The New Normal

I've been trying to figure out "The New Normal" for the past seven years.  The new normal once I realized A. was going to stick around and not be a passing couple of months stint.  The new normal once A. proposed on national TV.  The new normal after our wedding.  The new normal when a little over a year into our marriage, I almost lost A. because he had to undergo an emergency quadruple open heart bypass. The new normal as the wife of a coronary artery bypass graft (CABG) survivor.  The new normal as the daughter of someone living with advanced prostate cancer.  The new normal after my Dad passed away.


This past weekend, I experienced every emotion from utterly ecstatic and excited because my godbrother, JR married M., the love of his life, even after I, then a tween, dropped him on his 1-year-old head . . . to heartaching sadness at Sunday's wake and today's funeral for JB, who alongside his kids, will begin to figure out the new normal without N., mama & wife, starting tomorrow.


I'm more reflective than usual given it's Dad's second death anniversary (August 30), and I was drawn to wanting to be around folks who also knew my Dad.  I thought that perhaps it might be selfish of me to want to be there for JB and N.'s families.  But I also wanted to show JB my support.  JB is blessed to have joyously welcomed a daughter and son into the world and mournfully the sacredness of N.'s passing.  I have only witnessed the holiness of my Dad's last breath and not a child's first upon birth.   They say the experience is the same -- the first and last breaths of life.


It was truly a precious gift to be around some of our old family friends, my parents' friends at JR and M.'s wedding as well as others at N.'s wake & funeral. So many of them knew my parents before they were married.  Some had come up the ranks of the city hospital with my mom, and others had spent many weekends with my folks participating in community activities like the Filipino Family Bowling League, affectionately referred to as FFBL -- so much a part of Fil Am history circa 1970 - 80s in JC.


Memories can be profoundly comforting as we try desperately to recall the familiarity of having our loved ones around.  That heartwarming fellowship of family friends, those who knew my parents and watched me grow up alongside their kids, is what I needed to break through this year's death anniversary blues.  


We miss you, Dad.  And be sure to give a warm welcome to N.  Remember, JB's wife?  She's from JC too.  

A drive of one's own

Wednesdays.  Usually reserved for dinner with my Mom.  Yesterday, after work I stopped by Mom's and dropped off some paperwork for her to sign, grabbed a quick snack and headed to my haircut downtown.  I had the last appointment, 8pm.  Done 40 minutes later, I headed back home on the NJ Turnpike.  I thought about swinging by an old family friend, J.'s, on 6th Street, our former stomping ground, to see how he and his kids were doing.  News of his wife's recent cancer diagnosis, then mild heart attack, then failing liver all in just a little over two weeks weighed heavily on my mind as I have been all too familiar with being in assertive caregiver mode both as a partner and daughter.  With no update since the weekend, I thought that they might have too much going on and decided against a surprise visit.

Like my bus commute, I welcome (not always) the quiet reflective time.  I listened to the Bee Gees on A.'s CD and flipped through the radio stations.  Going up and down on the turnpike always reminds me of when Dad helped to shuffle back and forth  . . . when A. had his open heart surgery.  I tearfully told him thank you.  And he said, Of course, S. We will do anything for you. 

Once I got on the GSP, I turned the music off.  Memories flooded me -- of driving back and forth from P'ville to Jersey City to Hackensack during A.'s recovery as well as back and forth from P'ville to Jersey City to Bayonne and Manhattan in between during Dad's declining health.  Once I arrived home, I decided to decompress and treat myself to an hour of evening yoga.  In addition to a drive of one's own, a yoga hour of one's own is most refreshing too. 


Upon winding down and feeling somewhat reenergized, I was immediately met with heartwrenching sympathy.  A text message from a friend, E., alerted me of J.'s grief at the sudden passing of his wife.  I hurriedly checked fb and clicked onto J.'s profile where numerous notes of condolences were posted on his wall in the past two hours.  Why folks choose to diplay the most sensitive information on fb, I'm still trying to understand.  Something about instant sharing and gratification.  Instead, I chose to send J. an email the next morning.  Unable to sleep, I could only think of J. and his children's heartache at his wife's and their mother's, N.'s, passing -- much too young, much too quickly. 


Sadly this is the third indvidual so close to my age who's been near death or passed away unexpectedly in the past couple of weeks.  So true what they say, things happen in three's.  You just never know. 


"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." ~ Anais Nin . . . Almost four years since A.'s journey to a healthy heart, and this upcoming August 30th will mark Dad's second death anniversary.  Still here . . . livestrong.


Oh, the courage we uncover in Life's most trying of times.  An expansive Life, it is.  Akahai e na Hawai'i . . . Akahai e na Hawai'i . . . The most tender & comforting love & light to J., S., and I.  Keeping you in my thoughts and prayers. 

A short note from PSB
PSB is working on getting some kind of update as to the status of our dossier on ICAB's end.  In the Philippines, a certain Mr. R. is nudging a particular social worker Ms. K., who shepherds the dossiers through ICAB's review and approval process.  


Waiting is nothing compared to being in unexpected mourning. 

Aloha chanting through The Wait

Any time I find myself anxious, stressed or frustrated, I am sure to engage in some mindful chanting -- usually some Aloha chant.  Most of the time, A. thinks I'm saying jibberish.  But I am sure to research my chants diligently since for me, they have to feel right.  The ones that attract me the most are Hawaiian chants. 


This week, I've been most bothered by being in waiting mode.  In fact, I made myself more insane by trying to surf for any more recent ICAB updates.  I discovered an April 2010 notice regarding the moratorium on adopting out children younger than three years old.  This, we have already been informed of.  Then another notice on how applications requesting children three years and older will be reviewed.  We know this already too.  I then happened upon a handful of blogs describing other adoptive families' wait for their children from the Philippines.  Most of the parents were non-Filipino -- a couple from Canada, another from Australia.  For most parents, their wait was more than a year from the date their dossier had been approved by ICAB.  We continue to wait for our official ICAB approval.  In the meantime, I have been reintroducing myself to more disciplined (and basic) yoga practice.  I think it's best if I think that the time of our child match is still far, far away . . .


And so I chant,

Ahonui a lanikila

Ahonui a lanikila

Ho'opuka e ka la ma kahikina

Ho'opuka e ka la

patience, patience, patience

open the door to thoughts of light & love

fill my heart with the Aloha Spirit

"Aloha is to learn what is not said, to see what cannot be seen and to know the unknowable." - Queen Lili'uokalani