Losing to Time

"Each time on my leaving home
I run back to my mother's arms,
one last hold and then it's over. "

When I was young, I did not believe that time was something that moved in a linear manner. I thought then that time went on forever and that the years recycle such that I can always return to any happy moment that I want. I was about three or four years old then. That was the year I made my first poem, the year I started reading. In short, It was one of the first happy years that I can remember clearly. And that was my happy thought, that the year would return.

This belief was quickly shattered by my Kuya (a cousin, not a brother, as a have none) who told me that my favorite year will never return. I argued with him, even put on a show of my famous tantrums, but of course, it was an argument I never won. He was a teenager at that time and already knew much of the world. I was just a little kid, so I had to admit defeat. I remember crying hard at this discovery. It was one of the first moments of helplessness in my life.

That did not mean that I gave in to time. Until I started being an adult, myself (well, what passes for one, anyway), time was still something I took for granted. I knew I was growing in years, but I felt that time would never run out. I never saw my parents as growing old. In my mind, they would always be the same people who raised me up and saw me through all the scrapes and pains of growing. Yes, I grew up, but I did not see them getting old. I never noticed time passing by for my parents.

But time has a way of creeping up when you're not looking. One day, not quite a long time ago, I looked at my parents and saw grays in their hair. I noticed, too, how their gait seemed to be slowing down, how they were starting to depend on us a little more each day. But, even through their illnesses, I never let time defeat me. So they grew old, big deal, I did, too. In my mind, I still saw my parents as larger than life. Time will never defeat them, I will grow old, but they will live forever. They may get sick. Our roles may be reversed so that I have to take care of them, but they will always be with me. Or so I thought.

"Watching me, you know I cry,
you wave a kiss to say goodbye,
Feel the sky fall down upon me!"

Then one day, when I was not looking, time ran out for my mother. She just went, without having said goodbye. I knew she was sick, but she always got better. She was a fighter. I did not know that she could go so quickly, and so quietly. Once more, I became that helpless kid, crying because she discovered that she was not master of time, after all. I felt blindsided, like a boxer who was knocked out by one unexpected, tragic, blow.

Time would never run backward. I felt robbed of the chance to say goodbye. I found myself hoarding all memories I can of my mother. I searched through old photos, letters, anything at all to keep her with me. Because, hard as it may be, I had to accept she no longer was. Memories are all I have. I will have no more new ones, so I have to store up all the ones I can.

"If only I could stay with you, my train moves on,
you're gone from view,
Now I must wait until it's over. "

So where does that leave me? All my life I had my mother. Now I don’t, at least, not where I could see and touch her. I remember someone once saying that some events have so much impact that it becomes the line that separates events as then and now. This is it for me. Then I had a mother, now I don't. Then she was with me, now she is not. Things either happened when she was here, or after she left.

My mother will no longer be there to walk me to the altar, wearing the red dress I promised her, like I always thought, nor hold my baby in her arms. She will no longer be my textmate and I cannot just pick up the phone and call her. I will not be able to buy her all them Kikay stuff I used to, nor tell her about my travels. She will never take that Bangkok trip with me. What is left is a big blank space, where I will always imagine she should be.

I can feel the void she left our lives. None can fill that. The most we can do is adjust. They say time helps, and time heals. I have always fought time. In this, I will no longer. Time always wins, after, all. My hope is that, this time, time, finally can be my ally.

"Days will pass, your words to me,
it seems so long; eternity,
but I must wait and then it's over."

"Nanay"

1941-2009

"A breath away's not far to where you are..."

(Verses from Enya's Evacuee/Josh Groban's To Where You Are)