The Balance of Nature

I love my husband. Until the very end I hoped for a miracle. But as much as I had hope and faith, I also believed in the balance of nature. So although I was praying to God for a last minute change of heart, I sort of gave up the fight the moment I learnt about the patient in the room next to ours.

Our medical oncologist called me on the night of June 17th to tell me that she thinks my husband will pass in the next 24-48 hours. I was holding out hope that with some kind twist of fate the cancer would suddenly disappear just like in the movies. I politely asked the doctor in charge for a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) form before Cezar's vitals dropped further.

I finished signing the form and just stood at the nurse's station for a while. I was lost. Across me the door opened and I saw for the first time the only confirmation I needed about my husband's destiny.

The room was filled with pink balloons and there in a bassinet was a newborn child, sleeping, her mother looking at her smiling while everyone else yapped away holding their paper plates and styro cups. There, in between our rooms, nature maintained equilibrium in this shitty thing we call life. It was a breathtaking sight to behold, and it made me cry for obvious reasons.

Cezar's time was up. I have never been more sure.

I had all the monitors in the room, all the medical personnel to give me updates, but I only needed an infant to tell me that whoever was up there in heaven had made up its mind.

I wanted to know who the child was. Was there any chance she was my husband reborn? Does she know that for her to have earned a license to live, my husband had his license revoked? Questions after questions, my mind bled with the craziness of all that I was witnessing. What a cruel way to be left behind. What a way to be reminded that I am now a childless widow. I could've obsessed over this child but decided to let it go. After all, if we were meant to meet, life will find a way to have our paths cross.

Cezar died the next day, he didn't even make it 'til noon. I should've gotten mad at our onco. I should've asked her why  she said he would pass in 24-48 hours when he died only some 12 hours after we talked on the phone. I was angry to the point of irrational. But  I was never hysterical. Cezar hated it when I went crazy.

So there I was contemplating what to do with a life that I had planned with someone who was now gone.  All I could think of was how this life sucks. I hate it. I don't want any part of it. If there is a God, well I hate him too. The first night I slept alone, I prayed hard to never wake up the next day. I did wake up much to my dismay, but with a newfound purpose which was to finish my late husband's wishes. I prayed that after I've accomplished all that he wasn't able to, it would be my turn to join him in heaven.

I have so much to do and not a lot of heart to do them but I'm trying. I'm taking very small steps. Every step feels like stepping on broken shards of glass. Then I think, at least broken glass can heal-it will scar, but it will fade over time. But my broken heart is not a wound. I can wait for an eternity but it will never, ever heal. Like everything else about my life now, all I can do is live with it.

I ugly cry thinking about what I'm supposed to do with my future. Very few people understand that I can fully function and still be grieving everyday. I have never been in such a confusing place. I can laugh out loud while dying inside. It's so hard to live with the guilt of living, smiling, and laughing without the person I love the most. Always, at the end of the day, I wish I could sleep beside him and feel him stroke my hair. I miss his scent. I miss how I had a person I could call mine. Now it's just me and a bootload of pillows. I still have our cats, but nothing will ever be the same again without him.

I wish I could give mother nature the middle finger, just so I can get even. Out of all the lowlives in this wicked world, why take my husband? But in the middle of me writing this, I feel like Cezar whispered something to me.

I suddenly thought about how sometimes nature's balance doesn't have to happen in completely opposite ends. A life that ends doesn't necessarily have to give life to a new person. In what you may call a crazy vision, I heard my late husband say, "I didn't die so that baby could live, I had to die so you could."

I heard it in my head, and I have never hated myself more.

Missing You

Golden Hour is a period shortly after sunrise or before sunset during which daylight is redder and softer than when the Sun is higher in the sky.

I had this when I had you. You were my golden hour. I don't know how I managed to live without you for the last two months. I miss you. Why can't you just come back?

Making a Choice

If I were to pick an ideal wife for my husband said woman would be

-super hot
-super smart
-a gamer
-loves nba
-loves reading manga
-very successful in her career
-does not have a stupid mouth
-would know exactly where and what she wants to eat at any given time or day
++++many more

She would be so different from me and obviously so much better. With my husband's looks, charm, sweetness, and everything else, he could have found someone exactly like this easy. He could have pursued her and despite knowing that he was married, she would surely reciprocate.

But I was lucky enough to have had a husband who chose me and our love for each other. We used to talk about how when you put responsibilities and bills and due dates into the mix, love boils down to one thing- decision. Love is a decision you keep when love doesn't feel like love anymore. Love happens most when things are least romantic.

For us although love existed from day 1, true unconditional love only happened on the day of his cancer diagnosis. It was there the first night I had to drive a very sick Cezar home with only a student permit in my wallet and a few hours of driving lessons.

Love happened the first time he threw up on my hand while he was trying to get the heavy feeling out of his chest.

Love was when I had absolutely no sleep but went to the blood bank anyway to have myself screened for donation (old fashioned hospital wouldn't accept because I had an old tattoo).

Love happened the first time I had to help him use a bed pan and a commode.

Love was celebrating Valentine's day and our wedding anniversary at the hospital while the doctors try to figure out what's causing his growing pain.

It was in the many months where sex was absent.

It's never getting to give him a full hug because of a feeding tube protruding from his stomach.

The uglier things got the truer our love became.

Our love was in his blood, his tears, and his sweat.

Our love prevailed through toxic piss stained by chemo drugs, it lived in the dirt of his disease.

And he loved me for it.

If he were alive I could ask him if he would wish for ideal wife above and I can say with confidence that he would give me a resounding no.

Because the ideal wife is just that, ideal. It takes a lot more to become the true 'til death do us part wife.

Being the ideal wife is easy. Find out what the man wants, become it, profit. But to lay open with all your imperfections and give your partner complete trust that they will love you as you are, that is true love in itself.

And although days are dark and filled with resentment, frustrations, jealousy, and pain, it's comforting to know that there is love in there too.

30

is my age today

is your age when you earned your angel wings

is the date of our anniversary as a couple

is a number we both loved

and 30

is my one big reminder that you are really physically gone

as i lay here in this luxurious bed that i rented for my birthday

i remember the past years when you would sing to me at midnight

that cheerful happy birthday song

and you would greet me, and hug me, and kiss me

and we would make plans where to go

we were together for 14 years

we became an us when we were both 15

you always said on our 16th anniversary we would do something grand

you told me that since the years that we've known each other would be longer than the years we didn't by then,

that it was a perfect time to celebrate

except we didn't make it to that and i regret it

i wish you were here

i wish i had you to hold for the rest of my days

i wish i didn't have to make it on my own

i wish i didn't have to make this birthday wish

I'm Ashamed to Admit

That it hurts to see other people happy.

One of my best friends found out today that she's going to be a mom soon. She has only been married for 6 weeks. They have only been together for over a month before they got married.

I'm happy for her. But I also cried a lot from all the sadness and envy that I felt upon hearing the news.

I'll be 30 in 2 days, my first birthday without my beloved husband. I decided to celebrate it alone. I want to honor my grief on this day, a day that will remind me of all the beautiful things that I had that are now all gone.

This is my new normal. There will no longer be midnight birthday songs for me. I won't have anyone to make plans with for the day itself. I will no longer be receiving personalized gifts from the one I love the most. It will just be a day that will change my age, nothing more.

I wanted to tell somebody about what I was feeling. I browsed through a list of contacts and friendly names. In the end I sent my thoughts to my late husband. To his social media account that has not had any activity in months.

I told him everything. I sent chunks after chunks of texts on how everything sucks without him. I told him how sad I was and how I hate that he isn't here to see me freak out about the future and what it holds. I told him that I was so afraid of being alone and that it hurts. I told him everything hurt.

I told him that when I lost him, I lost a part of my heart that celebrates other people's happiness. I told him that I was losing compassion and disregarding more and more people and the trivial things that they whine about. I understand how perspective changes everything, I know that we all process grief differently. I just can't show compassion and empathy as much as I want to. I pick people to help, people to listen to (usually confined to a very limited few). I feel like I have to grow my heart back before I start feeling again.

I'm tired. I am done. I just want to get rid of the pain and longing and sadness but I can't.

I am not praying to God. Not yet. I just want to be alone with my thoughts.

I want to pretend that he's still here. That we will be seeing each other in a few. I want to live in this dream. I want to be where he is. For a few days, I'd like to believe that he never left.