Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The Chronicles of Zak: my little rock

photo by: Carmie B. Dulguime
And it hit me like a boulder tonight...

In the darkness of my room, I weep a year's worth of emptiness and sadness. I fall into an ocean of regrets at what could have been and what I should have done in the first place to keep him safe. My loathe to self heightens and my endless 'why's' resurface. And with the sound of deep sleep to keep me company, I can only shake my head and sob some more. 

I thought I was okay already. Work keeps me occupied. And in idle time, I take refuge in baking fruit pies which I give away if the sweetness at home goes beyond acceptable levels. I focus on Malakai's needs in school and I am more visible inside Dasma these days. It seems to motivate Kuya to study harder, which is a good thing. And on days that I feel like waking up earlier than Daddy, an interesting feast graces our breakfast table. 

I've fallen into a routine of visiting bunso on weekends at the Shrine...and towards end October, I bring home what's left of my little one to keep company through Christmas and New Year. At this time, our family's complete -- I have all three boys in the room: two of them keeps me warm in an embrace that locks and lulls me to sleep at night, but the other one sits cold on top of the dresser...staring...watching...but never judging.

There isn't a single moment in my year that passes by that I don't get reminded of you, bunso. Every visit to the hospital, every image of a new born, every child at play, or a picture of an expectant Mom brings in bittersweet memories of you in me and our journey on the night of November 25th, and your downhill trek to that fleeting 15 minutes of being able to hold you. Now that was priceless! 

I carry with me an invisible candle to light your path, anak, while I grope my way around in darkness and sadness. And if I can pool together all the wishes that I'm entitled to in this lifetime, my wish will still be the same -- to have you grow up to be as healthy as Kuya and Daddy...so Mommy can watch over and get spoiled rotten by three great-looking fellas.

In two days, you would've been three years old. A fine age to be running around and hanging on to Mommy's legs to keep me from leaving in the morning as Kuya had done four years ago. How can anyone keep from being sad at the thought?

I think maybe I'd take the pain of being crushed by a boulder any day than walk around for the rest of my life with this gaping hole you left in me, Zak. Because nothing...no one...can ever fill it in.

photo by: Carmie B. Dulguime

Ang liit-liit mong tao, pero ang laki laking butas ang iniwan mo. I miss you, bunso!