
My best friend, Evelyn Marasigan, seated (died July 11, 2019, on Blanche’s birthday); some of my closest circle of friends, L-R, Blanche Arguelles, Vicki Gwen de Leon, Gay Castañeda
My best friend, Evelyn Marasigan, seated (died July 11, 2019, on Blanche’s birthday); some of my closest circle of friends, L-R, Blanche Arguelles, Vicki Gwen de Leon, Gay Castañeda
I wrote this for my classmates, when one after another, notices of parents’ deaths or serious illness were posted to our group. I just had to share this for the generation of baby boomers who are going through similar experiences.
We are now all at an age when we have no choice but to face the fact that our parents are at that age when they will be leaving us, and in fact some have already left us.
It is very sad that it is one of the most common bits of news we now share.
But I believe that it is a sign that their job on earth is done, and they can finally rest in peace and grace.
I also believe that it is another thing that brings us all much closer together, sharing the same experience of bidding them farewell and taking on the title of “senior.”
I know that we all are capable of taking on the title and applying all the lessons we have learned from our experiences with them and from them, good and bad.
Some of our parents have left large shadows and larger shoes to fill but they leave with the knowledge that we are capable of taking over completely.
I, for one, am thankful for all that we have learned and all we gave grown up with.
I am thankful for having all of you as my classmates and for having known almost all of you almost as long as I have known my family.
I am thankful that, as we grow older, we find that we have more to share and more ways to share.
I am thankful that we have grown to be more accepting and more appreciative of each other and of everything around us.
I just wanted to share this with everyone, especially in the light of all the recent deaths we are experiencing because it helps me to remember to be thankful.
Your classmate,
Cindy
children of the earth we are born
in the womb of mother nature we are nurtured
we feed at her bountiful bosom and we grow strong
as children of the earth.
we are born children of the earth
we grow strong feeding from her bounty
and when we are grown we forget how we were born
from the womb of mother nature.
we were nurtured by the rich bounty of our mother earth
we have grown. we have forgotten.
we grow fat taking more than our share.
we grow rich taking more than we need for ourselves.
we grow greedy taking everything from the earth.
we have forgotten how we were born.
we have sold our mother to the highest bidder.
we have sold our lifeline to the earth.
we have sold our mother.
we have sold our earth.
we were born children of the earth
and children of the earth we shall die.
children of the earth we shall hunger for more
and when there is no more, we shall hunger again
for what no longer is. for the barren mother
stripped of her glory
stripped of her bounty
stripped of her beauty
and when she can no longer give
how else shall we live?
as children of the earth we shall die
on the barren grounds stripped of beauty and bounty
in filthy oceans populated by flotsam
on bare mountains that will be bare sand
in the bosom of a dead mother
her children will die.
© Cindy Lapeña, 2013
To know anyone, even remotely, who has passed away, tugs at our heart strings and our mind strings and leaves a bit of an ache. We are reminded of how close death is to us and how no one can ever escape it. It gives us pause. I myself have learned very recently through FB of the deaths of a former student and a former colleague who was a friend as well. I mourn at their youthful passing and wonder at what I will be leaving behind when others hear of mine.
Wispy wraiths drift lazily across the indigo
Gently grazing rooftops
Catching cottony tails
In the pines thrusting their spears
Into the airy soup
Snowflakes drift aimlessly to and fro
Following a fickle breeze
Brushing against pink cheeks
pink noses wrinkling in delight
Following a fickle breeze
Swirling with lazy snowflakes
Landing on pink tongues
Pudgy fingers grasp in the air
As toddling legs churn up resting snowflakes
That join the swirling white flurries
Waltzing with the wispy wraiths
Around the playful pair
And as the deep indigo fades
The wraiths lay the snowflakes gently
gently
on tired legs
tired fingers
cold noses
cold cheeks
Indigo lips
Of two babes forever asleep
Under a blanket of resting snowflakes
Then drift lazily away across the pale pink
Gently grazing rooftops
Catching cottony tails
In the pines thrusting their spears
At the rising sun.
© Cindy Lapeña, 2007
it was a dark and stormy night
and papa was there
to put me to sleep
i had always wanted to be a girl scout
and everyone’s mommy and daddy
was at the induction
to pin the tiny girl scout pin
and tie the white kerchiefs on
i thought no one would come
and just when they called my name
papa was there
mama brought me to my grade school graduation
but didn’t stay
and somewhere in the middle of it all
as i strained to see the tiny faces in the crowd
papa was there
with his camera and his big almost-smile
and when my tummy hurt
really bad in school and
i had to get an appendectomy
before the anaesthetic got to work
papa was there holding my hand
and his eyes and shining eyeglasses
were the last thing i saw
floating next to the iv bottle
and when i walked down the aisle
papa was there holding me
like a little girl again
and smiling and crying
as i was
and when bianca came into the world
i thought i saw papa at the window
in a green surgical smock and cap
and when i woke up
there was a bag of sweets and cakes
and papa
and when i die
wherever i go i’m quite sure
the first thing i see will be papa.
© Cindy Lapeña, 2012
a birth
is all it takes
to commence a lifetime
of existence
in a world
of living;
a death
merely punctuates
reality
jarring us
into the realization
that
life exists;
love
is what makes it all
more painful.
© Cindy Lapeña, 2012
Today, I just learned that my ex-husband’s younger brother had died. He had just turned 49 on July 7.
I remember Manny as very outspoken when the topic came around to one of his passions: old cars, computers and computer games, rock music, and any one of the many causes he advocated. I’ll have to admit that I don’t share any of his passions, although I do like old cars, and I agree with many of his views about political corruption and similar issues. Other issues I simply did not and could not agree with, but I kept those to myself to avoid any highly charged exchange of ideas.
The last time I saw him, I was in Cebu to give a workshop to a group of professionals and we actually just accidentally bumped into each other, because he had some business to attend to in the same building where I was delivering the workshop. He looked pretty well, although he had a whole lot of white hair and he had definitely lost a lot of weight–something both good and bad, because he had diabetes. He told me about his job and how the wedding plans fell through but that he was staying because of his work and his new band and the bike he had recently bought.
Manny had a full life. He made the most of it for as long as he could and made it what he wanted it to be. And while I could write so much more of my encounters with him in the time I spent with his family, I will refrain from writing more at the risk of offending anyone.
Certainly, his mother loved him very much and she will miss him more than anyone else. I can only imagine what it is like to have your child die. But I do know how painfully devastating it is to lose a child. As I cannot be with her, I can only feel for her.
I hope he finds peace wherever he is.