6.12.24

In loving memories

It's been a couple of months. Never expect cumulative or compounded grief to hit us, always unexpectedly. Haven't felt this kind of heavy heartedness since the beginning of the pandemic. This time, it's the season of life that envelops our day-to-day, checking in on elders, making sure that they are eating healthy, going to their scheduled medical appointments, disciplined about taking their meds and daily exercise, not overexerting themselves with house matinenance. A. and I also underestimated the impact on our 12yo, toting her up and down to Jersey to visit with sick and dying elders. We have been back and forth more in the past couple of months than we usually are in a given year. She has been overwhelmed with the most recent family news.

Since Tito Mading's death in October, our families have known three other deaths. In their loving memory, I scribe their names:
* Dennis Austria b. 04.27.69 - d. 11.09.24
* Jimmy Asuncion b. 06.1.43 - d. 11.29.24
* Olivia Salgado b. 05.24.47 - d. 12.03.24

Each one has touched my life in a specific way. Dennis is a distant cousin, disabled like my brother. His mom and my mom came to the States as nurse recruits from the Philippines and lived together in the nurses' dormitory, part of Margaret Hague Maternity Hospital in Jersey City.

Tito Jimmy was our typical Filipino tito in the neighborhood, kidding around with his friendly jabs, knowing how to just almost push your button as a teenager. The dad everyone delights in joking around with and by the time you're of age, appreciate a good drink and conversation.

And Tita Oli is one of A.'s beloved aunties more like an older sister ever present in his life since his childhood years in the Philippines, joining him for afternoon merienda. Funny enough, she and her husband were good friends with my Ninang and Ninong (godparents), all Connecticut residents. When A. and I first started dating, she did her diligent research on me. Tita Oli and Ninang chatting it up on the phone, the chaotic tsismis that ensues among Filipina older women. Deeply grateful we made the time to visit with Tita Oli twice in the past two months while she was in the hospital and at home. 

May they all continue to be loved beyond the stars. 


In loving memories

i breathe better
when i walk among the trees
where branches crisply crack
in the winter winds, where leaves flurry,
where i release my heartache.

what seems so convincingly worrisome
whips past my face
need the chill to hush my quiet grief
that swells like each timed arctic snow eater

the universe in her unassuming way
with every passing loved one
seems to scream,
this is life
love and be loved

she is my teacher 
who lulls me with her lesson,
this is the cycle of life --
may we welcome the invitation
to open our hearts 
with awe inspiring warmth

peaceful mother embraces me
invites our fretful selves 
to sit in her lap
to weep and live love

24.10.24

Fall whispers

 Amado Lopez
b.01.26.39 - d.10.21.24










just after noon
after mid morning minutes stretch
i reach for comfort
i stroll
under the golden, apricot, pumpkin,
and butterbeer canopies
and scour the leaves for life's truth
beneath the sacred scarf of oaks and maples
the autumn softly beckons
one whisp, one leaf at a time --
let go,
release
i sorrow with my hands open
ready to receive
he is here
she is here
they are here
all of our loved ones
beyond the stars
in the changing colors
of the tumbling leaves
we are here
i place my hands on my heart
they are right here. 

9.10.24

The muscle memory of grief

Working hard to stay grounded while we wait for A.'s beloved uncle to die from pancreatic cancer. He has been the kindest and wisest father figure to A., a constant reminder of how his grandfather raised him during his early childhood years. I am truly grateful to have had many opportunities to get to know Tito (Uncle) Mading through our conversations during family gatherings, along with email and written correspondence through the years.

I remember Tito Mading's gentle expression when he was at my Dad's funeral and repast. I am deeply touched that he made the time to attend and celebrate my Dad's life. Since then, both A. and I have made tremendous effort to stay connected with him especially when we moved to NoVA. 

This past weekend, we visited with Tito Mading and engaged in a lovely and reflective chat about fishing, family and the cycle of life. Clearly weak from not being able to eat anymore, he was alert and very much at peace with his brave and thoughtful decision to die with dignity and hospice care at home. 

As we sat with him, I worked very hard to keep it together despite welling up when he shared that he appreciated all of my notes through the years, and grief bubbled up in my body as I recalled sitting with my Dad many days while he was dying, having heart-to-hearts with him, asking him for his wisdom about life. And he asked me, Have I been a good father?

When grief becomes muscle memory, my heart is heavy as I make an intentional effort to sit with my body and acknowledge the gravity of my feelings, allow myself to cry. While I can reflect on happy moments, I still feel the deep sadness in the loss of my Dad. From the time he decided to stop all treatment to his death from cancer, it was three weeks. Waiting for him to die was the most difficult and the longest three weeks of my life.

I requested the following from Tito Mading -- that he visit us in our dreams and also say hi to my Dad. A devout Catholic, still he curiously wonders if they will meet in the same place beyond the stars. I have no doubt that Tito Mading's memory will be a blessing to all of us who love and know him. 

25.8.24

The scent of August

The anticipation of transition, the whisper of new starts, the unexpected around the bend, all set against August's aperol spritz hue. In addition to birthday month, the highlight of our August included attending our niece's wedding. To wedded bliss everly, Nicole and Vincenzo!

Pamilyaful
where the raindrops mizzle
and the cityscape's lights gloam
and the river enamors
souls entwined are pure

12.8.24

Solitude = self romance

alone
in the starshine
my feet kiss the earth
and
sun-smacked
i listen to the lightbeams
like a field of buttercups aglow

alone
with the melody of my persian blue glitter pen
floating across my mini notebook page
it glides as i tune in --
flawless asmr
like skates on fresh ice

alone 
in the time of gladiolus
oh the much welcome peaceful solitude,
medicine this 52 years young
evolving crone needs today

19.7.24

Yes, I did

Dedicated to all those before me who have served on a PTA board. 

This was my PTA journey -- accepting challenges, coordinating chaos, wrangling volunteers, ignoring complaints, spreading positivity. This past 2023-2024 school year as PTA president, officially done June 30th. 

Deep exhale.

Since my departure, friends have mentioned that I look so much lighter, they even described me as *radiant*. What?! By the end of my tenure, many people introduced themselves to me for the first time, sharing that they plan to be more involved next year. My PTA colleagues surprised me with a dinner sendoff, and a few mom friends and I celebrated with a karaoke letting go session.

I haven't shed a tear as I am relieved to be finally done, proud of what I accomplished amidst mainly personality challenges and entitled dynamics, grateful to have earned the respect of our school community - teachers, staff, administrators, and parents, and thankful to have made good friends along the way too. 

By the way, the movies don't lie. Bad Moms, Field Day, their material comes from somewhere in real life. 

No regrets as I had a good dose of what it's like to work outside of the home while still accessible to my daughter, partner and our family needs. PTA president is a J-O-B. While I chose to commit full time to the position, it was the push I needed to truly know that I have viable, serious professional skills that still apply to the most demanding of workplaces.

Lessons emphasized:
  • Sometimes an organization has to muddle its way through after collective trauma, mainly the pandemic, to find its way back to a new way of being.
  • While it pays to be patient and respectful, it is also appropriate to stand your ground and push back too with a sense of advocacy and integrity.
  • The position of PTA president is not for the faint hearted or thin skinned at all, necessitates a mindful sense of sincere collegiality, grace and politicking. 

Yes, I did. 

Here I am, mid-summer. Ready to figure out my next chapter. I got this.

16.6.24

Wading through June

June is a big month. My Dad's birthday is June 4. A. proposed June 9. Father's Day is in June, and our wedding anniversary is June 18. Not to mention family birthdays in June too. June is the gateway to summer, a time to wade through life's dark spots. 

Bit of an annual ritual as I page through photo albums, memories of my Dad. Traditional Filipino man who arrived in the 1960s, worked hard to create a life in Jersey City. Age and sickness softened him. 

Not the image of him pained and bald because of cancer treatment. This is how I like to remember my Dad -- cutting and funny, engaging and a bit of a button pusher, overall supportive. My fondest memory of him is how he, along with his Knights of Columbus buddies, came out to support a historical mural project I'd been working on with  FilAm youth in Jersey City. More than thirty years ago, I gushed with idealism and activism, my time divided between my NYU career and community work with NYC's Asian American and Jersey City's FilAm youth.

Grateful that my relationship with my Dad grew beyond my 15yo angst, that we had a chance to appreciate each other -- he as a seasoned parent, me as an adult woman. Thankful that he had a few years to relish a friendship with his son-in-law, a man whose patient compassion supported our family through our journey with cancer. 

Hope your view from beyond the stars is wonderful, Dad.

12.6.24

Binabati kita

Binabati kita. Congratulations to us. You, your Dad, me, Lola, Grandma, Grandpa, Ninang, Ninong, Titas, Titos, Ates/Manangs, Manongs/Kuyas. It's the last day of school, and it happens to fall on Philippine Independence Day. You represent our family, and we are all interconnected, kapwa. Mindful of our Filipino roots and parents' journeys to the States almost sixty years ago, I am deeply conscious of how sacred it is to witness your crossing the stage into tweendom. Just as a crab molts, you will experience transition to life in middle school. This is a time of natural and necessary growth, along with patience and discomfort, you will shed what you have outgrown so that you may fully tackle what is new.

Yes, it's nerve racking, and it's rewarding as you engage us in deep conversations about your perceptions of how the educational system recognizes your supposedly more astute peers and how it frustrates you that your ordinary efforts in submitting creative pieces in annual art contests or documenting cultural projects to celebrate diversity the past six years are not recognized as extraordinary learning accomplishments. And they are! That you took a chance to learn a new piano piece (having stopped lessons before covid and now self taught whenever inspired) and partnered with a pal who plays violin to peform a duet for your sixth grade variety show, that is courage worth appreciating. No accolades for how keenly tuned in you are to how your peers and teachers treat others and how thoughtfully self aware you are in those challenging situations. 

You remind us to find the extraordinary in the ordinary as extraordinary moments are found in the most ordinary people. How deeply touching that you donned your Grandma's 1969 heirloom dress for your moving up ceremony and that we could start a new tradition by gifting you with a Filipino lei to show how much we love and honor you in this life stage, how far you've come and muddled through a pandemic.  Grateful that your 81 years young Lola is healthful to hop on a flight from Jersey to DC and share in the celebration.

Eagle out. Bruin ready to rise.
-- 
i need a moment
to soak it all in
she is silent, i hear her
she's got me, she is everything
the creek burbles
she shimmers in this moment
i ruminate
on this day as i stand still
the universe graciously poised too
she takes my hand and says,
i've got you, come with me 
and see it all --
perfect.

30.4.24

Magic in the world

Our 11.5-year-old performed in her first official ballet production, Don Quixote, with the Viriginia Ballet Company and School this past weekend. It has been a long journey complete with emotional meltdowns and exhaustion, rehearsals since January. Tech week rehearsals leading up to performance weekend were grueling immediately after school, 5-10pm. Picked her up for early dismissal that week, so that she would have some transition time between school and rehearsal and let her sleep in late on school mornings so she would be somewhat rested as she pushed through with harrowing allergies too. And she missed a full day of school on the day of theater tech rehearsal before performance weekend. Did I mention that I am so not #balletmom
To witness her ongoing dedication and absolute delight after her performances as loved ones and school pals flocked by her side to congratulate her was precious. Theia (Greek for Auntie) traveled by train from Philadelphia, Obasan (Japanese for Grandmother) used to be our neighbor in Vienna, and locals from Alexandria, Tito Francis and Tito Joe all came to support. Deeply grateful for the family and community we have built here in NoVA.

A little magic in our world.
--
A bit of a situation arrived at our doorstep after dusk last night when our doorbell rang and our elderly neighbor (her phone was not charged) stood outside with an 11-year-old boy appearing neurodivergent. He was lost and wandering for the last couple of hours with his bike which had a flat tire. He shared that he needed directions to get home. Clothed in black pants, navy t-shirt and gray sneakers with no helmet or reflectors, we immediately called the police, and three emergency trucks arrived within minutes. Mohammed's parents had just placed a call to police two minutes before ours when a helicopter had just been cued up to do a search. Thankfully, his father arrived relieved to take him home safe and sound. Good to know that police forces are immediately responsive, especially when children are involved.

The crisis so moved me what with our own resident 11-year-old. Magic in the world . . . can be incredible.

23.3.24

How freedom feels

how freeing she says
her wings stretch far and wide
her sceptre beak leads majestically
ready to take on spring's mid-morning
in the moment only illumination
after the heathered rain
and the sun plays peekaboo
with the winged beryl
who emerges fully committed
to this game of life

10.3.24

Hold my hand

can i let go of the madness for a while?
fall out and drop back
into the holy hush of now
this breath invites me
to remember your story, 
how we are a part
of each other's story
we need each other
in the cloudburst,
in the sunlight
can we show up for each other with love?
let us hold out our hands 
and embrace each other