Rainbow Bridge

It’s been a week, and what a long sad week it has been. You have been bawling uncontrollably, emotions flying crazily everywhere at the mere thought and mention of her. It’s not the best time to be wearing mascara.

You still find yourself staring at her favorite spots in the house: in the yard near the gate where she people-watched with you usually on Sunday late afternoons; in the living room near the television where she kept you company as you lounged on the couch doing nothing; in the dining room where she always bugged you to share your food with her. You faintly smile when you recall how she was always hungry.

Mornings are different now. Gone are the days when she was always the first to greet you upon waking up. Afternoons and evenings are not the same either. She was always the first to welcome you home from work, always so cheerfully like you’re the best thing she’s seen all day, and the last you saw before you turned in at night.

You notice how the house now feels too spacious, too quiet. There’s an unquestionable feeling that something’s lacking. Home now feels sad. Home now feels incomplete.

A week has passed, but tears still fall. These tears fall now because she is missed and longed for. You’d like to expect — hope that you’ll see her again, but you know that’s not possible right now, at least not in this life.

So this is how it is – – – when you lose something/one you’ve loved and nurtured so much to death, it feels like you have a hole in your heart that keeps tugging at every memory you’ve shared. It’s painful, and the pain is in your heart.

And just now you realize, your days will never be the same without her.

Life will never be the same.


On the 8th

We stare at the same stars at night

We bask under the same sun

Sheltered by two different roofs above our heads

Thousands of miles apart

We hold on to a promise dear

We rely on a love that’s real

One day soon the space between us

Will be nothing more than an inch.

(Hair) Evolution

My hair is forever changing.

Long, short, shorter, super short. It’s brown, black, red, “tangerine”, purple-brown. It’s buzzed, layered, shaven, curled, with bangs, without bangs.

I change my hair so often that I always get asked, “Nagpagupit ka (na naman)?” [You had another haircut?] And the ever-so-entertaining, “Anong naisip mo at nagpagupit ka,” [What were you thinking?] or “May pinagdadaanan ka ba?” [Are you going through something?] It’s rather amusing how some people sound so affected with the changes I make on my hair. Do I offend? Lol. With every hair change, I get a mix of likes and dislikes…with the occasional and amusing, “WTF?!”

I get it. I can’t please everybody.

There was a time I took offense and felt annoyed at the nasty remarks. Until I got tired of being offended and realized, I’m not really making these changes for other people. I’m doing it for myself, because it’s what I want. To me, it’s a form of self-expression; Something that’s natural. It’s like when you put on makeup, or when you choose to wear what you want, or when you decide to get a tattoo.

I can be very adventurous, quirky, and weird with my hair, but changing my hair constantly as often as most people change underwears (provided they change regularly) to styles unimaginable to a few does not mean I’m going through something enough to cause a drastic alteration in the way I look. And even if I was going through something, so what.

It has become so convenient to generalize and assume for us that it’s so easy to make a habit out of it. Does change always have to equate to something negative? Hell no.

Change, in whatever manifestation – – clothing, style, hair, etc., is not always negative or caused by something negative.

Coco Chanel once said, “A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.”

Come to think of it, whenever I get a haircut or do something different, I get a big dose of fresh newly-found confidence — the kind that makes me feel like I can do anything and be what I want. I can’t be the only one who feels like that, right?

It took me a while, but it no longer bothers me when someone subtly or blatantly insults me about the way I look – – be it my hair, my clothing, etc. For as long as I am happy with my choices, and I’ve made them on my own, I couldn’t care less about what other people think.

I am going to keep being my quirky weird me. ❤️

Jeepers Creepers

It has been my habit to wait for my brother to arrive home from work as it makes me uneasy staying upstairs while he’s still out. Sometimes when it gets too late, I catch on some sleep on the couch while Marshie stays close to me.

Last night, I dozed off even if it was still fairly early at 10pm. I was only startled and awakened when Marshie started barking. My first thought was my brother has arrived, so I went straight to the door and opened it for him. To my surprise and confusion, there was nobody there. The weird thing was Marshie hasn’t stopped barking. When I turned to ask her what she was barking at, I found her at the foot of our stairs, looking upwards. She was clearly_CLEARLY barking at someone (or something) upstairs.

I immediately got my brother’s baseball bat and my eyeglasses (because I’m blind), and went upstairs to check. I don’t know what came over me. I was cautious that somebody must be upstairs, but I wasn’t scared at all. To make the long story short, I found nobody (or nothing) in the rooms.

When I went back downstairs, Marshie had already gone back to her bed, sleeping as if nothing had happened.

Still confused and a bit shaken, I sat on the couch trying to process what just happened. Yes, even during situations like this, I still manage to reflect.

First of, I didn’t just dreamed everything (although part of me hopes I did). It did happen. What I did though, just rushing upstairs to check for possible intruders, armed only with my brother’s bat, was not safe at all. I should have informed my parents at least. Again, I don’t know what came over me. My first instinct was to get something for protection and check at once.

But the question still remains: What was Marshie barking at?

Based on how Marshie looked at whatever it was last night, mom and dad think she saw my lolo. You see, my lolo was a tall lean man and when he was still alive, he had a habit of standing either at the middle or foot of the stairs. After he passed on, relatives would claim they caught glimpses of him or his silhouette on the stairs.

On the 30th of this month, it would be 24 years since he had left us. Maybe, he wanted to pay us a visit and check on everybody.

I don’t know what Marshie actually saw last night that creeped out both of us. Living or non-living, we had a visitor last night. Clearly, I’d welcome the latter more than the former. Reckless as I was though, I won’t be afraid to go full on-Negan on him. I have my own Lucille.

Kidding aside and above all though, prayers do wonders, as always.


The past two or three weeks had been tough for the family, more particularly for my dad. He was rushed to the ER for two consecutive weeks, and for the past few days, had been struggling to move and eat.

The most difficult and heartbreaking for me is to see my dad in so much pain, to see him cry, and for me, the whole family, to keep it together and remain stronger for him.

We remain strong in our faith and trust that the Lord will not let us go through challenges we as a family cannot overcome.

For the past couple of days, dad has been showing some progress. From barely moving in bed all day and needing to be lifted and carried, he can now slowly sit, stand, and walk on his own even without his cane. He’s also regained some of his appetite, too. Slowly but surely, he’s getting stronger and stronger.

We remain strong in our faith and trust that the Lord will not let us go through challenges, we as a family cannot overcome.

There’s still so much to be thankful for though despite the challenges.

I wrote that two days ago, as dad was undergoing a bone scan.

Today, we received the results, and unfortunately, the cancer has metastasized to dad’s bones, particularly his skull, sternum, clavicles, scapulae, ribcage, vertebral spine, pelvis, humeri, and femora. Dad has to undergo IV treatment, similar to chemotherapy, once a month for six months, and after which, another bone scan if the medicine is helping.

Help, that’s all the treatments can do – – – help slow down the cancer, because to put it bluntly, there’s no more cure.

To be honest, I am feeling a mix of anger, pain, exhaustion, and sadness. But I also quickly realize, what the hell for? Where will feeling negatively bring me? Nowhere. And if I’m feeling this way, how much more for my mom, and especially dad.

We are badly bruised as a family, but we’re not beaten. We know to remain strong in our faith and trust that the Lord will not let us go through challenges we as a family cannot overcome.

We are not beaten. Our fight continues.


I’m sitting alone in the living room, in the dark, trying to make sense of the day, or at least, the first half of the day. Actually, Marshie’s with me, but she’s sleeping, so. I’m trying to sum up the events of today in one word and coming up blank.

Up and down, up and down. Roller-coaster.

It started at around 1am this morning. Dad was rushed to the ER, second time in two weeks, because of his cancer. Dad was brought back home by 4am, with a catheter attached to him, and an appointment with his doc tomorrow afternoon. Damn illness won’t leave us alone. We’re struggling, perpetually praying that my dad pulls through despite the pain. We can do it, dad! Spirit’s down, but fighting.

With barely any sleep, I managed to drag myself to the nearby mall to run errands. Before heading home, I stopped by a pizzeria to grab some mojo potatoes to go. As I was waiting, by the bench near the entrance, Ate with the long freshly showered hair sat beside me. I know her hair has been freshly washed because it’s still damp, and it smells of Rejoice. Can’t deny it. One of my pet peeves is coming across a woman who goes out of the house with her hair still dripping wet and reaking of too much perfumed shampoo like she just stepped out of the shower and had no time to even towel dry her hair. Sorry, but that just grosses me out. Seriously.

Ate Rejoice combed her hair with her fingers and hit me thrice in the arm, shoulder, and face, and she knew she hit me because she looked at me, all three times. No apologies, just a look that almost means “Yeah, I have long damp hair, so what?!” That’s when I let my claws out and said, in my most calm voice that made me even scarier, I think, “Ate, tatlong beses na yang buhok mo,” with a straight irritated face. I didn’t want to be suplada especially when I’ve had very little sleep and was already hungry, but girl asked for it. I think I scared her because she frantically pushed her companion towards the edge of the bench to stay away from me. Spirit’s down.

While I was silently hoping my mojos would be ready soon, two Millennials came in and approached the guard. I had the best seat in this encounter. Here’s their conversation:

Kuya Guard: Yes, Ma’am? Ilan po kayo?
2 Millennials: May kasama kami, Kuya. Hinahanap namin.
Kuya Guard: Ay, sige po, Ma’am.
2 Millennials: Nasa’n po sila, Kuya?
Kuya Guard: Naku, eh di ko po kilala kasama niyo.

I almost did a face palm. Kuya Guard was visibly amused and found it too funny, he just had to laugh out loud. And I did too, after the two Millennials left. Spirit’s lifted a bit with the comic relief.

When I got home, I was able to catch the last few minutes of the McGregor vs. Khabib match, where the former lost. I was rooting for him. Spirit’s down again, but was lifted back up when McGregor showed true sportsmanship despite defeat. He’s still my champ.

I’m sitting in the dark, in our living room, with my sleeping dog. I can hear a faint Christmas song playing from my parents’ room. It has also gotten dark outside; It’s going to rain soon. It’s as if the universe is setting the mood for me to rest, and for the first time today, the first time in so long, I feel like napping.

Yes, I think I’ll sleep now.

P. S. Thank you, Arlo, for holding my hand from afar.


I’ve been reflecting on the past week, but I’m finding it difficult to even know how and where to start.

To say that last week had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting and stressful is an understatement.

Our office conducted a legal conference in Davao for three days, but prior to that, we’ve already spent weeks making last minute preparations. Ours was a team of first-timers, so as expected, we encountered a few bumps along the way. A few rocky bumps along the way, that when we finally finished, we literally fell on the floor (of our room) after our shaky knees had already given in.

Apart from work duties far from home, I worried about some family concerns, too. On my first night in Davao, my dad was rushed to the ER, and my aunt twisted her ankle in an accident. It was the first time I felt so frustrated and helpless, to be so far away and not be able to do anything. “Why did I have to be on this work trip, just when my family needed me?”

It wasn’t the best feeling, to be in that situation, but I was. I didn’t know whether to keep a straight face (in front of my bosses and colleagues), or cry. I wanted so much to grab my things and fly back to Manila, like Manila was just a jeepney ride away.

I still assumed my work duties, while I waited for updates about my dad and aunt. I never looked at my phone as often as I did that night. I was anxious, so much, that after I used the toilet to do a Number 1, I absent-mindedly clicked on the bidet when I meant to reach for the flush. Yes, I got drenched in toilet water. Don’t ask me how that happened. I can’t explain it either. I laughed, and I guess I needed that.

The events of last week reminded me about how hard work and preparedness should go hand in hand; when faced with obstacles, it’s always best to focus on the solution, rather than the problem, even when it’s easier said than done; and to keep calm, always keep calm.

But I feel, more importantly, I was reminded to keep strong in my faith. It wasn’t easy to be in such circumstances, and I could go on and on about feeling stressed and tired, but in the end, faith sustains and endures.

My team and I successfully conducted a legal conference. My dad although still with health concerns is doing fine. My aunt despite the twisted ankle shared more love and laughter with us before she flies back to America later tonight.

Indeed, I needed that instant toilet water shower. It was a wake up call, I think, to trust in the Lord and keep faith.