My Photo

March 2008

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
            1
2 3 4 5 6 7 8
9 10 11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20 21 22
23 24 25 26 27 28 29
30 31          
Powered by Friendster Blogs
Member since 05/2005

Saturday, September 09, 2006

A part of me that is you

(For Aurora Villamiel Tierra-Cardenas on her fifth month of joining God and on what could have been her 63rd year: September 20, 1943  -  April 10, 2006)

Which part of me is you?

Is it my eyes? My nose? My lips?

Definitely not my forehead

I got it from dad

Is it my forgiving nature?

Is it my gentleness?

Is it every drop of tear that I shed each time?

Is it my voice?

Is it my gift of words?

From the mirror I see

An image that was once you with me... ='(

___________________________________________________________

I miss you mom. So much. The house is desolate. It's quiet. And I'm alone and empty.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Un bon homme

Chère maman :

J'ai vu la Lorie Grace aujourd'hui au SM. Elle était avec son papa et son mari. Son papa m'a dit qu'elle a épousé un bon homme et je conviens.

Je pense vous savez que je suis envieux d'elle. Elle a trouvé un bon homme qui l'aime et l'adore. Quand vous étiez encore vivant, vous m'aidiez priez pour mes problèmes. Svp aidez-moi à prier pour qu'un bon homme vienne à ma rencontre, aussi.

Je t'aime. Je m'ennuie de toi.

Votre fille,

Precious

_____________

Pardon my "barok" French. I am trying my best to learn it. Hehe.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Feeling the loss...

Countdown to my 22nd birthday: two days, 21 hours, 59 minutes...

Days hence since my dad and I lost mom: 96 days...

On the 19th would be my first birthday that I have to spend without my mom. I guess this year would surely be one with the many firsts... It surely is a diff one especially if it's your first time to lose somebody significant in your life.

The past two days I've been asking dad to recall how it was almost 22 years ago when he brought my mom to the hospital originally for the purpose of her seventh month of check-up. I have also been cheerfully chiding my dad and kidding him that mom sure must had been constantly mad at him during her craving days as many people who see the two of us together often always testify that it couldn't be denied that I am indeed my dad's daughter, a father's girl for whatever it means.

Mom, I miss you. I'm feeling the loss. I've been trying to cheer myself up for dad and for the fact that I should move on. I surely couldn't keep you up there still feeling sad for me when you should be finally enjoying yourself. You know mom, my bestfriend, Valine, and a new friend's mom both told me that I really didn't lose you; that I instead gained an angel, another angel apart from the one you were telling me as my guardian angel.

But still I couldn't help it... I really miss you. It's hard to know that after I log out and leave the internet cafe, I would be going to an empty, desolate house  -  without a warm, welcoming smile and a cheerful voice to come home to...

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Too afraid of being too independent

For years I've struggled in proving to people that I was not the typical only child; that I was independent, smart and definitely not a spoiled brat.

Having officemate Pat asking me yesterday who I was closer to, my mom or my dad, really made me think. Well actually people have been asking me who I was closer to and frankly I don't want to choose regardless of the fact that it couldn't be denied that physically, I am indeed my father's daughter. The subject just touches too much of the issue that I haven't really maximized the brief time I was able to spend with my mom.

Then again what could I possibly do? Now I only have my dad left and the more he says that he's there to encourage and help me become independent in order to achieve all my dreams, the more I honestly feel miserable.

And then all I want to do is to just cut him some slack. It still breaks me recalling hear him say that he personally doesn't want me to leave for another country as there's only the two of us left. Then again, the next minute, I'd be torn with utter contradiction when, for some spur-of-the-moment whim of mine to instead take my MBA in Australia, I'd hear from him very encouraging words.

This contradiction has been manifested countless times. For the five and a half days I spend at work, I get to only have a few hours spent at home, the most of which I allot to sleeping. He pushed me to this boarding house only, to have him, in the middle of a freak out week, call me with some excuse, however rational, to ask me to go home.

The phrase "quality family time" makes me detest the work load that I currently have knowing that I get to only spend a few hours, not even days, with my dad, when I know I should be maximizing God-knows-how-much-time-I-have-left-with-him-on-this-physical-plane.

Now it's a Sunday. I woke up before noon feeling miserable knowing that when he abruptly woke me up at dawn, I spent the rest of the time arguing with him over some "blackmailing" issues.

Later I'll be at SM Sta. Rosa, spending the rest of the afternoon with my bestfriend.

Tomorrow's a Monday. Work day. Again. And suddenly I feel too afraid of being too independent, without a care in the world, not even enough for my dad who I love the most and the only one I have left.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Birthday Gift from Mommy

Just like my previous birthdays, my birthday gift this year came in advance. It came more or less three weeks in advance in a rather big box that I never expected would come.

Daddy kept it a secret for at least a week and only had me informed at least two days before he finally purchased it.

As of this writing, my new laptop is being installed with its operating system after much begging and whining just so our trusty computer technician would give in to my requests of installing the operating system this very night. <can't wait to transfer my "blogging" to the laptop!!>

Hay mom. Thank you. You never ceased in surprising me from day one. Here you are, still taking good care of dad and me.

"Anak, the money used in purchasing this came from your Mom. I myself was very surprised upon learning about it. Sige, paholdap ka ulit ha."

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

I miss you Mom...

Can they blame me and accuse me as weak if I say I miss you so much Mommy? ='(

Monday, June 05, 2006

Love in the Time of Dementia

In loving memory of Aurora Villamiel Tierra-Cardenas (September 20, 1943  -  April 10, 2006)

______________

Just how does one accept that her parent may already need to go?

This is dedicated to my mother.

‘I still want to live’

            My mother, as an advanced-stage sufferer of dementia of the Alzheimer’s type, only cries for six known reasons  -  when she’s hungry, when she wants to see either me or my dad beside her, when she struggles to remove her diaper which she really hates, if she’s in physical pain, if she needs to respond to the call of nature,  and if something has annoyed or irritated her.

            One night however, I woke up to a very different cry. It was her fourth night in the hospital where she was rushed after being badly bruised from a fall. Thinking that it might be one of the six reasons, I checked on her underpads (we earlier decided to stop the usage of diapers), it was not wet. I peeked into her underwear, it was not soiled. I asked her if she’s hungry or in pain, she only continued crying with nary her usual nod or  “no” for a response.

            She then began calling for dad who was partly hidden from her sight. Since dad’s out of sleep and was not feeling well, I told her that dad and I were just there while caressing her arm. But she persisted in her crying so I just ignored it thinking it is ordinary for advanced-stage sufferers of her illness to act like that.

            A minute into lying down on the makeshift bed I placed beside her bed, I suddenly heard her saying some words that were too garbled to understand. From experience, if she keeps on saying some words over and over again, I must really try to listen and guess what she’s trying to say. What I heard sent chills down my spine that I knew I had to wake dad up.

            Restless in bed and saying the words “I still want to live” and pointing and looking at something, I recalled the story of our house help who said that prior to the hospital confinement, mom, who I know is not much of a believer of anything supernatural save for some creatures she often told me as the other creations of God, kept on insisting that she’s been seeing a lady in white in our kitchen which could be seen if the door to the master’s bedroom is open.

            When mom eventually calmed down after 30 minutes or so, knowing she’s scared, I asked her permission so I could sleep beside her in her bed. Before sleeping, I told her some happy stories that made her laugh. Upon knowing her nerves had already calmed down, I asked her what she saw and for a response, what she gave evoked different images that could only make me cry:

            “I saw a small star, a light.”

Aurora

            Dictionaries define the word “aurora” as the Latin word for dawn. The online encyclopedia, Wikipedia, describes it in detail as a glow observed in the night sky, usually in the polar zones which could either be known as the "aurora borealis" or the "northern lights” that often appears as a reddish glow on the northern horizon as if the sun were rising from an unusual direction, or the “aurora australis" of the southern horizon that also has similar properties.

            Astronomically speaking, an “aurora” may first appear as a faint, milky glow low in the north, too dim for the human eye to detect any color but bright enough to silhouette clouds near the horizon. Astronomy.com described it as a “ghostly glow” which is a “feast for the eyes”

            Similar to the effects these lights possess are the never-ending wonders my mother gave to me and to persons who have known her. Seemingly destined to be named after such phenomena, Aurora Villamiel Tierra-Cardenas was born on September 20, 1943 although apparently, a mistake occurred in the inputting of her birth date of which was the reason why on all of her important documents, she’s always a year younger than her actual age.

            Her sisters describe her as the most beautiful of more or less a dozen siblings who all hail from Atimonan, Quezon. Stories speak of how both her innate and physical beauty always earns her the admiration of many people. At the risk of being over the edge what with my natural bias for her as her daughter, I believe such descriptions to be true. These descriptions, however, cannot compensate the very reasons why she always stands out in everything she does.

            Career-wise, she once was a star. Many people recall her as the “Tiya Dely” of the Quezon province as for a time, she had a stint as a radio announcer (DJ) in one of the local radio stations and became famous, with a share of fans of her own, for her slow but soft, and low but sweet tone of voice that made people compare her with the famous radio personality.

            Said event in her life was just one of the many instances that made her shine and glow like an aurora until dementia closed in on her lights and eventually swallowed these like one big and strong black hole.

More Cruel Than Cancer

It was only in 2004 when mom suffered a severe stroke when her doctors discovered that she could have probably been undergoing a series of mini-strokes beforehand that caused numerous minute ruptured veins and damaged cells in her brain. Such discovery had been previously unknown to us as every time mom would have a high blood pressure or any discomfort, she would not inform us of the physical pain she was feeling. No, she never did. She never wanted us to worry.

            According to Reader’s Digest Guide to Medical Cures and Treatments, it is “a brain disorder in which memory, thought processes, and behavior become progressively impaired named for Dr. Alois Alzheimer, the German neurologist who first described it in the early 1900s.”

            Dementia.com on the other hand provides that the word “dementia” is only a general term for a condition that results to different illnesses such as Alzheimer’s.

            One could only imagine the pain that struck me and my dad upon learning only recently that from the abovementioned website that in the three stages of Alzheimer’s, mild or early stage, moderate or mid-stage and severe or late/advanced stage, mom is already in the latter stage.

            Often dismissed as a natural occurrence due to old age, dementia could be much more cruel than cancer as it could only be slowed down, not treated. I am no medical expert but who’s to say it only happens to people in their 80s or 90s? My mom, my dear, sweet and loving mom is only 62 as of this writing!

Beyond Borders

            Commitment means passion, dedication and the will to finish anything that has been started. As in the case of my mom and dad, it is love beyond affection, acceptance beyond caring.

            It took me quite a while to really accept and understand that my mom has dementia. Sadly, now that I am beginning to see how I really love and accept mom for who she was, is and will be, that I’d even have my hand with a tissue placed at the very hole of her anus just so I could fully catch her excrements and fully have her cleaned three to four times during my shift in looking after her, mom is already at the last stage.

            Two years of seeing how my dad, despite also being sick with hypertension and diabetes, managed to play his role very well as the man who stands by his wife “for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health”; two years of my mom looking older than her actual age due to dementia; two years of seeing mom mentally and quite stubbornly battle her illness that rapidly eats her physical strength because “she still wants to live” for us; two years of me loving her but not really being able to show it until recently…

            Now all I could do is stand by her and be strong as she is being strong for dad and me. All I could do is increase the faith, even go to the extent of asking Him fervently to postpone the “light” that is now fetching my mom who is the “light”, the Aurora of our family, of our home.

Friday, April 21, 2006

I miss mommy...

We often could easily tell a person who just lost a loved one that it is but natural to grieve and mourn or that it really is true that it could only be at the time of death that we feel our loved one’s worth.

Now, as I tell myself that I am allowed to grieve and mourn, I can’t remember the feeling of it being easy. There really is a world of difference between empathizing with a person who lost a loved one and being in that very situation.

Just last night, while in the midst of reeling from a combination of indigestion and headache, I, once again, shed tears, the amount of which, according to my best friend, is an addition to buckets and buckets I've shed from the time mommy got bedridden to the time she died that are more than enough to last me a lifetime and more.

But please do tell what else could I do? My cousin Grace said it right that no amount of consoling words would ever sound positive or would ever be enough to make you feel better most especially if you know what you did and didn't do that mostly contributed to the suffering of the person who loved you very, very much.

And now I know it would really take a while before I stop shedding tears over missing mommy…

It’s been almost two weeks and I am still trying to get used to the stillness of the mornings every time I force myself out of bed for work. Mommy’s last few weeks before our final rush to the hospital where she eventually succumbed to diabetic coma were spent with us hearing her usual cries/moans of either pain, hunger or loneliness. Now it is replaced by silence which is, every now and then, disturbed by the chirping of our restless pair of lovebirds. Oddly, how I long to hear those moans! Maybe because the time I spent with her every time she cries was never enough… No… It really wasn’t enough.

Sadly I always seemed to not have enough time for mommy. Every morning, as dad and I left mommy to the care of the househelp because we're off for very long and extended hours of work, we never really came to realize that with each and every single hour that the househelp spent beside her was the developing image that the househelp appeared to be more and more like her kin, and dad and I lesser and lesser like her family.

Such was the scenario I couldn't come to admit and accept that I lashed at our househelp Belen during the eve of mommy's demise. I distinctly recall that very day. Having spent a restless night at mommy's bedside, I told Belen, upon waking up at 6am, that I would just go home to sleep a bit and that after an hour or so, dad would arrive to replace her shift in looking after mom. I never thought that it would be the last morning that I would go home with mom alive.

As expected, I overslept. And so did dad as he had been restless the entire night due to the leg cramps he always experiences as a complication of his diabetes. I woke up at 10am to the smell of daddy's cooking. I remember exactly us having a sumptuous breakfast without us knowing that Belen had already been sending frantic text messages for the past 30 minutes to inform us that mommy was in a state of extreme convulsion.

To make the long story short, dad and I rushed to the hospital and encountered mommy in a calm state but with Belen in what seemed like her usual frantic and exaggerated (overacting) lack of composure so much so that it drove me to the edge. Her tone sounded like she was blaming us for not coming on time as promised.

Though I understood her position that had it not been for mommy eventually calming down, we might not have seen her alive, I couldn't help but feel that my shortcomings and inadequacy as mommy's only daughter was being rubbed on further.

The truth really does hurt, I know, especially upon recalling the numerous times that I shunned mom's presence, at times coming to the extent of driving her away for my own selfish reasons. This was considering the given fact that my work and other activities already took most of my time with her.

What also wasn’t enough were the times I spent with mommy on the phone when she could still speak or at the very least, when she could still walk over to where the phone was in our house to answer my impatient call. And during the time when she could not walk anymore, how I longed to persistently ask daddy to transfer the phone line to the master’s bedroom or to at least put up an extension so instead of just talking to caregiver, I could ask the latter to bring the phone’s earpiece nearest to mommy’s ear and have her hear that I was thinking of her and concerned about her even if in return, I wouldn’t get any distinguishable verbal response (during her bedridden days, I would call the house everyday to ask the caregiver if mommy had already eaten and if everything was fine at home; during these days also, mommy was already having a hard time speaking clearly). No I never pursued the idea. I never pestered daddy with that suggestion we’ve once optimistically discussed. I just didn’t. And now I feel the regret draining me.

Up until now I often tell people that I hold the principle “Regret is life’s greatest failure” so I always try, as much possible, to be a no holds-back person in everything that I say and do. Ironically, I was as well a no holds-back person when it came to not regretting that I was neglecting my mommy’s needs and pushing aside her concerns intended for me.

Now I’m so much longing to hear once again her sweet radio announcer-voice saying these things:

“Anak kumain ka na ba?” (Have you eaten?)

“Precious? Umiiyak ka?” (Precious? Are your crying?)

“Ano’ng oras ang uwi mo?” (What time will you be at home? ß being repeated 3xs before I leave the house and once on phone)

And later tonight upon reaching my bedroom at our desolate house, as I’m waiting for dad to arrive, I will be letting the tears flow again out of longing for somebody who, despite spending her last few months bedridden and almost unable to speak clearly, would still somehow painstakingly manage to express her concern if only to dry my tears and calm my frayed nerves with her unselfish and enduring love…

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Who I Should Have Given My Love To

From Joyce' blog... Mom could afford to see me through only up to my 21st year... I miss you mommy... ='(

_____________

Who Should I Give My Love To?

When you were 1 year old,
she
fed you
and bathed
you. You thanked her by crying all night
long.

When you were 2 years old, she taught
you to
walk. You thanked her by running away
when she
called.

When you were 3 years old, she made all
your
meals with love. You thanked her by
tossing your
plate on the floor.

When you were 4 years old, she gave you
some
crayons. You thanked her by coloring the
dining
room table.

When you were 5 years old, she dressed
you for
the holidays. You thanked her by
plopping into the
nearest pile of mud.

When you were 6 years old, she walked
you to
school. You thanked her by
screaming, "I'M NOT
GOING!"

When you were 7 years old, she bought
you a
baseball. You thanked her by throwing it
through
the next-door-neighbor's window.

When you were 8 years old, she handed
you an
ice cream. You thanked her by dripping it
all over
your lap.

When you were 9 years old, she paid for
piano
lessons. You thanked her by never even
bothering
to practice.

When you were 10 years old she drove
you all
day,
from soccer to gymnastic to one birthday
party
after another. You thanked her by
jumping out of
the car and never looking back.

When you were 11 years old, she took you
and
your friends to the movies. You thanked
her by
asking to sit in a different row.

When you were 12 years old, she warned
you not
to watch certain TV shows. You thanked
her by
waiting until she left the house.

When you were 13, she suggested a
haircut that
was becoming. You thanked her by telling
her she
had no taste.

When you were 14, she paid for a month
away at
summer camp. You thanked her by
forgetting to
write a single letter.

When you were 15, she came home from
work,
looking for a hug. You thanked her by
having your
bedroom door locked.

When you were 16, she taught you how to
drive
her
car. You thanked her by taking it every
chance you
could.

When you were 17, she was expecting an
important call. You thanked her by being
on the
phone all night.

When you were 18, she cried at your high
school
graduation. You thanked her by staying
out
partying until dawn.

When you were 19, she paid for your
college
tuition, drove you to campus carried your
bags.
You thanked her by saying good-bye
outside the
dorm so you wouldn't be embarrassed in
front of
your friends.

When you were 20, she asked whether
you were
seeing anyone. You thanked her by
saying, "It's
none of your business."

When you were 21, she suggested certain
careers
for your future. You thanked her by
saying, "I don't
want to be like you."

When you were 22, she hugged you at
your
college graduation. You thanked her by
asking
whether she could pay for a trip to

Europe

.

When you were 23, she gave you furniture
for your
first apartment. You thanked her by telling
your
friends it was ugly.

When you were 24, she met your fiance
and asked
about your plans for the future. You
thanked her by
glaring and growling, "Muuhh-ther,
please!"

When you were 25, she helped to pay for
your
wedding, and she cried and told you how
deeply
she loved you. You thanked her by
moving halfway
across the country.

When you were 30, she called with some
advice
on
the baby. You thanked her by telling
her, "Things
are different now."

When you were 40, she called to remind
you of a
relative's birthday. You thanked her by
saying you
were "really busy right now."

When you were 50, she fell ill and
needed you to
take care of her. You thanked her by
reading about
the burden parents become to their
children.

And then, one day, she quietly died. And
everything you never did came crashing
down like
thunder on YOUR HEART.

_________

__________


If you love your mom, hug her by now..
before she's gone forever...

A Time to Mourn

Regret And I thought I was already on my way to moving on...
Today I am wearing the pair of pants that mommy often thought of as hers. This pair caused mom so much misery as for one, it had once been my only pair of pants tht could afford me a decent day at school and work, and two, there came a point when exchanging clothes with her became an issue due to her incontinence.
And earlier, as I greedily forked my way through my sweet spaghetti from the posh building cafeteria, I had to hold back a tear upon remembering how many times I immersed myself in indulgences when back at home, my mom was suffering from an extreme physical pain one could only imagine.
Just how many times did I complain of the searing sun on my way to work and the freezing cold in my workplace when back at home, I never did once place a thought on how mommy must had been feeling alone, immersed in sweat and urine, fanned by the old electric fan, in her big and smelly bed, under an oven that we have been, for a very long time, calling "home"?
Just how many times did I refuse mommy of her only luxury of removing her soiled diapers for the selfish reason that the relatively expensive diaper could be soiled not just once but twice or even thrice over?
Just how many times did I selfishly choose to watch my favorite shows in the living room television instead of watching these in the master's bedroom where I could have had the opportunity of accompanying mom during her times of loneliness and distress?
This is my time of grieving and mourning. No. Not for mom. But for myself who should have had, would have had, could have had. Regret... my greatest fear. My greatest failure.
Forgive myself? Move on?
Too soon, Precious. Too soon.
__________

Monday, April 17, 2006

Our Source of Therapy

Birdies1_1As promised, here are my pair of African Lovebirds. They are the source of therapy for me and dad.

YM to Heaven

If I ever had a line to heaven I swear, I'd call you there...(Introvoys, "Line to Heaven")

_______

Now I am asking myself: "Just how many times did I ever desire to talk or exert an effort to talk to my mom when she was still alive?"

If only there's a Yahoo Messenger to heaven, I wouldn't waste any moment in logging in just to be able to talk to mommy.

If only there's a Yahoo Messenger to heaven, I would always be online for mommy.

If only there's a Yahoo Messenger to heaven, I would always ask mommy strategies on how to win customers over just like how we always did back in the day when I would call her to ask how I could win over the favor of the judges during my grade school extemporaneous speaking contest.

If only there's a Yahoo Messenger to heaven...

________________________________________________________________________

[16:25] mptcardenas: Mommy, I'm sorry I was selfish. Please tell me you're okay. I love you mommy. I really, really miss you...='(
________________________________________________________________________

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Unselfish

Up to the last minute, you were thinking of us...

I asked for an extension and then all of a sudden, time was up.

It caught me by surprise. I was never prepared. And there couldn't be any more hurtful than having been aware that I never made full use of what really was an extension given to me only because my mom wanted to live longer for dad and me.

The very memory of seeing my mom, in a coma, dropping her last two tears, would forever be a lingering image in my mind.

Mom was unselfish, beating the last beat of her heart even when she already breathed her last. The last beat of her heart was for dad. Her last breath was for me. I'd like to selfishly claim that the last two drops of her tears were for me and dad. She made it a point that I was not alone with an unfeeling nurse in a cold hospital room. She waited for dad. Then she said goodbye.

God knew how much Dad and I wanted her to live longer. It broke me and still breaks me whenever I recall where could we, especially I, have fallen short. There are so many places where to start. There are so many points where I should be blamed; how I refused to take her to the hospital that weekend just because of my selfish reasons, how I fiddled with the idea that I could always put off until tomorrow the priest that mom was waiting for.

Did mom want to be placed in an ICU? Did she want cremation? Did she want to live longer?

Mom was unselfish. Still thinking of dad and me till the very last minute even as I whispered to her "listening ear on a comatose body" to live because she, herself, wanted to, and not because of dad and me.

Mom was unselfish. Who would realize that she still managed to leave something for me that I could use for law school this June? Perhaps she was well aware but just silent over the thought that I could not save up until my leave of absence expires this November what with the expenses caused by her illness... And yes, she managed to confirm the message by bringing over my law school classmates during her wake... that I should go back because she knew I want it and for that, she, as well, wanted me to...

Mom was unselfish. Gathering together in one room relatives that developed a lingering friction through the years and silently bridging the gap.

Mom was unselfish. Providing comfort and silent happiness through the pair of lovebirds that are now my dad's source of therapy.

Mom was unselfish. Reuniting me with my high school classmates and friends with whom I was separated over some childish reasons.

Mom was unselfish. Always on time. Always exact. The amount of money in our hands and the ticking Holy Week clock was enough to provide dad and me the technical comfort in fixing her funeral arrangements.

Mom was unselfish; making her presence felt in a way that I would not be scared.

You were not selfish, mommy. I was the selfish one. I wish you would tell me you are okay. It breaks me knowing that to the last minute you still wanted to live for us even as your frail body was giving you more than enough that you could endure. I love you mommy. I love you.

(For Aurora Villamiel Tierra-Cardenas, September 20, 1943-April 10, 2006, a loving wife, a caring mom)

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

If Only I Could, I Would

Dear God,

If only I could, once again, listen to the concerns of my mom about the dangers of arriving at home very late at night;
If only I could hear her soothing voice that once captured the hearts of radio listeners;
If only to, once more, have her reassuring tone calm my troubled thoughts;
If for one day I could lend my voice to my mom so she could speak, a voice she willingly gave to me from the deep recesses of her being when she bore me;
A voice that is very much hers from the very beginning, literally and figuratively;
If only I could, I would.

_____________________

As a result of my mom being already in the advanced stage of a combination of Vascular and Alzheimer's Dementia, her speech is already impaired. Aurora Villamiel Tierra-Cardenas was once a skilled features writer, sketch artist, accountant for Saudia Airlines/Travel Wide, and a radio announcer/DJ for DZWJ in Lucena City, Quezon.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Turn Back Time

Dec_04_1

If only I could turn back time... December 2004, Dusit Hotel  -  the last family picture during the time when you could still walk and talk clearly... I could only now pray that I'd still be given enough time to show you how much I love you...

I'm sorry mom...

I'm sorry mom...

1. For shouting at you and saying you are "selfish" when I, myself, was the one who was selfish and was not thinking of how you must have felt that time physically and emotionally...

2. For hurting you when I disobeyed you into not doing "it" before marriage and giving in to a guy who eventually turned out to be the really "wrong" one who said nasty things about you...

3. For telling you that I knew dad's mistress...

4. For telling you to look at yourself in the mirror and fix yourself up which often caused you to be insulted...

5. For bending your fingers rather tightly when I got frustated during the last time you were trying to remove your diaper...

6. For grabbing you by the shoulders angrily one time we were fighting...

7. For saying bad words everytime we fought back then...

8. For reminding you of your diminished capacities thus making you lose self-esteem when you, yourself, know that you "can"...

9. For not heeding your call immediately everytime you cry or ask for my help...

10. For not buying you things you deserve no matter how expensive these are...

11. For shooing you away from the living room countless times when all you ever wanted was to have a companion away from your lonely room...

12. For failing to call and check on you a day before your accident...

13. For lately, telling my accomplishments and stories only to dad...

14. For not massaging your feet, arms, hands and legs and only doing that to dad during the time when you could still walk...

15. For being embarrassed to be seen with you coming to fetch me everytime we had an event during high school days...

16. For cooking up excuses just so I would not go to mass everytime you asked me to do so...

17. For charging to your name a disconnected Globe postpaid account...

18. For initially being grossed out in wiping you when you need to heed the call of nature and clean yourself but just can't because of your current condition...

19. For refusing to wash the dishes when Dad commanded me to do so and letting you do it...

20. For demanding that my clothes be ironed or washed overnight during high school days...

21. For letting you still wash our clothes after you got hospitalized two years ago...

22. For suffering the pain caused by dad's belt because you shielded me from him when I was the one who was a naughty, disobedient girl...

23. For falling in the middle of EDSA in Ortigas after buying me a Jollibee Hetty bag and then having a big bruise on your knee because of it...

24. For dragging you to the mall after getting your salary from Congress even if you said you're already tired...

25. For making you spend the money dad left for you in case of emergency and for basic needs for things or food that are not needed and just simply my whims...

26. For switching the channel everytime you are watching your favorite soap or movie...

27. For not appreciating your concern everytime you asked me what time I'll be coming home because of the dangers of being raped, killed, etc.

28. For choosing to be with my friends rather than spend time with you and dad...

29. For cutting your clothes when I was a little girl and turning them into clothes for my Barbie dolls...

30. For being really mad at you when you were just trying to clean my very disorganized room...

31. For being really mad at you again when you "ruined" the ruffles in my black shirt while ironing it because you didn't thought of it as a design...

32. For telling you to finish your food, nevermind the fact that you are in pain due to small bits of rice that stick in between your dentures...

33. For not knowing the fact that dementia sufferers shouldn't undergo a straight catheter process for a urine sample, thus making you really suffer in pain...

34. For leaving you in the "care" of the gay beautician just because I am restless and could not wait and only went back after an hour of grocery shopping last Christmas...

35. For practically dragging you so we could hurry when you could still walk...

36. For not patiently teaching you how to use the computer...

37. For forcing you to text and not to call when you still had your cellphone...

I'm sorry for the countless times I failed to say sorry mommy... I'm sorry if I'm still selfish in not wanting you to go just yet because I want to make it up to you...