On the Dot
Moving on
It's been a while since I wrote a piece for this column. It's been a while since the world seemed to have stopped for me and my children Troy and Yehlen. It's been a while since I lost, Rudy, my husband of 26 years, 4 months, 2 weeks and 4 days. His passing away was, is and forever will be the most painful experience in my entire life. I must admit I was hit where it hurt the most, where I am most vulnerable. Grief is bottomless, noiseless, never time-bound.
Women who still have their husband with them cannot relate with this experience. Neither those who hate their husband for one reason or another they wish their husband dead, are estranged from their husband or left their husband for another man would even know the meaning of separation from a beloved husband. Those who have been through what I'm going through would understand perfectly what I mean. My husband and I made plans and when we planned, the contingency of death that may come anytime was never considered. When one is in love he/she sees and feels only immortality and nothing else. The years are short and blissful. They're not meant to be spoiled by thoughts of death -- not even in one's wildest dreams.
January 6, 2006 shall always be a painful memory. It was the day relatives and friends cried a river, so to speak. Hours before that, I asked God, "how many more years would You add to my own life? Thirty- five years? Forty? Thirty? Twenty? Can, You, please give one half of that to my husband?" God must love Rudy much more than I do. The Almighty did not want to add a day more of pain to his mortal body.
On March 15, 2006 it shall have been two months since my beloved husband's remains were laid to the final resting place. As I look back painfully, I feel so gifted with the blessing my children and I found in people and institutions who expressed their sympathy in their own kind and thoughtful ways. You all know who you are and what you did for me and my children during our darkest moments.
Events like death of a loved one once more affirm that life is a journey, a tour, a trip through time with death as the time to return to place of origin as in a tour itinerary. Death is end of the tour. For those left behind, it's like going on a tour themselves and being caught in a traffic jam before they, too, will finally return to origin sooner or later. Who travel with us through this traffic jam matter the most. After all, they are the people who really matter. Thank God, they are the ones who not only help us cope but, importantly, move on with our tour itinerary.
To whom it may concern - a million thanks. With your help Troy, Yehlen and I have coped and are moving on.