Memories
| Miriam |
On The Death Of The Beloved |
March 14, 2014 |
On The Death Of The Beloved
— John O’Donohue
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul’s gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
Our paths crossed towards the end of 1999 when I met Julius (Daddy's youngest son). Since day one, it was Daddy who to me had always been kind and had made me feel comfortable like I was already a part of their family. I remember when I first stepped onto the Saint Dominic 6 home, he was sitting on a chair (not yet the rocking one) and of course watching TV like, I would later on find out, he does most of his free time. He didn’t know or ask who I was, yet was already very accommodating and warm in letting me inside their home. When Julius and I got together in 2000, I already had a strong feeling that I was getting into a very endearing family, just by looking at both Mommy and Daddy, how they relate with other family members and friends, and of course by how they treat each other – by how Daddy made Mommy laugh with his funny comments and by how Mommy would still laugh when he got “pikon” by her teasing. I think they truly enjoyed each other’s company. They were retired and together most of the time, and I guess it was laughter in their marriage that kept their day to day lives blissful and exciting.
We will miss Daddy for the usual hullabaloo about his obsession with Bingo. He had always defended it to be his pastime, something that kept him entertained and happy. Despite the frequent losses, he still managed to treat us with stuff like pizza or give balato cell phone loads to the maids on the very few times he got lucky.
We will miss him whenever we get to watch a movie at Eastwood, where he loved the comfort of the fancy cinemas especially when they showed action-packed movies that he liked to watch. Add up to that the times when we ate out in his favorite Chinese restaurants like Superbowl of China or San Jacinto, and how he would often have to take a cup of tea or coffee after a heavy meal.
I will miss him for that time I remember when I had a visa interview at the US embassy and he was all excited to know what happened. Just a few hours after Julius and I drove off from the embassy where I failed to get the visa and was still sobbing about it, Daddy had right away called us up from his cell phone just to find out how things turned out with me.
I will miss him for the times when we’d have to meet up with relatives, because then, Daddy would warmly invite me and inform me with all the details about where we’d go, what we’d do there, what time we’d leave and come back, who will be there -- even if I was not yet officially a “Paner” then.
I will miss him for the times when Julius would expressly get mad at me for things like being slow or late, or when I did something wrong to him -- and Daddy would readily defend me against him.
I will miss him for the times he would joke us around. One time, while Julius was not around and the family was sitting on the dining table and were discussing about our then upcoming wedding, he blurted out and referred to me as “the future Mrs. Paner” to which until now gives me a blush-y feeling that hangs between being flattered and embarrassed.
I will never forget him when he was lying on his CCU bed at the Philippine Heart Center -- the last bed he would lie on -- and Julius and I told him to get well soon because they would still have to come to our home for the pamamanhikan. Despite the obstacle of ventilation tubes, he managed a delicate but clear smile, and gave us the thumbs-up sign. We hoped and believed he would really get well and be there on that day, but sadly, he wasn't.
Daddy lived a complete and a happy life. Now as I look back, I see that he had been ready to pass on anytime. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but I suppose he tried, together with Mommy, and raised his children well enough to leave them with happy memories of a loving family. And though at the end he didn’t have the exact flashy cars and gadgets he always talked about and dreamed of, his evident wealth lay in the music of his violin shared with a lot of people, in his family, his friends – mainly because he was well-loved by many, including me who wasn’t yet even by affinity related to him at that time.
I hate to finish writing this memoir lest I might have left out something. There’s no guarantee it comprehensively and completely covers my experience of him when he was still alive. But maybe it’s enough to know that our hearts -- Julius and mine –- will always remember the warm and happy memories that we had the honor to have shared with Daddy.
The Dash
I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of his friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the second with tears,
but he said that what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth,
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard,
are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at "dash mid-range.")
If we could just slow down enough
to consider what's true and real,
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read
with your life's actions to rehash...
would you be pleased with the things they have to say
about how you spent your dash?
Linda Ellis
From: Miriam Nebres [mailto:miriamnebres@hotmail.com]
Sent: Sunday, August 13, 2006 9:10 PM
Subject: The Dash Movie
Hi everyone! One of the hardest things to do when someone you love dies is getting back to reality. I'm still struggling with the fact that I cannot talk to my Dad on the phone anymore (among other things). I have been meaning to start a memorial website for him but my current reality keeps me sooooo busy to even spend time to do that without guilt and interruptions (never mind the tears, I love doing that anyway...very cathartic). I wanted lots of "alone" moments to do this but it's next to impossible. So, I will have to settle with "alonettes" (my little "alone" moments). Here's something I wanted to share with all of you who are part of the world of people I love. I wish I was the one who thought of and made this and I can dedicate it to my Dad. Well, I'm sending this to you in honor of my Dad.
Some Comforting Words...
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the mornings hush
I am the soft uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there
I did not die
-Anonymous
Total Memories: 7
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