continuouslyhoping-blog

[continuouslyhoping-blog]

A Title for My Life

So, I recently made an account here on Tumblr. I will be posting a text that was recently uploaded on my Launchora account but I realized that the website is not suitable to be my diary so I decided to create an account here on Tumblr. 

I don't even know how to start. This will only be the first time I would tell a story this late at night. It's 11:09 pm here in the Philippines, February 9, 2018, just a day after my grandmother's passing. This might be one of those unforgettable days in my entire existence. My mind won't accept the fact that my grandmother's gone. She is not just a grandmother to me, but a hero. She filled my childhood days with love and care.

 When I was a little kid, I used to be in their house by lunch, then eat and then stay for the whole afternoon, watching cartoons and one of my favorite was entitled, "Courage, the Cowardly Dog." By 3 o'clock in the afternoon, grandma would usually buy either pancit, bihon, spaghetti, ginatan or even sweet banana cue for snacks. Sometimes, I complain because she gives me too much food for my stomach. I would also make fuss about the meal, if it isn't my type. There will never be  a day that my tongue won't taste anything. When grandma's there, I will never be hungry.

Maybe that's why, I am not the malnourished child anymore. I'm even healthier than my sisters.

I have a complicated family, actually it was on my father's side. My father's mother was the one I mentioned above. My mother's mother died way back in 2009 due to liver failure. Actually, I feel sad for my mother. When her days back then were filled with grief and sorrow, we were not with her. We were just a child, we still do not know anything, nor take anything seriously. When my grandmother on my mother's side died, I didn't cry. Not a tear fell. But then when I grew up, just us how the tears should flush, I cried. Hard. But silently, I cried like a person whispering, not wanting anybody to hear. Asking for forgiveness for throwing away everything and for never sending my deepest gratitude towards her sacrifices. And I know, it is hard to understand. I told you, it's complicated. We have done something that will surely be unforgivable.

Going back to my grandmother's death, February 8, 2018, It was late 11 o'clock in the morning when I got home from E-mall, after doing something for our research and after eating, I went home immediately. I was about to open the door when suddenly, I felt a heavy feeling. The past few days, it was unusual for my family to go out altogether, except for my mother who's working everyday, nonetheless, no one walks out of the house. When I opened the door, I headed to the kitchen table and saw two unmoved plates, with rice and our favorite, 'tinola'. It was a doubtful setting. The plate wasn't moved at all. No portion of the food was eaten. And then, I don't know what to do. I started getting hints. I opened my Facebook account and saw the post, I wasn.t expecting to read. My grandmother died 2 hours before I went home. I couldn't accept the fact that I wasn't there. That I was late. My tears started flowing. I cried siilently. So silent that all I could ever hear were the noise from the mice in the kitchen. When I finally got over with the current situation, I waited for my sister to reply to my messages on Messenger. I don't know where should I head. Then, she took a bath and we went to my grandma's house.

That same day, by about 6:00 in the evening, I was shocked with the news that my father had an attack due to his high blood pressure. I couldn't help but feel pity for him. My sisters were so hard on him. I talk to him casually, (actually like a parent) disagreeing to him, telling him what is right but I never had spit harsh words. Maybe I had badmouthed him once but only in my mind. I have lots of resentment for being his daughter, and for him being my father. When I was still in my old self, all I did was speak about him to God, about his wrongdoings and about the roles he never had portrayed as a father but then when I've reached this stage, I started to realize that I can't truly appreciate everything because we didn't know what sacrifices he did for us when we were still a child. I may think that he's being childish but I think for the rest of his life, he wanted to enjoy being free. There are times when I can't understand him no matter how I try to absorb everything. My father isn't the tactful type. He speaks everything that he wanted to say. May it be silly jokes or nonsense things. By those words that he say everyday, I didn't know that was a sign. I just realized right now. His slurred speech, sometimes we can't comprehend, the way he walks (which I thought was his acting because he acts childish all the time or acting because he don't want to do house work). I didn't know that was a sign. February 8, 2018 just as after grandmother's passing, my father attended a medical mission at City Hall and was brought to the hospital due to a sudden attack. That date would be the worst. I will always mark it as the worst day of every year.

Right now, I can't tell anyone. Not even my friends. I can't tell them how I feel. As much as possible, I want to show them that I'm strong but in times like this, fake attitude won't work at all. In times like this, no matter how I try being independent, or brave, my weakness will show. It was like a fire in an empty vacuum. No matter how hard it remains alive, the fire won't stand, because it was its surroundings that makes her not to. My best friends don't even know how I feel. Just as what I've observed to my father, they won't see the hints, the sign, that I am sad. That I am faking my laughs and smiles. I don't want to bother anyone with my problems. God is remaining silent, so am I. I hope my father recovers immediately because I can't take the pain that I feel whenever I see him. 

I hope things like this won't last. I just want to have a healthy family, away from problems and sufferings. 

I hope no one would ask me. I hope no one would dare to ask me questions that I don't want to hear, that I am tired of answering. That won't change anything. It'll just bring me down.