Backtrack 10.2010 : After A Self-Imposed 1 Month Hiatus

This post I accidentally saw in the draft section. It is unfinished though it says a lot about our journey through our recovery. I haven't checked this blog in a while, I must admit. But for some reason, as my son's birthday nears, I felt myself gravitate towards this special blog of his.

Original entry of these thoughts of mine was dated 25 October 2010... exactly one month after our vacation retreat.

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We are back... from a "retreat vacation" we gave ourselves to just get away from it all.

I realized looking through my previous entries that the last time I actually wrote in our son's blog was August. Thinking back now, it was very much intentional. I had my reasons for not doing so and one of them is that I usually feel quite vulnerable expressing my raw emotions in this blog. I couldn't help but feel judged - or worse pitied - by people who follow our journey through this online journal. It almost felt like being naked in front of hundreds of people.

When is personal, too personal? I felt Jhon and I had an obligation to share our experiences in this blog to help others who are also going through the same tasking journey. We felt we had a mission to help. But where do we draw the line?

I never stopped writing, it is my form of release and expression. I still wrote in my personal journal and there I jotted down every emotion I felt without repression. I was free to be me.

Though I felt this little blog of Marcus shouldn't stop with entries of only sadness and grief. There should be progress. People and parents going through their own grief should be told that there is light at the end of the tunnel. That eventually life will get better again. This precise entry is just about that.

This is our story - at least from my point of view - of our one month journey to real recovery. A milestone.

When September came and the topic of my birthday came up, I suggested to Jhon that maybe a weekend away would be fabulous. The thought of just disappearing far away from the chaotic city life sounded very enticing to us. We collectively agreed that we were finally ready to travel and that was a good sign, it was progress on our part.

We eventually realized that a weekend away just did not seem enough time to recover from all the stress we were experiencing. So why not a full month then? And so we did.

We needed a break. We needed a totally different  atmosphere. So Jhon and I (together with Lola Talula) packed our bags and headed to a tiny island paradise that is called Boracay. There we rented a beautiful apartment atop a mountain, the highest peak of the island away from the tourist crowd and noisy party scene. It was our place of Zen for one month.

We found the peace we did not know we were craving for and greatly needed all this time. The setup God blessed us with was the perfect scenery for a personal retreat. Just to be able to hear yourself think and listen to your own thoughts was precious. 

Jhon and I agreed that we had to detach ourselves from everything we got accustomed to in the city. We took great effort into forgetting about technology and that included cellphones and the internet. We barely even watched television. 

We immersed ourselves in books about self-realization and reflection. After 4 years from the first time I read Your Best Life Now by Joel Osteen I began my retreat by reading this inspirational book from cover to cover. Little did I know that by reading this book I will reach the pinnacle of my recovery. I am forever changed.

To be blessed with a spectacular view that we wake up to every morning aided us even further. Everyday, we get up and are greeted by the beauty of nature in all its glory... the favor of God. I couldn't help but be thankful of each passing day. It was pretty hard to ignore each day that we were blessed with and it made me see the beauty of life once again. I was still very much missing my baby Marcus though now I was seeing him in the beauty of nature. I felt him in the gorgeous sea breeze, I saw him in the turquoise blue waters, in the blue skies, the green mountain tops. I confidently felt that he wanted us to be better, he wanted us to be happy again. He reassured me that he is happy and at peace in every rainbow we see.

A reminder

It's been months since I last put my thoughts and feelings into writing. Most especially when I miss Marcus.  To be honest, I miss it. Nowadays, I've been quite preoccupied putting together a new business venture brought about Marcus' Love. Truthfully, I enjoy every minute of what I am doing right now, thanks to my baby boy. I can feel success just over the horizon. A project with a purpose and meaning.

As I go about my day, preparing for another work week, I find myself in a quiet room. I sit in front of the altar where we place Marcus' picture and Urn with his ashes. Beside me is our lovely little puppy Lola. She has kept me company all day, right on the couch as we wait for her mama to return home. I picked up on a favorite book we used to read while going through the process, "Born to Fly."

As I read on, my eyes felt cloudy, chest becomes tight, tears fall, feels like yesterday. The only difference I guess is that I am not sad, I just miss him.  I like feeling this way once in while because I feel like I reconnect with my Marcus. I often pray and ask that he would visit me in my dreams. Just cannot get enough of his handsome face that I want to see him even in my sleep.

Not a day goes by that I do not think about my son, I believe that every an hour or so Marcus enters my heart and mind at least once. Lately, many challenges and trials have been put upon us. Yet, I do not despair for this too will pass. Why? Because I have faith and hope that everything will turn out right. My son ever being so close to God, reminds me every step of the way to be patient and focus. Instantly, I feel better.

I feel so fortunate to have my son watching us everyday. Though there will be more challenges and trials, I'm not afraid because I am surrounded by love. I am forever grateful, you inspire me everyday my son. Papa is a better person because of you. Thank you for always reminding Papa. I love you dearly my boy!

My Mama's Day Special

Yesterday was my day. I was more happy than sad to celebrate Mama's Day. I am proud to be a mother. The gift of being a mother is a definite treasure to me. Bittersweet, yes, though I embraced the day because yesterday, my little angel Marcus greeted me a very Happy Mother's Day.

How did my day start?

I slept in - for I went to bed just about when the sun was rising. I stayed up all night reading my new book The Good Grief Club by Monica Novak. I am appreciating this book so far. The emotional and raw feelings of loss by these 7 women who eventually became friends, brought together by the same unfortunate experiences, keeps me in 'positive' touch of my own emotions.

As I read the preface, I felt immediately in tuned and somewhat comforted with this excerpt:

I found no comfort in being a statistic. Where I drew comfort, however, was from knowing that someone else on this planet understood my intense pain, the indescribable feelings of helplessness and loss. I drew comfort from knowing that other people had survived following the death of their own child, eventually finding happiness and purpose in their lives again.

Somehow, no matter how empathic a person - and I really do appreciate the empathy - if one has not lost a child, it is not conceivably possible to dig deep enough and feel the intense grief we bear for losing our baby. It truly takes one to know one.

I could not put the book down. I believe I will finish reading this one in no time.

Now back to my Mama's Day special...

Surprise Gift No. 1:

Around mid-morning while still very much in deep sleep, I can hear Jhon typing away on the laptop. I left him to do whatever it was he was busy concocting. My unconscious mind dreams away.

I was dreaming what seems to be a typically irrelevant dream. The kind that you won't even remember by the time you open your eyes. Even now, as I try my best to recall the dream, I do not succeed. But as I was nearing the end of this 'forgettable' dream, the story shifts.

All of a sudden I was transported to my elementary school campus. I was standing at the huge quadrangle while hundreds of little girls, lined up by the exposed corridors, sing and dance in a well-choreographed, consistent motion. They were all smiling and giddy. Much like enthusiastic choir members performing in front of a big crowd. Then almost instantaneously they ended their act, and altogether pointed to the sky with their arms extended diagonally upward.

I turned to the direction they pointed and there it was... the cutest, most innocent and child-like character one could put together.

The animated character resembled and looked to me like Gumbie, this children's character on television made out of clay. He was wearing some kind of a cowboy outfit complete with fringed leather pants and matching cowboy hat. He was smiling directly at me. It felt like the friendliest smile ever. I could not help but smile back.

Then just when he got my full attention, he endearingly uttered, "I love you Mama."

While still very much asleep I knew, it was my baby Marcus, coming to me in my dream, greeting me.

He made the Gumbie character especially for me. The same way a child would draw pictures for their parents as gifts. My baby Marcus gave me a cowboy clay figure for Mama's Day.

My heart was overwhelmed with joy that he visited me in my dream. He spoke to me and told me he loves me!

My dream was over before I knew it. His visit was quick yet very powerful. It was the first time my Marcus came to me in my dreams. I opened my eyes and I started to weep.

My baby visited me! My baby knew it was Mama's Day and gave me the most precious gift. He knew this day was going to be hard for me. He made sure I started my day with a special gift from him. I felt so lucky. It was truly my special day.

I kept on repeating the dream in my head, trying my best to etch the memory permanently and make it last forever. I never want to forget. Only I know how truly special it was.

What else could I ask for?

Surprise Gift No. 2:

Jhon went in the room when he heard I was awake. I told him about my dream. He comforted me until I could control my tears. Then he eagerly showed me my second gift.

He sincerely told me how unskilled he usually is with writing poems. But then he showed me what he just wrote. He proudly announced that - Marcus wrote me a poem.

The blog entry wrote, A Message for Mama...

My tears started to again fall though I did not feel depleted because for the second time yesterday I was crying happy, grateful tears.

It was obvious how Jhon wanted to make my Mama's Day extra special. I can just imagine how difficult it was to make me feel special without pushing those sensitive buttons. I belong to a unique group of mothers. The littlest things can trigger uncontrollable feelings of grief even though the intent is sincere. Jhon knew exactly how to make the day right for me.

Surprise Gift No. 3:

Just after lunch, I could tell Jhon was feeling anxious. I knew he was waiting for something to arrive. He did a great job making me feel anxious too. He knew how I liked getting surprises so he made sure I knew something was coming.

At around 3 p.m. it arrived, the most special bouquet of roses I've ever received. He said it was from baby Marcus and Lola Talula. The arrangement was gorgeous. Jhon knew precisely what I wanted. I could not ask for anything more.

Even Lola got into the Mama's Day spirit. She was very cooperative while I took photos of her with the roses. She too loved the roses very much, she could not stop sniffing them.

I made sure I rearranged the beautiful roses appropriately to fit my baby Marcus' sanctuary.

I made it a point to take enough shots of my special roses. Ample enough that I had to make a slideshow of it so I could properly show it off. I created it to express my thanks for Jhon's sweetest gesture. I am definitely loved.

Surprise Gift No. 4:

Today, Mama's Day Part 2, Jhon gave me my current favorite cake. Mary Grace's (Red) Velvet Cake. Yum!

He wrote a card that said:

To: Mama

Happy Mother's Day! You are the best Mama in the whole world! We love you very much!

From: Baby Marcus and Lola Talula

Need I say more?

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I never expected anything for Mother's Day. I did not want to be patronized. I would accept greetings only if they were extended wholeheartedly. The last thing I wanted was pity. Call me snooty but that was how I truly felt.

Jhon, Marcus, and Talula perfected my very special Mama's Day.

My ingredients for my very special Mama's Day recipe:

- 1 part Papa Jhon

- 1 part baby Marcus

- 1 part Lola Talula

- 1 very special I Love You Mama greeting

- 1 utterly sweet poem from Marcus (written by Papa Jhon)

- 1 perfect bouquet of long-stemmed roses

- 2 delectable red velvet cakes (Mary Grace style)

- a whole lot of Love

I am a Mama loved.

The Silver Cord

As I near the end of my book The Grieving Garden, I came across a section of the book which talks about "Continuing the connection." Here, parents discuss different ways wherein they continue to connect with their child.

I couldn't help but think to myself, "what a timely way to start reading that particular section." Just a couple of days ago, my son visited me in my dreams for the first time. He showed himself the age he would be right now, roughly two and half months. The dream went on like this:

Jet and I were laying down in bed, having just woken up. Marcus was brought in by his nanny and placed him sandwiched between Jet and I. He was smiling, moving about actively. His eyes gazed upon mine just like his Mama would. How handsome. Then I placed him on his Mama's chest where he would try and lift his head. I said to myself, "Wow you're so strong, at your age you're trying to lift your head already." I reached out for his tiny hands, where he clenched and held on to my finger with the tightest and strongest of grips. Marcus not only took on his Mama's good looks but her strength as well.

He was so happy, we were so happy. The dream was short but sweet. My son is doing great, he's happy, strong, and healthy. I couldn't ask for more. He reassured me that he never left us. His eyes told me that he's watching us all the time. That dream gave me the much needed comfort, especially from the deep grief I experienced the day before, where I just let go and cried because I missed him terribly.

I believe that the bond between my son and I will never be severed. I know he will always be there to remind me that he loves us and is guiding us always. We have an ongoing relationship, where the author's of The Grieving Garden described as an "etherial tie, that links parent to child in life and beyond death, the Silver Cord."

New Identity

"Identity: also called sameness, is whatever makes an entity definable and recognizable."

The sound of "Papa and Mama" brought immeasurable happiness to our hearts. Just the thought of our son calling us by such is incomparable to any other name that one could be identified.

It feels like just yesterday when I found out I was going to be a father. I still consider myself as one and I will always be, even though our Marcus could not be with us here on earth. There will always be an emptiness in my heart, and an eternal sadness that Jet and I would be carrying with us for the rest of lives.

How do people who do not know us nor who do not know our son Marcus identify us? It's been a little over two months and yet I'm still unsure of how to deal with people. As I read my book The Grieving Garden, I come to realize some issues that parents who lost their child have to deal with, these are the same issues Jet and I go through everyday.

The one that struck me the most is the fact that, we who have lost a child have no word in which to identify us. As one parent said,

"There is no word for a person who has lost a child. There should be, because I feel that in many ways it is the most central thing about who I am."

This is exactly how we feel. We are not the type to solicit pity or are in need of preferential treatment, but how do we tell people? If these people are going to be an integral part of our lives, then they deserve to know that we are parents who have a lost a child. I can lose my head pretty quickly if people have the inability to react, respond, or take in what it means to be a parent who is grieving the loss of child.

Why is it that there are no words to describe parents like us? One could be called a "widow or widower" if they lost their husband or wife. A child could be called an "orphan," after losing his or her parents. Does this mean our society does not put importance when it comes to this issue? I feel like like we are exposed and vulnerable every time we have to say "our son died." At the same time, I feel a protective instinct inside me not to expose my Marcus to those dreaded words.

It's very difficult to approach a friend or an acquaintance, and be confronted by the question "how are you guys?" It's hard enough to answer the question when a dear friend or family member asks, but it's even more difficult when I'm unsure if the person I'm facing knows our story. I often run this scenario in my head, and sad to say I have no answer. This is precisely why we choose to stay home, where we are protected and not have the need to divulge information.

We are fortunate still to be surrounded by family and friends who understand, but the fact remains, most people won't understand. Our lives will never be the same, but we can cling to the hope that one day we will see our Marcus in heaven. This is who Jet and I are now, we are parents and we are proud to be but we are also parents who lost our Baby Marcus, but we will forever be "Papa and Mama."