Facing the A-hole called Grief

Grief is a horrible feeling, and a traitorous one. Today, I get to be surprised again by its intensity. It’s like a lurking burglar, hoping to catch you off guard and just when you thought you’re safe and secure, it sneaks up on you and drains out all your saved-up energy and strength.

I am busy trying to process our denied Philhealth claims during Levi’s confinement and death last November. It is filed late because of the series of storms we have to undergo even after his death. I am praying that Philhealth will consider our appeal of late filing.  Well, anyway, I have to prepare a lot of documents and go sort out through old files, receipts, etc. One of the requirements is of course, my baby’s death certificate. I had our company driver pick it up at the funeral home.

Levi's birth diploma

When I got home from a meeting, I found it on top of my table, inside a folder. I took one glance and I saw the words—Certificate of Death. And it bore his name. There are stamps, and official-looking signatures on one long sheet of paper. It was just a lone paper. Useless to some. But it had the power to tear my heart open, that one that I tried to sew shut. And it made my knees weak, and my heart starting to pump a bit faster, while my eyes were about to well up with tears. I shook them away and tried to breathe deeper and went on with filing papers.

And then I found his birth diploma. Another slap in the face. I’m sure new mothers are aware what this document is. It must be a very good addition to collages as it bears imprints of the baby’s footprints once born. But to us whose babies didn’t survive, this is just putting thorns in wounds we thought have healed. It’s not meant to be that way. I just couldn’t find the humor in the situation.

Levi's left footprint

So as I said, grief is a very horrible feeling. I saw Levi’s footprints and I traced it with my fingers. These are the only remnants of what he was. He was alive when these prints were made. My heart broke into pieces again and it’s just cruel, you know. That grief that I thought was gone? The same grief that some people would carelessly advice to say, “Let go”. As if it’s that easy. As if it’s that simple. As if.

 And do you know what else grief does? It makes you impulsive. Lito and I just had a misunderstanding about me getting an English bulldog. He doesn’t want one in the house and I was like pushing him for us to get one. He said we don’t have time and he doesn’t want to waste money on dogs and actually taking care of it. Our debate got intense with him asking me what is up with the dog? Why a dog? Why not a toy or something that could be profitable? Why a dog? And I blurted out—Because I don’t have a child!

Snickers- the "displacement" dog

It gave us both a pause. And some thinking.  The dog issue was forgotten but the depths of the truth I just uttered seethes in. I guess in the depths of grief and in the depths of sadness, one just cannot think straight. And when one cannot think straight, when one doesn’t analyze too much—the truth comes out.

So, anyway, I apologize if this is such a forlorn thing to read. Nor it might ignite inspiration and stuff. But I guess, with the onslaught of one storm after the other, I never had the opportunity to grieve. I wasn’t able to face grief in the eye and say, “Back off!” I never did. I was busy trying to hold things together and trying to be strong.

Mother’s Day is coming. So, for now I’m leaving you with some thoughts. Hug your mom and thank them. No matter how awful your relationship is. No matter how different you two are. They may not show you the love you want them to give to you as they are not perfect, they too make mistakes, they too get confused.

I am giving you this challenge because it makes me wonder if I would ever be greeted along with others. I guess I should be. Because I guess I know how it is to be a mother. I was, and I am—from the time I thanked God with the double lines, to the scathing pain I feel up to now of his loss. Mothers grieve differently. They never forget the hurt. They never stop caring. They never stop loving. Yours is an opportunity that so many people like me long to have. Because all I want right now is to get a hug from my child this Mothers’ Day. Sadly, that cannot happen anymore. 

Anyway, in life, there are times that are high and times that are low. This must be one of my lowest. For now, my dear friends, I'm going to bed, cover myself with blanket, cry and succumb to being hurt. I want to be weak, just for this time. It got a bit overdue, but it's time that I get to face this a-hole feeling that we call grief, hopefully, once and for all.