Journeys
Back to my roots
I must admit things have not been the same for me since my late husband left Troy, Yehlen and me first week of January 2006. I felt the heavens fell, my world crumbled and each day was a downpour despite the scorching heat of the summer months that followed. I felt all the stresses in my entire life combined paled in comparison to this one single negative event that I was not able to get over with soon enough.
Since my husband got hospitalized first in October 2005 then passed away in January 6, 2006 and one year thereafter, I was able to set foot in my hometown, Buenavista, in the island province of Guimaras only once. That was an official trip, I had to perform a duty. Other than that trip, there was no other, and even in that particular trip I did not drop by our house (actually owned by my parents). I just cannot imagine myself going back to my hometown, my roots, without my husband with me. I felt so incomplete, there was that feeling of nothingness, a vacuum both inside and outside of me.
That summer trip in 2006 to El Retiro, was an inspection trip to the place for accreditation purposes. I went with two colleagues from the office, Bern and Reda, and inspected several resorts in Buenavista. We passed by Navalas Catholic Parish Church, along the way to and from El Retiro Resort. It is my parish church, where I was baptized. Built in 1885 of coral rock and sandstone, it is the oldest Catholic church in Guimaras. It is where my husband served as part of the core group of lay church workers during the last two years of his mortal life. Although it was a sad revisit for me, I was some kind of glad also to see once more my husband's colleagues. He was one of them in their church activities every Sunday of his last two years.
The year 2006 was the longest year of my life. How about spending all the special occasions and holidays of the year without your dearly beloved spouse beside you for the first time after almost 27 years? Certainly, I missed many things about him but what I have been missing most is the company and the friendship in marriage. I got depressed, felt so inadequate. I refused to let go, I refused to move on. It was as if I was punishing myself so that everything about the blissful 27 years of company, friendship and marriage would forever stay fresh in my memory. I just refused to have it all done and over with.
God is the greatest Healer. He knows all the ways to heal a weary soul, mend a broken heart, soothe a frayed nerve and reconstruct broken dreams. God alone knows how to provide the right people who can facilitate the healing process. My DOT6 family, my boss Edwin and my co-workers and my "other families" at CPU, John B. Lacson-Molo and USA all helped provide the healing atmosphere for me, whether they realized it or not. A Good Shepherd's Fold Academy high school classmate with whom I spent four happy years just popped up from nowhere to say hello, has since been communicating and, maybe unconsciously, helped a great deal in my coping.
I've been back to my roots at least four times to this day after 12 months since that fateful January 6, 2006 morning. The trips were on January 7 for the year-after bungkag lalaw mass, March 25 for the blessing of a holy statue owned by the family of Mr. Romeo Sagre and his wife, Letty, April 6-Good Friday Pagtaltal sa Daan Banwa and April 22 fiesta of Brgy. Bangkiling. I thank the Guzman-Sagre families for the hospitality extended to my children and me during the last three visits. Most especially, I thank Mrs. Ma. Elena Clementir for the gracious accommodation in her house.
I am looking forward to more trips back to my hometown, back to my roots. I intend to take the trips more often now, even if I do them alone. I must let go of the past and embrace the future with a stronger resolve. Perhaps, this is how my life's journey is meant to be. I must move on if I have to survive. Let the happy chapters of the immediate past be part of a memory that I will cherish forever. But I have to let a new chapter begin.
The journey begins again. Yes, the journey back to my hometown, back to my roots. Surely, back to where my heart belongs.