Goodbyes

I have been putting off writing this one. But I don't trust my memory. And this is part of my life that I choose to remember, no matter how painful it is. 

Mama

We lost Mama, my mother-in-law, on February 17, 2020. About a week before that, we were able to visit and spend a few hours with her. She happily watched the little boy's new antics. 

On Friday, February 14, Papa's death anniversary, Mama went to the cemetery to visit him. She was still okay then. However, come night time, she suffered a stroke. The helper found her unconscious in her room. They rushed her to the hospital. Unfortunately, no ICU was available in the nearby facility. They had to move her to another hospital. While she was still not accommodated in the ICU, this hospital was bigger and had better facilities. 

On Saturday, we dropped by to say hi to our still unconscious Mama in the emergency room. We spent Sunday with her as well. 

Dawn of Monday, February 17, my husband got the dreaded message - to go to the hospital immediately because things were not looking good. Mama's kids were able to spend a few more hours with her until she passed on peacefully in the morning of February 17. 

Things were challenging because Covid was already in the Philippines by then. It was fortunate that things were not that bad yet. We were still able to hold a 3-day wake and visitors still flocked. Mama was well-loved and there's no doubt about that. 

I know my husband and his siblings were distraught with Papa's passing. But I knew Mama's was more difficult for them. Mama was a stay-at-home mom who devoted her entire life taking care of her family. I cannot imagine how big a void she left in her children's lives. 

I will always associate Mama with good food and stories. She makes sure everyone is well-fed. She plans everything and at 90, she still cooked for us. And I'm sure to be updated on the latest happenings when I talk to her. Being the newest in-law in the family, I'm quiet and shy around my husband's family. But Mama always made me feel welcome. She'd share stories with me as if I've been part of the family for a long time. 

My husband's strong. But I know how much he misses Mama. I'm sure it's a feeling that will never go away. 

Covid 

 

The following month after Mama's funeral, the lockdown started. Her interment was probably the last time we saw my husband's family. We were stuck at home. Too scared to go out because we didn't want to catch the virus. That means, I was unable to see my family for a long time too. The last time I saw them was in February too for my sister's birthday. 

It was probably a blessing in disguise that I lived in the province and vaccines don't get here as fast as they do in Metro Manila. I stubbornly registered for a vaccine slot in Marikina. Fortunately, we were able to get a slot just a few days or weeks after I registered. 

June 17, 2021 was a happy day for us because we finally got to leave the house again. The little boy was so happy to spend time with my parents and sister while my husband and I got our vaccines. He insisted on teaching his grandparents the games he played on his gadgets. And while it must have been difficult for them, they obliged. The little boy felt bad that we didn't take that long. He didn't want to leave. But I reassured him that we'd back in 3 weeks for our second dose. 

July 8, 2021 was a day the little boy looked forward to. He had this countdown in his mind on how many days were left before he could go to Marikina again. :) And on that day, same thing happened. He didn't want to go home. My husband and I finished faster this time so we decided to drop by UP first to give the little boy a bit more time with my family. 

Then another surge and lockdown came. We were once again stuck in our houses. It was a sad time too because an uncle (Tatay's younger brother) passed away suddenly due to heart attack. He was in the province so his family had to fly there to be with him. They were not given the opportunity to say goodbye. 

Tatay

 

A few days after my Uncle's funeral, Tatay complained about feeling bloated and having no appetite. They had their blood tests done and it showed that his sugar level was way elevated. The doctor wanted to repeat the tests. But my mother decided it would be better to check him into a hospital for more comprehensive tests. It was fortunate that we have an aunt (Tatay's cousin) who works for a big hospital in Quezon City. She was able to connect them to a doctor and assist them in getting a room. 

September 27, 2021. Monday. Tatay was scheduled to undergo a CT scan. It was also my first day for Korean 3 (a KCC slot I got by luck). My class was supposed to start at 1:30 p.m. A few minutes before it started and while I was already on Zoom preparing to connect, I received the dreaded message. 

The scan found a big mass in Tatay's pancreas. They would do additional tests to check on it but it was probably cancer. And pancreatic cancer is always detected late. And that explains the elevated sugar level - his pancreas was probably not producing enough insulin. 

Tatay did not want Nanay to tell us. He just wanted to go home and keep things between the two of them. Nanay refused. We had to know. 

The doctor did not recommend surgery and chemotherapy. Tatay was 75. His body might not be able to handle it. And by experience, surgeries of that kind would just be open - close, without really resolving anything. Sometimes, things even get worse with it. 

The doctors gave Tatay options but most of them were just really palliative. Tatay rejected all of them. Again, he just wanted to go home. 

The doctors said Tatay had 6 months, at most. I was consulting a gastro around that time too. And when I told him about Tatay's condition, he emphasized to me that 6 months was a liberal estimate. 

Tatay went home. He was his usual self the first few days. Although he would complain of pain once in a while. And he'd send scary messages like he's not ready to be written off yet. 

I wanted to be with my family. But I had my own health issues to attend to. I had to be in the hospital for a test and I had to undergo a self-imposed 2-week quarantine before I could visit him. 

 

The day I found out about Tatay's condition, I wrote him an email thanking him for all the wonderful things he did for me. I didn't send it right away. I was scared that he'd be offended and think I was rushing things. It stayed in my inbox for a couple of days. But after one night when he experienced extreme pain and he said he thought that was it for him, I decided to send my email. I had a feeling that the inevitable was coming sooner than later. Tatay would usually reply to my emails, matching the length of my original message. This time, however, my long email only got a 2-liner reply - thanking me and telling me that I deserved to be his favorite eldest daughter. 

 

From the day we found out, the little boy and I would call him everyday. Some conversations were long, some were short. Then came the days when he'd be too tired to even pick up our call. 

 

I planned on sleeping over in Marikina on alternate weekends and have lunch there on Sundays when we didn't sleep over. It was challenging to drive with the little boy as my lone passenger. But we got by. At least I know I still know how to drive. 

The last Sunday we were in Marikina, Tatay was still okay. He had a hard time moving this time but he still listened to the little boy's stories. He still engaged him, teased him even. 

Then the final weekend we were there, things just went downhill. Tatay stayed in bed the entire day. He refused to eat. We'd manage to give him a few Glucerna and electrolyte to keep him hydrated. He would take his medicines only after much prodding from Nanay, my sister, and I. And he didn't want the noisy little boy around him.

Changing his clothes and cleaning him up was extra challenging. He was heavy. We were all girls taking care of him. And he was probably shy to be seen by me and my sister in that state so he still preferred to let Nanay take care of him. But we managed. 

Let me just say that I love my sister even more after seeing her take care of Tatay. She's a teacher so she has online classes in the morning. Despite that, she has her camera on to check on Tatay in case he needs help. She would get up from sleep if she sees/hears him stir or cough and Nanay doesn't notice. She'd run to him right away. And her patience. Even if she was tired and she lacked sleep, she was never impatient with Tatay. She would always have that sweet, gentle voice encouraging him to take his medicines or drink his milk. And that's saying a lot because she has always been the sungit one in the family. 

That weekend, the little boy and I decided to stay. We were supposed to go home on Sunday but my husband brought our stuff instead. My sister and mother would not be able to do things on their own. They needed help and I was the only one who could do it. My brother still had to complete his quarantine for Tatay's safety. 

November 9, 2021. Tuesday. Nanay was understandably tired and was not that patient with Tatay. Even Tatay was not that patient either. He would scold me whenever I asked him to take his medicine. When I'd tell him it will relieve his pain, he'd retort that it was making things worse actually. Whereas before he would still sip his drink from his cup, we had to start "dropping" it in his mouth using a teaspoon. 

He was having a hard time. It was evident. So when my sister and I had our chance to be alone with him, we talked to him. I asked him if he was tired. And he said sobra. That's when we decided it was time to have the "talk." We told him it was okay for him to rest. And that we'll be fine and we'll take care of Nanay and the family. We thanked him for being a great father and for all the wonderful things he's done for us. And we told him we loved him. And that he'd please watch over us and take care of us. And that he give my sister a good husband. For most part of that day, he was frowning and obviously in pain. But at that moment, he was smiling peacefully at me and my sister. As I held his right hand, he used what little amount of energy he had to raise his left hand and put it on top of mine - perhaps to reassure me that everything will be okay. I've been holding back my tears in front of him because I didn't want him to worry. But at that time, I just let it all out. I couldn't hold it anymore because I felt that the time was coming. (Aside: while we were having the talk, he pointed somewhere and asked "Hin-o it hira?" Brr.)

November 10, 2021. Wednesday. Things were tougher. Tatay refused to drink Glucerna. We could only make him take his pain reliever as he rejected all other medicines. The doctors told us to ask him if he was willing to go to the hospital where he could be hyrdated. He refused. He didn't even want IV at home. The doctors told us that it was almost time. He might make it to the following day but it won't be that long. 

His blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen levels were already fluctuating around 6 p.m. We already video called our brother who could only go out the following day. 

After giving Tatay some drops of electrolyte, Nanay sent me and my sister off to have dinner. Nanay had her dinner shortly thereafter. I was in charge of washing dishes for dinner. As I washed the dishes that night, I looked out of the window and into the skies. I talked to God and asked him to lighten my Tatay's load. I didn't want him to suffer and be in pain any longer. And around that time, my sister came rushing to me in the kitchen, asking for help to check on Tatay. 

When I got to their room, Tatay was not moving. But I can tell from his position that he was curled up in pain. Nanay and my sister said that prior to that, he was rolling over and gripping his shorts in pain. Then he opened his eyes, looked at Nanay, raised his arm, then closed his eyes and stopped moving. 

 

We fixed him up in a lying position first. We could not get a heart beat using the oximeter and the blood pressure monitor. I asked my sister to get a match stick to put on top of his wrist to see if it will still move/vibrate (thanks to the little boy's science experiment re this). The match stick didn't move, Tatay's tummy was sunken too. 

We called our doctor neighbor to make the official call. Tatay passed on at 9:30 p.m. 

I've always imagined myself to be the wail-y type of person. But I was surprised to find out that I was not. I had no choice probably. I had to take care of the little boy. And Nanay was breaking down. My sister and I had to be strong for them. 

The funeral parlor got Tatay's remains a few hours later. And the following day, he was cremated while surrounded by our family, his brother and sister-in-law, his cousins and cousins-in-law, and a nephew. We brought home his ashes the same day. 

We wanted it over quickly because we needed time to grieve quietly and privately. Things happened so fast that we didn't have time to process one sad news after another. 

A friend who lost her dad told me that the death of a parent is a void that knows no time. And she said I must have lost my moral compass. Not really. Tatay did a good job in instilling that moral compass in me. It will always be there. What I lost was the person who would interpret that compass for me and say things I didn't want to hear. 

I brought my sister and Nanay home with me about a week after Tatay's cremation. I know it would be too sad for them to be left there on their own. They stayed with us for around 3 months and only went back home last Sunday. They're planning to sell the house and move nearer me. 

These are painful things to remember. But I need to write them down because I never want to forget those final days. I need to remember that Tatay is in a much better place now. And that I should be grateful that we were given the time, no matter how short, to say our goodbyes. I miss him everyday. I wish he'd visit me in my dreams once in a while just to reassure me that he's really okay. But for now, I'd have to be contented with reading our old emails and messages, looking at our old photos, and watching our videos. 

P.S. Tatay loved telling his 75 story. He passed the bar in the year 1975 with a grade of 75.75. When he was diagnosed with cancer at 75, I teased him that he must love the number 75 so much. We both prayed that he'd make it past that age. I selfishly prayed for another Christmas, New Year, anniversary, my birthday, and the little boy's birthday with him. But I guess it was not meant to be. 75 was his favorite number, after all.