him.  He trusts people he loves ... to a fault.  I used to worry about him falling into bad company, so I would pound on him the things to look out for:  red flags to be wary about.  He half-listened, believing himself an excellent judge of character.

Contemplating Christ's Agony in Gethsemane

    Luke 22:39-46.  I read the passage and wondered how Jesus's prayer went; how the conversation between Father and Son went; and then the instrumental version of ♬Paghahandog ng Sarili♬ (Offering of Oneself) started playing.  I had come to attribute it to the ultimate "sacrifice" God had asked of me: to part with my son.  But going through the lyrics now, I realized, this must have been the theme of Jesus's conversation with the Father.  "Father, if You will, take this cup of suffering away from Me.  Not My will, however, but Your will be done."

    Mark 14:32-42. "Father, my Father!  All things are possible for You.  Take this cup of suffering from Me. Yet not what I want, but what You want."  It is true.  All things are possible with God.  It is also true that He knows everything.  He knows how the story will unfold.  He knows how something painful can propel us towards the right direction.  We only need to trust and follow.

    Matthew 26:36-46.  "Keep watch and pray that you will not fall into temptation.  The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." Jesus checked in on the apostles 3x and found them sleeping.  This meant that He knew the weakness of the human nature, but reminded the apostles that the way to combat it is through prayer.  It is a daily conscious decision to keep trusting in the story that God has laid out for me.  It is so easy to focus on the pain and spiral into the blackhole of despair.  In the months that followed his passing, I remember how during a grief journal session, I "heard" Anton say, "Keep praying, Mom." During those months, I prayed the rosary by rote  and not by heart (if only to satisfy my insistent son's voice in my heart); but it kept me afloat.

    Bringing together all the readings, I understand that, in everything He did, Jesus had one motivation:  Love.  It is this Love, both for God the Father and humanity, that drove Him ultimately to obedience to the point of self-sacrifice. What gave Him strength to soldier through it is His faith in God the Father's Will.  

    I am going through the darkest phase of my life.  And, while this sacrifice is far from voluntary, I have to soldier through in faith, that God knows how the story ends and has the power to turn this pain into something beautiful; to magnify and multiply my love for my son into expressions of the Father's Love. 

    This brings me to one of the songs that played during my reflection time:  ♬Maging Akin Muli♬ (Be Mine Once More).  In order for God to work His "magic", I need to accept His invitation to "Be Mine Once More" and surrender.

Borrowed from the internet

Poetic Doses: M7 Till His Birthday

From this day forward

And always

Even days of drunken laughter

Shall be spiked

With salt-infused water.

And there is ever only you

The star that is my Sun

Amidst this terrible darkness

Your light throbs to spark Life

The stardust you sprinkled

Faith, Hope and Love

Softly settling in hearts you touched.

Painting by Tat 

I wake up to dusk

Melancholy claims me

As daylight fades into darkness.

I curl up in its embrace

Not wanting to get up

Safe in the cocoon of my sadness.

Then I hear a distant bell ringing

Time for family Mass

Time to go back to the living.

Painting by Ina Nolasco

There are moments of unraveling

Of breakdown

And moments of epiphany.

Then there are moments of anchoring

Of breathing

And a single moment of coming Home.

For the briefest moment I was alive;

And for that I am grateful.

A Mother's Grief

 

Grief is such a lonely journey.

 It's like those nights when I cannot sleep. Just when I thought I had fallen asleep, my consciousness comes alive; and I realize that I hadn't been sleeping -- just floating in a blackhole of mindless wakefulness.

That's how some days feel ... as if I am finally moving forward, finally getting acquainted and used to the weight of grief constantly pressing against my heart.

 Then I get jolted into consciousness and realize I'm still here, where he left me.  And I can't breathe from the onslaught of salt infused rain pouring from this limitless storm cloud inside me.

There is no rhyme nor reason, no logical triggers; no negative self-talk.  It just is.  And it screams.  No.  It wails to be heard, although it has no words.

There is no pain, like a mother's grief.

Art by:  Ina Nolasco

Poetic Doses: Month 2 Till The 1st Christmas Without My Rainbow Prince

Art by: Louie Artista

i'm still here

i'm still here

where you left me

where the sun refuses to shine

and the air is scarce;

where the pain is all mine

and wounds don't turn into scars.

i'm still here

i'm still here

waiting

broken

barely breathing

where you left me

where you can never come back.

***

La Nina

Days soaking in rain from

My inexhaustible raincloud heart

There is no reprieve for

My bleeding soul

I will walk through

A lifetime of La Nina

Until my feet takes me

Towards your voice

   finally calling me home.

***

I am

floating in a sunless universe.

***

Moon Rising

Slowly rising above the dark clouds

Upon this sliver of light that is only you.

***

She woke up,

gasping for breath;

And, yet,

she was never asleep.

No.  There is no waking from this dream.

***

(My version of "Asleep In My Heart")

If I could have but one more day,

we'd walk again our favorite way,

Mom and son together as before,

eating out, watching movies and more.

No pillows to throw, no plate to fill,

your artworks unfinished, your books lay still,

no welcome kiss and hug, no peaceful snore,

an empty trandel bed upon the floor.

If I could hold you once again,

I'd kiss your head, I'd call your name,

I'd whisper gently as we part,

You're safe, asleep within my heart. 

***

Here

In the most secret chamber of my heart

Where darkness surrounds

My barely breathing light

I cry out to You

to Your humanity

In love anguished;

a heart heavy with loss

I cry out to You

to Your divinity

In faith tormented;

a soul lost to wandering

Here

In the most secret chamber of my heart,

Where darkness trembles

For You to set me back on fire.

I wait for You.

***

You breathed life to my heart

and gave it wings.

It soared.

Then it plummeted, crashing,

the day your soul took flight.

***

... It could have eaten other gods.

Instead it ate my Sun.

And thoughtfully left behind a gift.

I carry it with me everywhere and always.

Grief.

***

My soul is bleeding in parts I never knew existed.

(I was going to give this boy all of me, down to my very stump)

***

Tonight I went through the walls of my room;

Everything he owned, used, touched, held, made;

All the mess;

All the things that screamed, 

" I was here!"

I touched all of them,

Feeling as though I was grasping sand;

And I had to comfort myself, repeating,

"It was real.  He was here.

And he loved you."

***

When the flurry of the 1st Christmas settled to silence,

Grief spilled over.

I walk the corridors of my heart

I hear the loud echoing emptiness

There is nothing here, it screams

Not even a whisper --- of you.

*

Do not be silent nor turn away.

Talk about him.

I want you to remember with me.

It's my only proof

that it wasn't all just a dream.

*

Everyone goes on living,

While I keep dying inside.

*

You were oxygen to my heart

Water for my parched soul

Now, I can't breathe!

*

Outside my window,

a sliver of light

As I rock myself 

to the rhythm of my sobs

Praying for sleep.

Art by:  Louie Artista

What "Fox And The Whale" Means To Me

For the past months sleep has been coming much later than usual.  I do not know if it is a sort of coping mechanism, but there are days I find myself wide awake till 5 am.  

Bedtime had always been a sacred time for me and Anton.  When he was smaller, it was time for bedtime stories.  When he got a little bit older, it was time for Anton's stories.  The past few years, when I would come home really late from work or from business trips, bedtime meant a quick squeeze hug or kiss and his usual, "How was your day, Mom?", always said with his signature sleepy smile. There was comfort and security in coming home to him, even on nights he was fast asleep as I stumbled into our room.

Since he passed, bedtimes have been the most difficult time of the day, when I lay down my defenses and floodgates release the currents kept at bay the entire day.  Sometimes I would do my evening yoga.  Sometimes I watched something on Netflix or YouTube.

Early yesterday morning I chanced upon  "Fox and the Whale" on YouTube.  From the very beginning, the short film struck me as hauntingly poignant.  The texture and contrast of the imagery and animation was perfectly complemented by raw nature sounds and emotional music. Watching it, I finally realized what lies at the core of my pain. 

Each day I go through the motions of the living, diligently (sometimes deliriously; sometimes thoughtlessly) fulfilling my tasks and responsibilities.  Yet, just like the fox who sees the whale's tail everywhere he goes, I see Anton in everything --- a piece of paper, a random song or phrase, his favorite (or dreaded) food. As the fox finds himself coming back to the shore everyday, I find myself constantly aching, yearning and searching for that anchoring feeling of HOME.  And I don't know if I will ever find it again.

I am unmoored.

Chancing upon a whale tooth, the fox uses it to find the whale. But what he finds is the remains of a whale long gone. The fox is faced with the reality of letting go. He takes one final glance and heads back out, the sea calm and the sky clear.

Every night I have to wrestle between acknowledging the yearning and guiding myself towards acceptance that I will no longer have those pillow talks or the squeeze hugs and that beautiful beautiful smile.  Unlike the fox, though, whose search closes as he leaves the whale's graveyard, my days are much like this short film --- in loop.

Anton was my home, and, though I try to find meaning in the remaining days God has gifted me with, these days sometimes feel more like purgatory.

I know, someday, when my heart is ready and no longer heavy, I will go out towards the clear blue sea and sky. I will find strength knowing I carry him with me wherever I go.  But, until then, I am a fox haunted by a whale's magnificent tail (or a Little Prince's quirky laughter).

   

To Love In Anton's Fashion

One of the things Anton and I shared in common was our love for music (Again, NO.  It doesn't mean that I can sing like any normal Filipino. That Filipino gene skipped me).  And, through the years, it has been our special medium of communication.

Today, I woke up earlier than usual and prepared for the special Mass we organized with his closest family and friends. Schuyler Fisk's Fall Apart Today started playing.  I was singing along to it until I realized the significance of the song.

 Fall Apart Today

I don't want us to fall apart today or ever
You're the one who said you'd never leave

There's no good reasons for giving up
All this mess is just bad luck
So please don't lose your confidence in me

I wish I wasn't so fragile
'Cause I know that I'm not easy to handle

Baby please
Don't forget you love me
Don't forget you love me today

Oh my baby please
Don't forget you love me
Don't forget you love me today

I don't wanna feel like this
But I'm so tired of missing you

I don't wanna beg for your time
I want you mine, all mine

I wish I wasn't so fragile
'Cause I know that I'm not easy to handle

Baby please
Don't forget you love me
Don't forget you love me today

I first heard this song around the time Anton got diagnosed with ADHD and it was particularly difficult managing his issues at the big school we enrolled him in.  It is a traditional Catholic school and, while my almost-weekly meetings with his teachers helped the younger teachers handle him better, was just not equipped to manage kids with special needs.  He was seeing the toll on me whenever I came back from business trips and received "love" letters from his teachers.  The kid can read me (especially my frustration) like an open book and he felt it was his fault.  The song felt like him singing to me and was actually the song that made me decide to homeschool him.

I don't know when exactly, but there was a time when this song came on while we were in the car and he said he liked it.  I told him the meaning of the song for me, explaining the lyrics --- because he is more drawn to the melody than the lyrics. He paused and gave it a thought before saying, "Awwww, Mom.  I love you, too!" 

So ... when it hit me, I naturally started bawling and whispered, "I love you, too!"  

In today's Mass, Fr. Junjun Borres, SJ talked about how we are not just celebrating the Saints who have been canonized, but everyone who willed to love God above all else and willed to love the poorest. He stressed that we should not see these people as antiseptic saints. The Saints also had their own struggles and neuroses.  He went on to say that Anton, despite his challenges, embodied that kind of love.  

• He loved fully.  What he lacked in vocabulary, he more than made up in action.  His love language was service and he always went the extra mile; sometimes too far 😅.  
• He loved blindly.  Anyone who was ever loved by Anton will know that he has the tendency not to see his loved ones' faults.  It also means that he will, literally, stand up and fight for anyone he loves - regardless if their wrong or right.  This is how he got into trouble with Lolo.  Whenever my Papa reprimanded me during meal times, he would speak up (deemed as talking back; thus, disrespectful) on my behalf.  I would give him "the look" to shush him and he would start to say, "But, Mom ...!" 
• He loved bravely and persistently.  Even if it is unrequited or outright rejected.  I was teaching Anton to be discriminating about people he will love.  Afterall, not everyone has good intentions.  "You need to protect your heart from getting hurt," I told him.  To which he retorted, "But why, Mom?  Just love, right?"  It was the only lesson I taught him that he outright rejected.   A friend remarked, "We were all like that at one point in our lives. Kids really shouldn't listen to us."  It is a lesson I am finding hard to relearn but trying.  Love for the sake of loving.  Isn't that the  point of the Gospels?

The same friend (above) shared this beautiful song by Tracy Chapman The Promise.

The Promise

If you wait for me
Then I'll come for you
Although I've traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart

If you think of me
If you miss me once in a while
Then I'll return to you
I'll return and fill that space in your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

If you dream of me
Like I dream of you
In a place that's warm and dark
In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

Oh, I've longed for you
And I have desired
To see your face, your smile
To be with you wherever you are

I believe this is his special message for me today, an affirmation of all the ways I knew he was showing me his love every single day since. Death will not be the reason for us to fall apart, but will make our bond stronger.  I keep thinking, if there is anyone who will be able to pull it off, it will definitely be Anton.  He always found creative ways in life to love, what more in the afterlife 💗

My son is a true Force of Love and I will do my best to honor him by loving in his fashion.

 

Once Upon My Dream

                                         

An hour ago, I just finished binging "Emily in Paris".  (These days I only watch romcoms or light family movies). I was past "sleepy", so I decided to do some art therapy (it's World Mental Health Day afterall).  I opened my box of art materials and put on some music.

Then Lana Del Ray's "Once Upon A Dream" started playing.  

I know you
I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you
That look in your eyes is so familiar, a gleam

And I know it's true
That visions are seldom all they seem
But if I know you, I know what you'll do
You'll love me at once
The way you did once upon a dream

Lyrics like that ... of course, it struck a cord! And it opened up the floodgates which I managed to keep shut for a week now with the help of work stress. Damn.  No turning back now.

The past 15 years definitely felt like a beautiful dream I just suddenly woke up from. Some days I feel so disoriented.  I can't tell if the past 15 years was the dream.  Or this life is.  It's so hard to believe that the past 3 months and my years with him were actually part of one life story.  Even in good days there is this terrible unshakable aching in my heart and I wonder how is it that I am still breathing.  Even with my family around me, loving me and supporting me, I feel alone and isolated.  He was mine and I was his.  Now I feel like I don't belong.  No one to call mine. 

My son loved me at once, entirely and irrevocably. Even when Monster Mom made her appearances, he would remain still through it all and then crawl right back into my arms. His affection and high regard for me never altered.  Sometimes I feel as though my son saw me through starry eyes.  I was always the best and always beautiful --- even while I laid in bed all day, crumpled with dysmenorrhea. Some people might think that he says these things just to get his way, bolero ... but it's really just how he is.  When he loves someone, he loves them despite of and inspite of. 

He shrugged off anything hurtful hurled his way.  Sometimes he didn't understand --- and I am grateful for the bliss ignorance brings.  Sometimes he did.  When he did, he felt it at his very core.  I cry with him secretly, while I put on a Tiger Mom front. I would teach him the importance of protecting himself and not allowing himself to be vulnerable to heartaches. "There will always be people who will use you and hurt you," I tell him, "Stay away from them."  But he would tell me always, "I think he/she can be a good friend, Mom."  Then, after just a couple of weeks, "I talked to him/her, Mom.  I think he/she is now a good friend."  Of course, I am skeptical.  But he truly and honestly believes that everyone can be a good friend.  He would always reach out to people, even when they are already being outright rude to him.  And he keeps trying.  I used to feel hurt for him and worry how he will survive this awful world we live in.  

A few weeks ago, I watched "The Little Prince" again on Netflix.  I realized how I probably doomed myself to losing him the minute I started referring to him as my Little Prince.  Or, perhaps, a part of me always knew that God had only lent him to me.  Whatever it is, I found so much parallelism between the story and my life with him.  

Once upon my dream, I walked with my Little Prince.  I scrambled to teach him how to survive life.  But, really, he was the one who taught me (and continues to) how to live it:  fearlessly and honestly, anchored in that stubborn belief that each person is truly good inside and worth as many second chances as they need.

And, like the pilot or the fox, I only fully understood it after he was gone.

"Mom, I'm not gone.  Only different."

 

When Star Wars And Mama Mary Collide

Taken from the internet

On the day we buried my son, I found a brief moment with him before they took him to the car that transported him to his final resting place. I whispered to him, "You have to guide me now ... because I don't know what to do without you.  Give me neon signs, okay?  You know how slow and dense I can be sometimes."

So, when Star Wars and Mama Mary collide, it can only be my son's creative genius; making sure I don't miss the 4th puzzle piece.

Yesterday my 1-year old nephew decided he wanted to open Mary's Blue Book (which we read after praying the chaplet of Divine Mercy and the Holy Rosary), so my brother (his father) assisted him.  It opened to an entry entitled, "Vigilant Sentinels".  

I laughingly thought to myself, "Wow! Mama Mary likes Star Wars, too".  The first time I heard of the term, "sentinels", was during a Star Wars conversation with Anton.  He decided he was a Jedi Guardian and was debating with himself if I was a Consular or a Sentinel.  

For better context, below is Wookieepedia's definition of Jedi Sentinel:

"A Jedi Sentinel was the name given to one of the three distinct schools of thought of the Jedi that sought a balance between the two other branches, the Consulars and the Guardian. While they possessed considerable combat skills and had somewhat extensive knowledge of the Force, Sentinels blended both schools of teaching and amplified them with a series of non-Force skills, such as in the fields of security, computers, stealth techniques, demolitions, repair, or medicine."

Two paragraphs from the entry struck me:

1. "Entrust to the angels of light of my Heart all that has to do with this new itinerary of yours.  They will carry you on their wings and will keep watch lest you strike your foot against any obstacle." I resented the archangel, St. Raphael.  On the eve of his passing, Anton specifically told me, "Mom, I prayed to St. Raphael to heal me." When he died, I thought, "Where are you now, Raphael?"  Now Mama Mary was telling me to trust the angels with my "new itinerary".  That can only by St. Raphael for me; afterall, he is the patron of good travels and has been my constant active prayer partner for years.
2. "Oh, in your days, how beautiful are the feet of those who announce peace, of those who spread the good news of salvation and of the triumph of divine mercy!  You must be these announcers of peace.  You must be today vigilant sentinels upon the mountains of confidence and hope."  I immediately thought about my conversation with my son and how his final assessment was that I should be a sentinel, since I would typically go for harmony but able to fight when the situation calls for it.  I agreed, thinking I also recognize the value of non-Force skills, meaning --- I am practical and utilize available resources, like technology.

These tie in with today's readings which talked about finding God in small things and conquering fear.

1st Reading: 1 Kings 19:11-13

"Then the Lord said to him, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the Lord; the Lord will be passing by.” A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord—but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire—but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave."

These days I had been anxious for God to reveal his grand plan for me, expecting it to come in some kind of epiphany moment.  But, so far, He had been giving me bits and pieces, and I have had to "strain" to hear it.  Not to mention, be patient for the rest of the pieces!

From the Gospel:  Matthew 14:22-33

After he had fed the people, Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and precede him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. After doing so, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When it was evening he was there alone.  Meanwhile the boat, already a few miles offshore, was being tossed about by the waves, for the wind was against it. During the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them, walking on the sea.  When the disciples saw him walking on the sea they were terrified. “It is a ghost,” they said, and they cried out in fear.  At once Jesus spoke to them, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.”

When the crowd had dispersed, Jesus sought solitude by going up a mountain to allow Himself to grieve and to pray for guidance and courage.  Even Jesus had to pause and recalibrate His direction.  Losing my son felt like God just threw my plans to the wind.  I've never felt so lost and "not in control".  More than a month after, I feel as if my life's GPS lost signal and it's taking too long to recalibrate.  A part of me thinks that once I know what the plan is, then, somehow, this terrible aching will subside. 

But losing someone you love feels like sitting in a boat rocked by storms. It is difficult to find God and hear His voice amidst the pounding of your heart and the silent screams.  I have not not fully paused nor truly opened myself up to His guidance.  But today, I realized that the ghost I feared is actually Him reaching out to me and asking me to walk with Him and Mama Mary as a vigilant sentinel.

No, I haven't quite figured out the entire plan yet.  But I've got 4 pieces of the puzzle and it's slowly taking shape.

1. In my blog Mary's Tapestry Of Love, she said that something good will come from this.
2. In Wisdom For A Grieving Heart, I was reminded by FB Memories (no less!), that there is a plan and that I won't miss it.  (When I read it, I whispered to my son, "Make sure I don't miss it!".  Afterall, Fr. Junjun said, Anton is now a strong Advocate for everyone he loves.  His friends think he probably asked God to send us an army of angels each to keep us all straight. I wouldn't put it past him ... Haha!).  Then I learned about the best tool from Bishop Ambo's homily the previous week:  Wisdom of the Heart - to help me discern God's plans for me; sort through the good and the bad; sort through the old and the new.
3. In The 3rd Puzzle Piece: Teach Me To Be Generous, I realized how generous God has been to me and I am called to live my life the same way, generously.

The 3rd Puzzle Piece: Teach Me To Be Generous

The 3rd Puzzle Piece

Last Saturday I was telling my sister, "I know all will be revealed in due time, but it would help if He gave me a tiny clue, at least; give me something to hold on to."  The clue came quickly through a part of last Sunday's Gospel:

"When Jesus heard of John the Baptist, He withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself.  The crowds heard of this and followed him on foot from their towns.  When He disembarked and saw the vast crowd, His heart was moved with pity for them, and He cured their sick." (Matthew 14:13-14)

I perked up when I heard the first line. Of course, Jesus wanted to grieve his cousin's death!  The way Bishop Ambo highlighted this and Jesus' response in his homily resonated with me.

"Remember that this began with the beheading of John the Baptist. Jesus heard that John the Baptist had been martyred.  He was beheaded.  And He wanted to grieve, but there was no time to grieve because so many people needed His attention. So instead of withdrawing into solitude, He served them generously." 

"... He [Jesus] would offer Himself as the broken Bread of Life; as a Body broken for broken people. Brothers and Sisters, we cannot call ourselves Christians if we do not allow Jesus to mentor us in the secret of multiplication." (Bishop Ambo)

I remembered a line I read in Cheri Roberto's book, "From Mourning to Morning": "Wow, God really doesn't waste your pain," Anna, when she heard that Cheri was called to establish the Grief Support group for The Feast, Alabang; when she became a broken healer.  God took what little she could offer, a bottle of tears (this is the title of a song my son had started to write which was sort of mentioned in the same book as a quote of Psalm 56:8), prayed over it and multiplied it as healing balm for other grieving hearts.

"Faith begins with the discovery of how generous our God is to us; and how He also teaches us to live our lives generously" (Bishop Ambo)

For days after my son died, I felt hurt and betrayed by God and Mama Mary.  Then I found a strip of paper with my son's notes.  In it he detailed how wonderful I was, enumerating my best qualities; and one line which said "I am God's greatest gift to her", something I used to tell him often, along with "You top my 'thank you' list."  I realized how generous God had been for giving me Anton in the first place.  

"... The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised." (Job 1:21)

Now, He is asking the same from me by living the rest of my life generously ... in honor of my son.  Afterall ...

"God sends His grace through the cracks of your broken heart." (Arun Gogna)

"You may no longer be able to hold the one who has gone, but you hold them in your heart and you continue to love them in a different way --- by channeling that love into acts of service for other people." (Mitch Albom)

Prayer for Generosity

(By St. Ignatius De Loyola whose feast coincided with Anton's 40th Day)

Dearest Lord, 

Teach me to be generous.
Teach me to serve you as I should;
to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and not to seek for rest,
to labor and not to ask for reward,
save that of knowing that I do your will.

The Other Half Of It

Today, I had a Zoom meeting with some of Anton's closest friends from CLP to talk about our latest favorite movie, "The Half Of It".  (We had fun, but that's a different story). So, last night, I decided to watch it again, to refresh my memory on the specific scenes that Anton and I talked about.

Of course, I cried ... because I remembered the warm fuzzy feeling of sharing such a special time with my son, just the two of us in my room, talking till the wee hours of the morning.  I remember being in awe at how grown-up he suddenly was, wondering how the tiny snip of a man who stole my heart had grown into this beautiful human.

And I cried ... because I now understand why my favorite relationship was that of Paul's and Ellie's.  I realized the dynamics of their friendship was similar to the one I have with my son.  

Paul was this simple pure soul who saw the world as it is and humans as they are, without judgement.  He is governed by his heart and gives his 200% in everything he does, especially in loving.  And he gets so focused on the object of his affection that he tends to be oblivious to everything else.  He decides on something and goes for it without much thought or consideration ... as long as it feels right.  He is not very articulate, but he is attentive.

That is my Anton.

Ellie, on the other hand, is so focused on being grown-up.  Responsibilities is king.  She thrives on routine which gives her a feeling of being in control of her situation.  She is strong and independent, taking care of her father and covering for his responsibilities.  Her life revolved around the care of her father, making decisions based on what is most practical for both of them.

That is me, except my life revolved around Anton.

When Paul decided he wanted to pursue Aster, Ellie thought it was a long shot. She coached and mentored him, giving him pointers on what to talk about with Aster, complete with tips and tricks on Italian and French names.  She even jumped in to save him by texting Aster when she felt he was about to crash and burn.

As my son was in the spectrum, he struggled with social cues and cognition.  There were times he would not understand the context of the discussion, missing the point or missing the joke entirely.  Thus, he is unable to follow and would try to save face by mimicking everyone's reaction or just grinning or laughing.  

When he reached puberty, I knew I had to stop homeschooling him and enroll him into a school that meets his needs. Not just because the subjects are beyond my brain power, but, more importantly, because his personality craves for interaction.  And I recognize how critical it is to build meaningful relationships with peers at this stage in his life.

So, after searching high and low, we finally found the right school:  Creative Learning Paths.  It is a Peace school with a low teacher-student ratio, integrates neurotypical and neuroatypical kids, and partners with our therapy center (CANDENT).

The first few months, I talked to him daily about his interactions with friends.  I explained to him the context and gave him insights on the conversations he had.  And the minute that I spot someone taking advantage of my son's eagerness to make friends, I get on a phone call with his homeroom teacher and in-house therapist.

Then he started making more friends, and he didn't tell me about all of his conversations anymore.  He was getting adjusted and was having fun.  Sometimes too much fun, that I got "love" letters from his homeroom teachers.  But that's normal.  And, when I met his friends in some of the school events, I thought the kid's fine. 

Just as Paul did fine, when he decided to take the leap and make his move --- without Ellie's blessings.

The trouble was, Anton wanted to fit in so much that he started acting like everyone else, suddenly "liking" things that he used to roll his eyes over.  He did not have his own opinion.  He followed what everybody else thought was cool ... or right.

"I'm like a lot of people, which kind of makes me no one." (Aster)

I talked to him about it, challenging the new hype he gets into. "Do you really like this or that?  Why?  What do you like about it? What do you REALLY like?"  

I remember him talking about the "freedom to be who I am".  "But who are YOU?", I countered, "You need to figure that out first before you can be 'who you are'."  I told him how everyone is in a journey of self-discovery.  No one has everything figured out, especially not at his age.  But he needs to decide for himself what he believes in and stands for.  He should not allow others to pressure him.  There is no shame in being different as long as you are being authentic. 

And, I believe, that is exactly what he strived to be:  authentic ... and loving, in his own fashion.

"The good thing about being different is no one expects you to be like them." (Ellie)

By the end of the movie, Paul's simplistic view of life and love expands.

"I always thought there was the one right way to love.  But there are so many more ways than I knew.  I never want to be the guy who stops loving someone for the way that they love." (Paul)

While Ellie learns that it is okay to take risks, to allow herself to love (and be loved) and to go for her dreams --- even if it gets messy and uncontrollable sometimes; even if it is unsafe or impractical for the people she loves.

"Love isn't patient and kind and humble.  Love is messy and horrible and selfish and bold.  It's not finding your perfect half - it's the trying and reaching and failing."

"Love is being willing to ruin your good painting for the chance at a great one."  (Ellie)

I made it my life goal to rear Anton into a good and positive member of society, a dancer of life and a mover of mountains.  In the process of guiding, teaching and coaching (also, ordering around) Anton how to maneuver through life, I learned that loving is about trusting, taking risks ... and letting go.

That is why Paul's and Ellie's friendship was my favorite in the movie --- because, although they couldn't be more different, they found their person in each other.  They took the time to know, understand and accept each other, finding and nurturing that special connection.  They both matured exponentially as they found the courage to take risks and support each other.  Their relationship was built on and grew with their faith on each other ... and love, in its purest form.

This sums up my life (and afterlife) with Anton.

Anton lounging on my bed after we discussed the movie,
pretending he doesn't know I'm taking a photo. Hahaha!

Joy of Swimming Alone

I used to write down conversations with A when he was younger. They either cracked me up or touched my heart.

This was a conversation with 6-year old A (December 23, 2011) that has taken on a new meaning ...

A: Mom, did you swim in Vietnam after work?

Me: No. I didn't have time, plus I want to swim with you.

A: But you should swim by yourself, Mom. In Palawan I swimmed (swam) by myself and I'm still happy. You will be happy, too.

(From my #Antonisms archives)