I DID not feel like writing anything this week. I felt there was nothing nice to write about because I was feeling sad the past few days. I am bothered by current events, by negative vibes and by sad occurrences in my midst that have somehow made me feel depressed. It almost makes me want to say that this Christmas sucks. But no one is always happy and optimistic.
I cannot always be writing on a happy note, right? That would be totally unnatural, and who am I kidding? We all have bad days. I had a bad week.
Let me share this.
I was running late. I did not wake up late though. I woke up at 6 a.m. knowing full well that I had to cook breakfast before leaving. I do this (almost) everyday, Monday to Sunday.
The past few days have been quite difficult due to bad weather, I wasn’t feeling well. But, like everyone else, life goes on.
Yesterday, I was in San Pedro Hospital. I was attending a course. I have not been to SPH in years. I have ceased to go there regularly since my father died.
Previous attempts (okay, just one) had me in tears and missing him terribly for weeks. So it has been years since that time. The hospital has since undergone a major facelift. It is now sky blue and more cheery.
Anyway, like I said, I was running late so I hurriedly went inside. The lobby looked different, it looked brighter and cheerier. And yet almost as soon as I crossed the lobby, I felt a sense of familiarity with the place.
Just like in the movies when scenes throwback to yester years, I experienced deja vu. The modern upgrades seem to melt away and there I was, at different times of my childhood walking through the walls of what used to be my father's alternate universe.
As I took each step towards the elevator leading me to the Rita Stang Auditorium, I am reminded of happier days spent running through the hallways of the hospital. I remember the old canteen where I ate many a plate of pansit luglug and empanada often with a bottle of really cold soda. I had a lot of these in my younger days, often shared with my siblings and my father. We would talk about school and just let time pass laughing and chatting, until it was time to go home.
I remember the musty smell, it remains despite the coats of new paint try to hide it. I can smell it and it brings a whiff of familiarity I miss, scents of my childhood that used to bother me now triggering a longing for things that have long passed, gone but never really forgotten. I am suddenly engulfed by happy childhood memories, of memories of my father, that abruptly transformed to waves of melancholy. Haay. I walk down the halls, now in tears, missing my father.
Every nook and cranny, every turn, reminded me of him. Of us, father and child, walking, talking, holding hands on our way to the canteen or to the parking lot. I did not expect to get this emotional, really. But I was, feeling both happy and sad, my heart soaring and breaking at the same time. I miss him, and Christmas is making it even worse.
I guess this heartbreak will remain forever because we never really get over losing a loved one. We really don’t. Although we have learned to be strong and have gone on to do other things, gone on with our lives, there will always be times when we find ourselves in this situation--hopelessly missing someone who has gone. It’s a helpless feeling, a situation you cannot do anything about except cry and reminisce good old times.
I share this sad note because I know that Christmas is a difficult time for us, who miss important people in our lives whom we have lost. I know of friends who have just lost loved ones, some, too near Christmas that it’s ruthless. I don’t understand why we are made to go through such god-awful experiences but we do. We all do. What place in the season of Christmas does this sad, unfortunate event have? Absolutely none, but it happens. It feels unfair to be grieving while others are enjoying the season to the fullest. But it happens. I have friends who have lost loved ones recently. It sucks because celebrating Christmas will be difficult.
Witnessing their heartbreak makes me feel like I’ve lost my father again.
I know I share the same feeling with friends who have also lost loved ones. This Christmas blues never fail to get us each year. It always creeps up on us. The sadness is there. The tears are there. You walk around with a heavy heart realizing you will never get over losing them, and there is nothing you can do. Arrgghh.
Right before I stepped into the elevator, I heard footsteps walking briskly toward my direction, and as the sound drew nearer, I wished for one moment to be brought back in time to look up and find that those steps belonged to my father. What would any child do just to ride the elevator five floors up just to be with a dear departed parent again? I would do anything, but it’s not going to happen. Heartbreaking.
But you are not alone. We all go through this. No exceptions, no way around it. The best thing to do is to focus on the good things. Focus on love and happy memories.
Concentrate on the lessons learned from such experiences. Be thankful for all the times spent though they may seem short. Be consoled by memories although tears continue to fall.
Be consoled by the fact that you are actually stronger than you think because you have endured this Christmas melancholy every year, and survived it.
Find solace in the fact that despite the sadness, you still smile when memories remind you of happy days. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine! :)
