Monday, August 28, 2006


WHAT ABOUT LOVE?

“Fate led you straight to me; you came and suddenly
I was weak beyond control, I had given you my soul…
My life was no longer mine….

I love you more than life itself,
I wouldn’t love anyone else,
I’ve tried to stop myself so many times,
It hurt me….

A love like ours, where can it go?
I must be strong, ‘coz now I know…
It’s wrong for me to stay and love you…

When life won’t let love grow
It has no place to go…
So you tell yourself be strong
When the world tells you you’re wrong
‘Coz life has the final say….”

- theme from “Butterfly”, the film

Does this song cause a twitch in your heart? If it does, you might have been in a relationship others might term as being “doomed from the start” because of some “handicap” in one’s civil, physical, emotional or social status.

They say that the best thing that can a happen to a person is to love and be loved. Love has many forms, but the most celebrated is romantic love. Unlike familial love which is constant, static, and unconditional, romantic love has many forms and faces, and usually encountered more than once in one’s lifetime. Some are pretty fortunate for having ended up with their “true love”, the one that they desired and wed; others might have tried to pursue the object of their affection, but might have ended up having a love unrequited. Still others, despite all odds, opted to fight for a love that is forbidden, one that is against the norm, and unacceptable by any standards.

In all aspects of romantic love, there is the object of one’s affection, the one that is being pursued. This object might be the embodiment of one’s ideal, or simply a reflection of oneself, or the part that would finally complete the puzzle called “self”. The “pursuer” is one who offers his/her affection, or his/her self. In most cases, the object and pursuer are well-defined. But in some, the object becomes clueless to the pursuits of the pursuer, and only finds he/she is trapped in the web called love, a little too late. In rare cases, the pursuer had no intentions of pursuing, but circumstances led them to dance to the prelude called friendship, which naturally led to the complexities of the symphony called love.

The reasons for loving is as varied as the species of crustaceans in the ocean, and its effect as addictive as raw tuna bathed in sauce with wasabe. Once drowned in love’s calm and alternately stormy sea, there is no turning back. One may try to fight it, rein it, or simply ignore it, but just like water, it simply flows to find its own level.

And what about forbidden love? If love were a sculpture, Venus de Milo would aptly represent the forbidden kind - it is a thing of beauty - eternal and ethereal – but disfigured. But just the same, it is a true work of art, one that comes from the heart, and formed by the Master’s touch.

These are my random (and initial) thoughts about love. There will never be enough blogs to unravel “love”, the most fascinating, encompassing, and absorbing mystery of all time – definitely life’s greatest gift.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

“Angel”

Come September 23, it will be one year since Angel has passed away. Life has not been the same since the day she was gone.

Angel came into our quiet lives eight years ago, bringing sunshine and joy, quite unassumingly. Her quietness and constant solitude alternate with her playfulness, and happy disposition in the company of familiar faces. Her sweetness is inspiring, and her mere presence can turn a ho-hum day into a lively one, effortlessly. She is an effective antidote to stress, a live Prozac.

Angel gave me an opportunity to discover things about my loved ones and myself, which I wouldn’t have otherwise known under normal circumstances. Thru her, I learned that my only brother is such a sweet and caring person (much more than I imagined), and prone to favoritism (!). I discovered that my father, who used to shun misbehaving and restless kids (no matter how cute and cuddly they might be), has a soft spot for playful and intermittently quiet beings. And my mom, oh how she would call Angel sweetly, so in contrast with the way she sometimes snarls at my father for the pettiest things.

Angel was a welcome presence during times when an unwelcome suitor would drop by the house. As if knowing I needed better company, she would cuddle up to me as if on cue, and the unwanted visitor would soon realize there’s not enough space for the three of us. And during occasional times when my father and brother had to verbalize their dislike for one another’s actuations, Angel’s innocent and piercing stare, so similar to that of a gentle teacher catching her ward scratch crayons on the white wall, would somehow tone down the raging hostility. Mommy’s solitary moments, mostly not by choice, were delightfully disrupted by Angel’s constant prodding for “belly scratches”. Angel’s company truly saved the day in many instances, regarded then as trivial, but considered now as precious and terribly missed.

For seven blissful years, we enjoyed Angel’s presence. In her seventh year, Angel has started to show signs of deterioration. Her skin began to disintegrate, at the slightest presence of an irritant. Her vision blurred, and with it came the other annoying effects of vertigo. It broke our hearts seeing Angel go in circles, endlessly, until she had to stop because of excessive dizziness. She tried to drink and eat, we could sense, but the pain she might have felt in her throat could be that unbearable. Oh how my heart bled seeing tears in her eyes. And seeing my brother, her closest friend, suffer silently and feign bravery, shred my soul. I haven’t seen him that devastated, not even when our old house was burned to ground zero in 2002.

The fateful day came, a day everyone expected but denied deep inside. Angel was with my brother to accompany him in his office, as she always did. On the way, she breathed her last, while she lay on my brother’s lap. I didn’t know how my brother was able to reach home, with his Angel, now literally one.

As tradition dictated, Angel was laid to rest, and on the ninth day after her death, we gathered and had a special dinner in her honor. Every now and then, we would stare at her pictures, and videos – if only she could see how her presence bonded the family. I have let her go but my brother is still slowly learning how to. She has left a soft spot in my heart, and in my brother’s, a gaping hole.

September 23 is a few weeks away, and on that day we will surely look back at the joys of having Angel and the pain of finally letting her go.

We miss you dear Angel!

Sunday, August 20, 2006


LOVE LETTERS

Letters that warm the heart are by far one of life's greatest rewards,
Behind each written word is a thought that comes from the heart.
But missives written specially for one's lost love,
Breathe a life of its own, cast a spell on the bard.

Seasons shall pass, and so shall passion subside;
But words written on the brittle, faded papyrus shall forever abide
In one's deepest psyche, where forlorn thoughts dwell,
To be unleashed at a time, only fate can tell.

Unexpected occassions, unbridled emotions,
Let loose a trove of memories...and long forgotten passions;
Words written on paper, are etched on the heart,
A potent source of inspiration when hope is shattered
.....and almost gone.

Saturday, August 19, 2006


SUNSET IN BATANES

Nothing beats the serenity and grandeur of a sunset, especially when viewed from a rolling hill overlooking the calm ocean. It is being at peace with oneself, with the world, and with God.