The Longest Trip Ever: A Tribute To My Mom (Part 2: Mom and Pain)

It was July 2 in Canada around 2 pm when it all happened. After lunch, I was on my way back to work, said goodbye to my sister, and she wailed in pain and I dropped my car keys and my bag and looked at my cellphone. I knew what that meant. But my first instinct was to still look at my phone, and read the email from my dad that began with “CK (he calls us by our initials), brace yourselves, I was in shock. The pain was great, quick, and sudden, like a huge rock fell on top of me. I could see how my sister grimaced in despair, and we cried and held each other for a long time, shaking uncontrollably. How could that have happened? When earlier they said she was doing much better talking to them, eating and then sleeping? Our world collapsed beneath us.

Skype. It was our only way to see her. We saw the same grief in my dad’s and brother’s faces as we made the most painful Skype call we ever did make. We saw her; we talked to her still because we knew she could hear us. It was good that she was home, surrounded by her family. Daddy said it was peaceful, the way she passed. They had lain in bed side by side and he could hear her in deep sleep, and suddenly in labored breathing, almost like deep snoring. He called y brother and together, they held her hand and saw her last breath and kissed her. Why couldn’t we have done the same? We were a hundred million miles away. And we never felt so helpless.

It was just insurmountable. Unbelievable. All I knew was my head felt like it was going to crack open, and my heart was filled with lead. All the water in my body came gushing out of my eyes. I was screaming until I couldn’t make anymore sound and lay there motionless. I have lost the single person I have loved the most in this world, and I couldn’t even hug her one last time. She was there, and I desperately told her all I wanted. They put a phone to her ear and I bade her goodbye. I felt like drowning.

I lay quietly for a while. It was difficult to even breathe. Or move. Or think. Every second, sadness chipped away at me and all I could do was weep. Minutes seemed like hours. Hours seemed like days. I looked out the window and all I saw was a dark shade. How can I even imagine that the feeling became worse and worse the longer my mind recognized that it was real, that it was actually happening? The worst thing that can happen to me happened. It did.

For hours, we helped plan out what was next. We couldn’t eat, we couldn’t do anything. The world has stopped and we passed time just in two ways, crying and resting after crying. And then we prayed. We told ourselves that it was all right. That it had been the better way to go. Not much pain, no struggle, no hard disease bearing down on her body. I just couldn’t let go the regret that I wasn’t there. That I was so far away. I hadn’t seen her in person since October when she went home. I mourn that it was the last time I got to hug her and kiss her and tell her that I loved her in one motion. Though I had many times told her in my emails and in video calls and phone calls, I will never hug her and feel her warmth around me again. I was devastated. She was so young. She was so good. Why do they have to go to heaven so quickly?

I couldn’t even have the strength to inform our relatives or tell my friends. I thought that if I didn’t tell anyone, that it would not turn out to be true. But I told the people at work first, because I had a full calendar for the week, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything after this, especially go back to work. That night, I got the courage to email my close friends and let the hurt out a little bit, to get it off my chest. It felt better. One friend said the right word for the pain I was experiencing. Debilitating. It was exactly that. Every time I read or hear a word of condolence or encouragement, I felt crying. Whatever I do, I felt like crying. We turned to prayer, and through our tears, we were able to light a candle and say a novena. We ate some dinner but we couldn’t taste anything. Everything was lost. Taste, sense, sound and feeling. My sister and I huddled in bed and couldn’t sleep but our bodies were exhausted. I passed out at 4am and woke up at 6am, and the pain was still there.

Next day felt a little better, only because the memorial service at home was done and setup just 3 hours after she passed. We helped my brother pick out a dress and took care of the arrangements. Everything was done through Skype. I am just grateful to this technology that is available now, that we could support each other still, without being in the same room. The outpouring of help from my mom’s dear friends, our neighbors and our relatives made us feel a little better. We couldn’t bear to look at our dad, who seemed to carry the most pain of all. The love of his life and reason for being has died in his arms. Our grief now goes towards him than ourselves.

Maybe that’s why I felt a little bit of lightness on the morning of July 4 when we talked to our Dad and he was being very positive. He said for us to stop crying. We talked about the happy memories we shared in the past year. He told us that mom always said that it was the happiest she’s ever been in her life, those 6 months we cared for her in Canada. We made sure of that. We gave her everything she needed, wanted and more. My sister, my brother-in-law and I are proud to say wee really did cherish her and filled her bags with happiness and memories. And we have 4000 pictures and videos and emails, that we have of her, having the time of her life. My dad, my brother and nephew spent the months after that nurturing her too because they missed her too for 6 months. They showered her with love and affection. All throughout this time, there was no disease, no pain. She had sometimes, although very rarely, had that acid pain in her stomach but we never thought that she was in danger or even had the symptoms of the big C, if ever she did have it. We still don’t know now.

What happened was she had felt sick the weeks after our big home project was done. She was stressed and tired from helping demolish our old house, and empty and organize its contents. She was feeling sick, and since it wouldn’t go away, we let her get checked. At first her doctor sent her back home because her blood test was clear, and she was given medication for her hypertension that she had for a long time. I wasn’t convinced of that diagnosis. She was hard of breathing so we suggested to have her lungs checked. True enough, she was diagnosed with pneumonia. We were relieved to know the root cause of the problem and with hospitalization and antibiotic treatment, she was cleared and she went home. The only problem that we saw arise was that she lost appetite and couldn’t eat. She also had trouble sleeping. She was home and she was inundated with lots of medication including the ones for sleep, to no avail. Apart from that she was alright, she even was happy she was out of the hospital and that her friends visited her while she as there and she was thankful that she was cleared by the doctor. She told us it was her 2nd life because she got scared about it. Ever since the stomach diagnosis, she was always wary and scared that the big C was just lurking around a corner. We didn’t think so because we knew she suffered pneumonia and was cured. Then days later she said she was feeling headaches this time, back to the hospital she went. This time was a lot worse because she couldn’t eat, she had difficulty breathing, and was vomiting constantly. We had everything checked, her blood, her heart, and her head. All the tests came back clear, and no problem. We worried she had a nervous breakdown of some sort and that the fear of sickness and being hospitalized made her stressed and worried too much. After almost a week of trying to get better, the doctors looking after her gave the all clear and sent her home. She was at home but we knew she would get better care. We talked to her on Skype and she said, “I’ll be better in 3 days”. 3 days later she passed away. Maybe that’s what she meant. My Dad always said that God favored her because she has a low threshold for pain and that God only gave her what she can handle. God didn’t let her suffer years, or months, not even weeks with the disease. Only days. We never ever thought it would be fatal, because the last thing we know of her was she was eating and doing better and that reassurance that she said “I’ll get better”. The shock was the most painful to bear. If I had known she was ear death, even the remote possibility, we would have all flown sooner and cared for her. We didn’t have a chance. In 3 days form better to worst, it was so soon. I just felt sorry I wasn’t there for her. That is the toughest cross to bear.

In the end though, what’s most important is she died peacefully. She didn’t struggle so much. She was with people who loved her most, including us, who although miles away, always cared for her and loved her and thought about her constantly. She didn’t have to fight the big C, if she did have it. We’ll never know now. It doesn’t matter what it was. We just knew that it was short, a bit painful, but we did everything that we could for her. Maybe she didn’t want us to suffer. Maybe sweet and short is the best alternative for her. We are at peace that she left with lots of happiness in her heart, bags of memories to cherish, friends, relatives and family who regard her with much respect and care and love.

This morning we decided to stop the tears and try as best as we can to focus on the positive, to celebrate her life, to remember our happy memories with her. Dad is right. This is the time for us to be brave and be united and be happy for her and let go. There are a lot of people that love her and every day we hear these stories. These stories that show what a kind and loving and thoughtful person she was, cherished by all.

This is my story of her. This is my best effort to put all these feelings I have into words. Because this is all I have. I will write them down in this longest trip ever. Aboard the plane, in between airports, until I see her again one last time before I finally say goodbye.

k.
At Vancouver airport. Waiting for my next flight. 151pm central time.

The Longest Trip Ever: A Tribute To My Mom (Part 1: Mom and Planes)

I am sitting now aboard this plane looking out at the window 40000 feet above the air, looking at the crisp, clean sky and feeling more at ease. I hope this is the start of the burden being lifted. I’m seeing a bright light and had a glimpse of the silver lining behind that horizon. I cannot help but think to myself that she is at peace now. This is where she is, up in the beautiful clouds, with such quiet peace and serenity. Just never-ever ending blue skies, white clouds and fulfillment.

I flew with her once before. It was April of last year, she was nervous and I held her hand, as it was her first time to fly trans-Pacific. Filled with anxiety but armed with a silent confidence that her youngest daughter was beside her, she smiled through bouts of being excited and being afraid. I told her that it would all be alright in the end. It was.

I remember the stress of coming from the Manila airport, with the ultra congested highway on a hot summer day, on our way in. We were rushing as we were 2 hours into check-in. A dear friend drove us from her house into the airport, and the first glitch was the pullout handle on my mom’s purple bag I had bought only 3 days ago, broke. We couldn’t push it in back in the bag. It was not an expensive suitcase, we bought is because she loved the color. Think Christmas time puto bumbong. So there we were, she was stressed going to fly for the first time, and the very second we left the car, her bag broke. I told her that it would be alright. We switched bags and I said I would handle her carry-on from then on. It was a bot of a hassle having to explain in Manila and in Vancouver to everyone looking to use the extra space of the overhead compartment I was inadvertently occupying, that I couldn’t move the bag around as the handle wouldn’t go back in. There were probably 400 passengers in coach in that 777, and I had to explain my situation to everyone who wanted to use the space. Just a bit funny when I remember it now. And I wonder, being obsessed with the wonder of statistics, how many people would have to go through that situation with a broken luggage? I hope not many.

We went through the never-ending queue to baggage check-in and immigration and numerous security checkpoints. By the time we reached the gate, she was already tired. Flying wasn’t always so fab. I told her my secret comfort, just to use when leaving the Manila airport -- always bring a fresh shirt. By the time you had finished everything that you had to do, you were stressed and sweat dripping from your brows, and a fresh new change of clothes and washing your face makes it all reset to being relaxed. The first thing I taught my mom was the console on the PAL aircraft. As you all know, mom is a gamer. She probably has more facebook friends than me, and they all play Candy Crush. My mom has constantly asked for lives from all my friends, particularly DEM, who are all over the word. She would sometimes email me at 2am just to send her a ticket so she can move on to the next stage. I, of course, being inadequate when it comes to seeing patterns and bursting candies, had resigned at Level 38. I now relied on my dear friends to continue support her Candy Crush ways as she progressed level by level. It is funny to recall that she kept tabs with all my best friends in high school and they have carried her forward. When we would Skype, she would tell me, “Can you please tell your friends to not forget to give me a ticket ‘cause I can’t go ahead?”. Hahaha. Then I reminded her that some of us are probably sleeping as we are in different time zones. I’m telling you now, it was significant. She will all remember you guys for that. She just couldn’t get over somebody being at Level 240, or something like that, and it was her goal. So, yes she was a gamer. And I introduced her to that, as well as the console on the aircraft. She played Tetris aboard that 13-hour flight. She also watched a couple of Pinoy movies and she was smiling. I made sure I chose PAL so it would be an easier and shorter flight for her. She slept and loved the Pinoy hospitality and the Pinoy food on board. I think we had adobo and eggs for breakfast.

She was a bit stressed and anxious because 2 weeks before, we sent her for an endoscopy test. She had constant acid pain in her stomach and we thought wise to have it checked out before we left. It was bad news. The doctor had found some stomach ulcers and small black spots, that were, as it was stated, “looked like cancer” but not for sure. I refused to believe that biopsy result and wondered again about statistics, how many of these test results actually come out wrong? The way it was worded, was it was consistent with the structure of those cells, but not confirmed. It had something to do with how the epithelial cells were aligned. I worked on nanotechnologies in my life before, and at this point I wondered, how odd it is in this life that in our infinite knowledge and experience, be brought down by a few stray cells? We deliberated and talked about it as a family. We knew she was 62, but would be scared to go under the knife with an unsure diagnosis. What if it is the surgery that impairs her? We simply could not risk that. I talked on the phone with the gastroenterologist who diagnosed that and suggested surgery. I had a heavy gut feel of misbelief in his diagnosis when we talked on the phone and told me it was severe. He said “the MRI scan showed penetration of the cancer into the deep tissue”, and that’s why I didn’t believe him at that point because my mom never went to do an MRI scan. How can he possibly say it was severe? I had concluded he confused my mom with another patient who was supposed to go to surgery. Clearly it was the MRI results that made him suggest the surgery. I had recommended and my family concurred that we should observe it for a while because the pain was not severe and not at all consistent. I said, let’s bring her to Canada for a long vacation and see how it progresses. She would be under my and my sister’s care, and if there were episodes, she could have access to one of the more advanced health care system in the world. We would monitor her condition, if the pain grew or happened more frequently, and if she would lose weight and all that other symptoms. We researched well into it and tried the homeopathy or natural approach of fighting cancer. We showered her with all the love and care we could possibly give, and made her comfortable and happy. We nourished her with the healthiest food, vegetables, fruits and even all mutations of guyabano or soursap for its anti-C properties. We bought her guyabano juice, tea, in the boxes. In Winnipeg, we even bought the actual fruit that flew over the Pacific and imported from the Philippines. I couldn’t even find fresh Guyabano in Pampanga, but it was amazing that it was available in Canada. We made that vacation, the best she ever had in her life. And the stories about how happy she was, is never ending. This list goes on and on. She became healthy, no stomach pain and she gained a lot of weight. So we told her, mom, maybe it was just ulcers and not the big C, because there were no other symptoms. Or maybe it was but we were just on top of it.

So, back to the airplane story, so there we were, and I was explaining how everything worked and how I made sure she would be able to, in case she couldn’t wait for me, go home by herself later in the year. I had to make sure she knows how to naviagate her way around and also to use the full array of services. She made friends with the flight attendants right away as she could only drink milk on this flight. She had this easy charm about her, and even the flight attendants, were just on their own accord, giving her a fresh cup, now and then. She had this kind, friendly face and it would work amazingly on strangers. If I asked for a Diet coke refill, I’d probably get sneered at. But here she was, with her smile making them work with her and with the most unusual requests.

When we touched down to Vancouver, I rehearsed her answers for the Immigration Officer. She could speak good English, but she was a little nervous, so I had to make sure she was confident and comfortable, to say “I will stay 6 months, possibly a year”. As you know, even with a multiple entry visa, length of stay, always depended on the Immigration Officer at port. I accompanied her to the queue and when her turn came up, she just smiled and was pleasant. They didn’t even ask her a single question. The officer then asked me, “Is this your mom?”, and I said “yes”. He said, “Please let her stay as long as she likes. I’ll stamp her for 6 months and then he continued to explain how we would simply apply online and make it 2 years”. Amazing. When I saw the people ahead of us in the line struggle a little bit, my mom just breezed through it with her demeanor.

I will tell you this other story just to reinforce how amazing she is with strangers. In October, on her way back, she travelled alone. Being the control freak that I am, she knew what to expect, fro A to Z. From even knowing what the airport is going to look like, which way to turn, and how to find her gate number. She was still nervous that time but we knew that she would do well. She surpassed that expectation and even did better! On her way to Vancouver, she befriended a Portuguese-Canadian lady named Maria who was her seatmate at the plane. They talked and instantly bonded. Maria recently lost her husband to cancer and was telling my mom how they made the last years of his life significant. They talked about my dad and how my mom missed him so much, having been apart for the longest time in their lives on this vacation to Canada. This Winnipeg to Vancouver flight was a short one. It was 2 hours on the air tops. At the end of this flight, the Maria handed her a $20 bill. She said, “Go spend this in Vancouver and buy a little gift for your hubby and hug him as tight as you can and cherish every moment with him”. She was so excited to tell us this story on a payphone in Vancouver, and we were so happy. I was so worried that she would be scared on her own. Instead she walked out of the plane with a friend, a random stranger, and $20 in her pocket! I had flown so many, many times in my life, lived in 3 other countries, flew to many cities aboard many flights. I have never made a friend on board. And I have never gotten money from a friend or a random stranger that I have just met. She trumped me on her first flight alone. And I strive to be someday, be like her too.

My mom was really charismatic, sweet, kind and friendly and like my dear friend said, people named “Gloria”, were meant to be angels. She was exactly that to us, she came home happy and strong and ready to fight the disease if she did have it. She cherished every moment with us and hugged us tight and told us daily how she loved us. She made sure my father felt loved and special, and she even threw him his biggest birthday party on June 17. She held my father’s hand and my brother’s hand, on her last gulp of breath; they both kissed her on the cheek. 2:19 am on July 3. Meanwhile my sister and I, enjoyed after a good lunch, talking about mom, and at 2 pm our time, got the biggest shock of our lives. She was gone. She was 63.

k.
at 40000 ft. somewhere between Winnipeg and Calgary. 1049am central.

if you believe they put a man on the moon

is a line from this classic REM song.




on this day we remember Neil K. Armstrong, who will always be a significant person in history being the first man who took the first step on the moon which is more famously now known as the first giant leap for mankind. note that his middle name starts with k. and he did the moon walk in July 20, 1969, which a 9 years and a day later would be my birthday. today Aug 25, 2012, he passed away. and this day is for remembering.


imagine that! in the hippie sixties, they put a man on the moon. it must have been amazing watching that live television feed and hearing and seeing for the first time, how a human stepped on another celestial body other than our planet. that was the benchmark for science, the unwavering totem of discovery, invention, and genius enveloped by the triumph of the human spirit.


and now in 2012, 43 years later, another leap. we put a rover on the surface of mars! that is just remarkable. not only did we develop the machine, the artificial intelligence, and the powerful computer that make up this wonder, we managed to actually study, expound on theory and calculate risks and manage them, to make it possible to send this invention of genius to land on a planet we know nothing about. to see that in my early lifetime is a treat because i know that a few more years from now, another human will step on that new planet. aptly named `Curiosity`, this marked our first venture to explore and eventually conquer space.

as a tribute to this amazing event that will be forever etched in our minds and history, i named my new blog `k for curiosity`. i am definitely rooting for it to succeed. not only to bring us all the only fresh new data and thousands of photos, samples and test results on mars but somehow in the deepest recesses of my gut, i want it to prove that other beings live there too. that somehow in this day and age of the internet and social media that proved the earth to be`a small world`, Curiosity will be our first try of being paparazzi to the martians. haha.


i feel like in this point in my life, i am like Curiosity too. 2 years ago I embarked on a long journey and traveled trans-Pacific to move to a foreign land. i left my love, my family, my home country and my comfort zone, to try out something new and to try what it was like living at the other side of the world. and 2 years later, i still struggle to belong.


this blog will be my companion on this journey. like Curiosity, i will slowly and timidly ease out and explore the facets of life here, i will take thousands of pictures and run all kinds of tests. i will inch my way into better knowledge and understanding on similarities and differences. i will venture out to make a footprint and experience things that were once deemed impossible. every day i will learn and i will share what i learn. there will be triumph to find and mistakes to be made. some days i will be wide-eyed, happy and amazed. some days i will feel lonely in my solitude from being thrust upon a cold, unfamiliar place. Like Curiosity just slowly moving along a red, barren, dry land, not knowing what it will find. and what i find, i will write about. as so too will Curiosity some day bring home all the answers.

as always, the common denominator is hope. and faith. hope in a new beginning, faith that this happened for a reason. there is always a belief in me that is strong.

i do believe they put a man on the moon. and for me that can only mean one thing: i shall live my life and push it far and wide. there are no limits.

thank you mr. armstrong.

hello people, i am back...

after more than a year hiatus in blogging, i am back.

the odd thing was how i find myself again. for the first time since i moved to this lala land up north (read: canada) , this is the first time i got up early and actually had enough motivation to jog. it was mainly brought about by not only trying to get in shape, but also re-awakening parts of me that are true to my core.

no. 1. i`ve always been sporty.

i played morning until night when i was a kid, whether it be `taguan` (classic run,hide and go-seek), `patintero` (philippine tactical children`s game of crossing lines), `piko` (hopskotch), `jackstones` (doing tricks and picking up stones with your hand and a small rubber ball), `pinoy football` (pretty much like baseball except you kick the ball with your foot and run for the bases), and `chinese garter` (it`s not even chinese but filipino), where we jump and cross and do all sorts of tumbling with rubber bands made into ropes.

all of you who grew up in the philippines in the 80`s know about this. This was before technology, this was before the internet, this was before the time everything kids know how to play is from a touch-screen device. we lived like little olympians. fun was based on skill, and how much you can push yourself to do unsupervised acrobatics and shenanigans, and still came home in one piece. that was the good all days when your troop was limited to the neighborhood kids. and if you`re bad-ass, you are the leader of that troop. haha. i got to decide what we`ll do for the day. so i had to be fit, and i constantly worked on my skills.

i fell in love with basketball when i was 9, and i ended up playing for my highschool`s varsity basketball team who won a school division championship. i played forward in my classic no. 9 jersey and swag, and i had the time of my life. there are so many life lessons you learn from sports. and that`s why i love it.

flash-forward to 18 years and 50 excess pounds later, that little sporty person is trapped inside a person that watched the amazing 2012 London olympics every single day for 2 weeks when it was on, loudly rooting for the athletes that always give their best and challenge records. My life for this year can be summarized in this simple timeline: watching my favorite nfl team, the NY giants, win the superbowl in february, and then watching my favorite German football team compete in the world cup in july, and then watching the olympics in august. Why has it all become watching sports for me???!! that is so sad. where is the person who loved to do these things, who was addicted to tennis in college, who played soccer with friends in the mud on a rainy day?

So this summer I bought a bike for 25 dollars and a helmet to make me feel like i can livestrong like lance, and started to exercise again. this morning i did a 6.39 km snail pace of trying to jog and miserably failing.

as you can see, my pace is a flatline. I saw a 92 year old granny overtake me on a 5mph scooter. At least it`s the beginning.

All credit goes to my best friend, who can not be possibly anymore wiser. When i messaged her that Friday is my second favorite `F` word, she said, `No!! You love football more!`. And that is soooo true.

Like the way this morning when as I was telling her and celebrating with her my day`s early morning accomplishment, and my beautiful self re-discovery that i was: no. 1. sporty, she said: `No, that`s no.2...


...you are a writer, that`s no. 1.``

Thank God for her and all her wisdom and knowing me better than i know myself.


This is for you and thank you for being that person in my life.


I am back. K is back. Both no.1 and no.2.

Cheers to this new blog and to exercise!