Another Year, Another Goodbye

Something I wrote on the plane yesterday...

It's painful to leave a place behind, but it's even more painful to leave people you love along with it. This Singapore trip to come see my sister & her family is a little different from my others, thanks in large part to the companionship of my closest friend (and lack thereof, of my usual travel-buddies: other siblings). We packed, we flew, we saw, we hugged, we laughed, we shopped, we experienced, we cried, then sadly, we left.

Ultimately, my posts regarding Singapore all boil down to the parting. I've described it by many ways in the past, and while all are accurate, no words will ever be enough to describe the gut-wrenching, pit-falling, heart-squeezing stab of pain you experience every time you part with someone you love.

I thought today would be easier, and maybe, in some ways, it was. I thought that by leaving early in the morning, with almost no room, no time for stretched-out and prolonged goodbyes, with no bonding moments and memories from that day itself, it would be less painful and less teary. But like ripping off a bandaid, sharp, immediate and instantaneous, the stab of pain is surprising, cutting off your air in that perfect moment of exhaling. You choke on a sob, and flashes of trying to get your head above sea water comes to mind. There is a mad dash and scramble with your composure and just when you think you've reigned it in, your face scrunches up in that ugly crying face that can soften even the hardest of hearts.

I guess that is what happens when you rip off the bandaid before the wound turns into a scab; when you expose the opened, bruised, and scratched tissues of yourself. There is a dark sickly taste of rust in your mouth as the wind glides over the wound. Right now, ripped away long before I am ready, my nose is filled with snot, my eyes look like red saucers or tomatoes, my mouth tastes salty tears, I feel the pang of hurt in my opened heart. But as I fly home, with memories that'll have to do for now, my closest friend sleeping soundly beside me in the plane, and my sister's, brother-in-law's, and niece's voices still fresh in my ear, I take with me the comfort of Drei's words: There are no goodbyes, just see you laters.

So mommy Mai, kuya Vince, and Ally... I'll see you later.

Love at it's purest form.

Usually, when I say I have the best family in the world, it's something I say off-handedly. I know it to be true, and there's no need for me to question it. So whenever I get reminded, no matter how unnecessary that reminder is, of why and how I know that I truly do have the best family in the world, I tear up and thank the good Lord.

I logged on to my facebook a couple of days ago to find that my sister tagged me in a note. I read it, cried, and again gave thanks. No man or woman, adult or child, deserves to be this blessed. Attached below is my sister's note.

Earlier this afternoon, I wasn't feeling too well. In fact, I had a slight fever. I asked Ally to watch the new episodes of iCarly while I take a quick nap.

After finishing her show, Ally woke me up and told me in her giddy kilig way that Freddy of iCarly kissed Carly. I tried to muster some sort of expression. I guess, Ally knows me all too well. She knew something was up since I didn't react violently to her watching that scene. She noticed that I was feeling much worse than when I took that nap. She started to get concerned. She messaged her dad and told him that I was feeling sick. (It's just me and Ally at home)

She didn't bother to wait for his reply. She's witty, this little one. She's a quick thinker. She tucked me in bed and covered me with some blankets. She gave me a hug and told me to get some rest. She insisted on making me some calamansi juice, which is what I do whenever she starts to feel feverish. I was worried. She could hurt herself slicing the calamansi into halves. I tried to argue but she wouldn't have any of it. She wouldn't listen. She assured me that she could do it. After all, she's seen me do it so many times. She insisted and said, "I'll be very careful, Mom. I won't use a sharp knife." She meant the bread knife. I reluctantly gave in. After about 15-20 mins, I was starting to get worried but since I did not hear any cries, I knew she was fine. Shortly after that, she came back with a glass of warm calamansi juice. I asked her "Does this have sugar already?" She giggled and said "No. No wonder it tastes so funny." She left the room, added some sugar, came back and made me drink it.

After I settled in bed again, she checked her messages and found some instructions from her dad. She read it twice then left the room again this time to prepare some cold compress which she can put on my burning hot forehead. She brought in a small blue tub filled with ice, rubbing alcohol and cold water. After dipping the face towel in cold water, she placed it as gently as she could (which wasn't that gentle but it was the best feeling in the world) on my forehead and covered my eyes. She fixed my blankets, took away the handphone ( I was reading some tweets) and firmly said, "Stay away from the light! (She meant the Mac, the TV and of course, the cell)" I wanted to refuse, of course. But I knew I had to set an example. She was doing the exact same thing that I would have done if I was in her position and she in mine.

She checked her messages again and updated her dad. Daddy told her to check my temperature. And check, she did. Every 30 minutes in fact, even alarmed her cell so she wouldn't forget. Daddy told her to give me some Rexidol too for my fever and she did just that. She went through my medicine bag and asked me to describe it. When she found it, she placed it in my mouth and gave me the calamansi juice to drown it with. I slept so peacefully after that despite her watching Drake and Josh (the TV series). I woke up shortly after the show finished and I felt so much better! No fever at all so she gave me back my computer rights. =)


As a child, I never remembered making coffee or calamansi juice or taking care of my parents when they were sick. I wasn't a bad child. But back then, I felt that as a child, the most I could do for my sick parents was to stay away from them. Don't bother them so they won't feel worse than they already do. Sorry, mom and dad.

What an amazing eye-opening experience. I'm overwhelmed by her independence and her sweetness. I know this may not seem like much to others but for me, it's a telltale of what kind of relationship I have with my daughter. I have no words. I am completely floored.

It got me thinking how every once in awhile, people remind me of how amazing Ally is. It can be Ally's teachers, principal, ballet coach, my sisters, my parents, my husband, my friends, other moms, random strangers. I'd like to thank you all for the kind words.

But to you Ally, I want you to know that I don't need any reminding. Why? Because I see it. I see it.. everyday. I love you, baby!

Ally, Mommy Mai, and to the rest of my family... truly, I am so thankful to have been born a part of you. I love you all.

With all that I've done wrong I must have done something right.

Tearful,

Essa