the inevitable has come, the end has been met.


It still feels surreal to be in a reality where my Inang no longer exists, except for memories, video clips, and photographs.

My heart must have stopped for two solid seconds when I read the message across the screen, Wala na si inang. Just like that, and the world seemed to have stopped. And then a quick snap back to reality, the now. A mix of disbelief and acceptance and heart shattering in pieces, I manage to call my tita, which further confirms the end. Crying frantically of the reality before her eyes, because she is there, right next to my grandmother whose heart has probably just stopped beating - permanently - she is crying and uttering, Chrisfel wala na si Inang, Chrisfel, wala na siya... 

And nothing is under control anymore. I shut the office door and cry with my tita over the black rectangular object that is my mobile phone and manage to utter, Tita, tita... and nothing more. And that's it. The truth of it all hits you and slowly, painfully, starts to creep in. This is the now, the reality. I call my nanay, who is already asleep, who tries to stay calm but hears me crying and she starts crying and we both cry and the world just stops making sense for a bit.

We were prepared but we also weren't. You think, the end will come for sure. It will come soon, for sure. This is what Inang will wear, this is what we'll do, these are the plans hereafter.  We take deep breaths and sad sighs and silently wish for miracles, but we all know that the inevitable is gradually coming. This is something we must accept, this is something we need to be prepared for. We were prepared, but we definitely weren't. Because when the time had come for that final breath, the pain unexpectedly seethes in and breaks your heart into a million tiny pieces, the kind of broken that will never completely, totally mend. There will always be a missing piece no matter how hard you try to delicately and meticulously glue each piece together. This is the kind of pain that literally stops your heart and your brains from functioning normally for a few seconds, or maybe a few weeks or a few months. The pain will linger no matter the path you direct yourself to walk on. 

And now all I have are memories and photographs of those rare occasions when such memories were captured. I wish I had taken more photos of her despite her refusal or her slight annoyance because she thinks always thought that I take way too many photos of everything and everyone. But of her, of my Inang, I realize now, I had not taken enough photos of her beautiful existence. Of her smile, of her silly faces, of her frowns, of my arms around her.

The wound is too fresh. The news, the words, the phone calls, the tears -- it all feels so surreal. I try to stop myself from doing so, but how hard it is to imagine my reality, to be in this world, without my Inang.