family ties

november 1 is not just a day for remembering the dead. it is also for remembering the living who are nearing death. it is a duty for the family to care not so much for the healthy but more so for the sickly and suffering members. one must face reality. one must accept the fact that earthly life will end and a transition to the other worlds will come. our attachment to those we love makes this painful. and yet, how many of us seem now to distance ourselves from sickly and suffering family members? now that they are emaciated, skin and bones, and immobile, why do we not find time to be with them? how come we find it difficult to hold their cold hands, to whisper in their ears white lies of their "good"health, to talk with them face-to-face smelling their foul breath?

we must do all these now, while warm air is passing in and out of their nostrils, while their saliva can slide down the corners of their mouths, while their eyes are open, and the sunlight can still awaken them.

dog

i remember brandy. he's probably the biggest dog i've ever buried. we found him by the garage frothing blood in his mouth. he was poisoned, father opined. we tried to make him drink some sugared water but his tongue's too stiff to even lick the wet sponge we offered. his eyes were closed. all of his body is stiff. but he's still alive. we can tell by the faint movement of his chest. don't move him anymore, father said, let him be. we left him for a while.

when i returned he was dead already. his legs were outstretched. small red ants have already found their way inside his gaping mouth. i thought i saw a hint of tears in his eyes. looking at him it is just now i realized how long his body was. although he was a local breed, he was a lot bigger than the others. i held his front legs by my left hand and his hind legs by my right. i had to drag him out to the front yard. he was a lot heavier now that he's dead.

i patiently dug a large hole in our front yard about five feet long and 3 feet wide. i tried very hard to make the hole deep enough to accommodate his stiff body. but i only was able to reach about 2 feet deep into the earth when my spade had hit hard adobe floor. i can't make the hole any deeper.

i hauled his body into the hole. the length and width were sufficient but the depth was not. i tried to position his body but his stiffened legs just kept on jutting out. there's just one way to fit him into the grave. using the spade, i broke all four of his legs to be able to bend them. i heard the bones crack but i know there'll be no pain for brandy anymore. i said sorry, as i covered him with earth. death is real. i know the body i buried is not the real brandy. i firmly believe there is another immaterial part of him that has transcended physical death and will journey back to its Creator/Source. brandy is not different from us.

waiting

two day's ago, father was way too early to be knocking on my door.

"son," he said, "your mom's calling on you. she's having some chest pains, could you come and see her?"

it was about 6 in the morning and i had just woken up from a hard night's sleep. i hurried over to the other house with father hardly able to keep in step with me. like mom he's also advanced in age. mom's about 81 now while he'sabout 79. unlike mom, though, he's still very mobile while mom never really recovered her mobility after she suffered a stroke 4 years back. what's surprising was while her doctor claimed that she had recovered about 94% of her good condition, she never exhibited such recovery. after the stroke, she became too reliant on father. she demanded that father be constantly at her beck and call.

and so father became her nurse and her companion. it was difficult to see father like that. although he's already a retiree, father is still very active in his extra curricular activities. these he lost all when he devoted most of his time to attend to mom. but as his husband he must perform his duty. when they got married it was part of their vow -- to take care of one another always.

i entered mom's room and there she was lying, eyes half closed. when i held her hand she clasped my hand tightly and opened her eyes. she smiled a faint smile, and pointed to her chest. she's having difficulties speaking now. she resorts mostly to signs and gestures.

i asked her loudly, "are you having trouble breathing?" no, she shook her head. "is your chest still painful?" yes, she nodded. "shall we bring you to the doctor?" no.

she motioned to me to come nearer her. she wanted to whisper something to me -- "this is just natural for someone who's close to dying," she whispered in my ear.

it's my turn to shake my head. but she smiled again. and stroked my hand as if convincing me. her eyes were half-closed once again. how could she suffer like this, i thought. how could someone be gifted with long years of life but spend that existence in pain and misery? it's been taught things happen for a purpose. things happen so one can pay back. to even things out. if one had planted seeds of negativity one will one day reap negative fruits. if one had planted seeds of positivity, one will gather positive fruits. either way one is getting a payback. either way one will have the opportunity to even things out with the Great Creator and with one's fellowmen.

i stroked mother's hand in turn.