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I've
got a story
Living within my heart
I'll share this to the world around.
A story greater than Romeo and Juliet.
More Historical than Adam and Eve.
A love story of me & Edward.
 The
classroom was being noisy when he first entered the room. He had piercing,
deep-set eyes that looked away from everyone else, as if to tell bystanders
to mind their own business. He had a blue shirt on, blue mass-colored jeans,
and Florsheim loafers. And he stood there in front of us, I stared into
his eyes and knew, as early as November 1992, that I was lost forever.
"Those
are the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen," I whispered as I elbowed
my seatmate who, before I could say anything else, agreed.
This is the
start of the story of a man named Edward,
a stranger to most but an angel to the few fortunate souls whose lives
he touched. Here I will attempt in my inadequate mortal way, to describe
to you the way he managed to turn my world upside-down, among other things.
Of course, I know that my efforts will remain futile as it is impossible
to illustrate the complexity and greatness his personality so possessed.
Or the kind of love the two of us shared.
Ours were always
casual encounters at first, although we knew the day we first met that
we would never be ourselves again after that. But it was always hit-or-miss
, because he was a young bachelor just about to start his career in the
academe and I, at the height of my adolescent mischief of having a busy
social schedule and then unappreciated writing skills. To him I was just
the carefree, shallow-minded teenager who knew nothing of pain and suffering,
and to me (being five years younger) he was this wise, poetic and driven
genius who thought too much.
It wasn't until
February 1993 that we finally spoke to each other. We were on our class
field trip and he got angry with my best friend and I for embarrassing
him in front of a hundred or so of his students by making a commotion about
his flirting with me. The night of reprimanding soon transformed into a
night Edward and I used to remember quite fondly. We sat on the steps of
the dormitory we were staying in, and talked about our lives until four
in the morning. It was the start of our dreaming.
We had our lives
to worry about, and being his student, we had to wait until the semester
ended before getting deeper into what we were both feel. One day in April
of that year, while sipping from the bottles of coke in the nearby dormitory
canteen, Edward (the silly guy he was *grins*) cleared his throat and asked
me to marry him in five years time. I hid my shock and disbelief (borne
of the fact that I was young then) and (the silly girl that I was) at 17
, I smiled and said "Yes."
Edward was romatic
to the marrow, that is deeper than the bone. Before I even knew it, he
had the wedding date planned and the food at the reception listed down
according to the tastes of our friends and relatives. He was a dreamer.
I had not even begun to take his proposal seriously, and he had already
dreamed up the family we were to have.
There were many
times that I could no longer take the pressure of being in a "secret" relationship
with the man I loved and adored, and in numerous instances I would call
our relationship quits and he would always let me go in coolness. He would
call me coward, a scaredy-cat, and a chicken because I was "running away
from the reality that was "us." On June 16, 1994 - my birthday - he gave
me a book in celebration of my "banishing him from the rest of my life,"
as he would to say, and the dedication read : "This kind of certainty
comes only once in a lifetime, no matter how many lifetimes you live. Only
death or insanity can ever change our future."
I was too young
then to understand what he said, and I shrugged it off as one of his romantic
bursts of emotion until a few months later, when he called me up and begged
me to answer " just one question." I geared up how the most
sarcastic remark of my life and the things that make my heart go flip-flop,
but the question he asked caught me off guard. He asked : "Where
did you buy your socks?" I laughed so hard I fell off my chair
and I knew there was no turning back. I was going to love him for the rest
of my life.
Life with Edward
is one of the sweetest pleasures I've ever known. He took care of every
single thing that I needed, from food to money to clothing - believe me
on a private sector employee's salary that wasn't easy - as well as my
emotional stability. We were both hardworking driven and extremely competitive
beings - and although we treated the rest of the world as if they were
just pieces of canine excreta in our lives, we would look at each other
every single day, and we knew we would measly nothing on the face of the
planet without each other.
In the meantime,
I absorbed his little details like a sponge. I would speak like him, dress
like him, and even became dyslexic like he was, and then I also became
a dreamer.
Soon, enough, we had plans for the next 20 years of our
lives, starting with a simple wedding ceremony on December 8, 1998.
We named our kids, planned our family and even made a blueprint for what
was to be our family home. I mimicked our future conversations with our
children, about life, love, sex, religion, homesexuality, politics, and
perhaps everything else you could think of, and my" Honey" always had answers
to all my questions. I knew him in my heart that he was going to be great
husband and a father. In fact, it was the one thing he wanted to be above
everything else.
However, Edward
knew that we were not going to get anywhere without money. So he applied
for a better job opportunity in the other country. Although we knew the
separation was going to hurt our relationship , I gave in because I knew
it was best for the future. He was scheduled to leave on March 3, 1996.
I often said
that our relationship was too good to be true. We had everything figured
out already. We fit together in so many things that it seemed like we were
destined to meet. But I guess I've always had a nagging that it would end
somehow after all, people usually say. "When it's too good to be true,
it usually is."
Two days before
his departure , Edward, professor, poet, dreams, my bestfriend and fiance',
was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia - and was given a month to
live. Our little world of happiness crumbled down into the pale, deathly
look in his face and the two of us holding on to each other and asking
God, nature, and anyone else who would dare to listen: "Why???"
And yet we found
no answer. There we were in that cold hospital room, crying our eyes out
and, for the first time in my life, Edward had no answers. At first he
was trying to be strong for the both of us, telling me it would all work
out somehow , but I would not stop crying. It would not only when he gave
up and whispered, "Baby, baby I don't know. Please stop asking me
why I have to die. I just don't know ..." and he fell apart with
tears as he pulled me tighter and fell hopeless into my lap, desperate
for anything. It was then that I knew my days as his "Baby" were over.
From that day on I lost all semblance of the gorgeous girl he spoiled to
his heart's content - and I transformed into mother, doctor, nurse, and
fiance'. I knew I had to be strong, not only for him but for his family
and his friends - all of whom have given anything for someone to say that
Edward will live.
Edward will
live. Edward my "Honey" will live. I believed in God and
I believed in miracles. I knew in my heart that Edwards' healing was only
a matter of time, that these superficial signs of death and weakness were
only obstacle we needed to pass. There was no doubt in my mind that Edward
would live to see me graduate, become a doctor, a wife and a mother for
him - and that I would see him smiling proudly at his baby, all grown up.
Despite the
objections of my family, I quit school and took care of him fulltime. My
day started at 4 a.m. by going to market to market, cooking for his food,
and preparing everything he needed for the day. His day would start by
my giving him a bath, feeding him , clothing him and praying with him.
We nurtured
a faith that knew no bounds. We started each day with songs and prayers
and ended it with expressions of endless gratitude. It did not matter to
us how people looked at him and stared despondently at his condition, or
the trauma of numerous needle pricks, blood transfusions, and the icepick-like
instruments doctors had to pierce with his spine. We were with the Lord
and we believed in His grace and deliverance.
The money soon
ran out and we had to stop his treatments. For us it was just a matter
of letting go of the physical world and placing ourselves in the hands
of God, saying "It's your call, God - do with us as you will."
Needless to
say, Edward lived past one month given to him. We grew in faith and
strength and we lived for the day of his complete recovery - when he would
tell the world of His miracle. Edward became well, strong enough to do
the laundry and start spoiling his "Baby" again for the next four months,
until he started losing his appetite, and then half of his original weight.
It's
hard for me to write this down because I keep this thoughts in the deepest
recesses of my mind. But these tiny fragments that makeup the moment "in
between" are hidden from the rest of the world, save for the closest friends,
and I'm only revealing them now.
It broke my
heart to see Edward suffer and not be able to do anything about it. I often
told him I wished I was in his place . Although I was no stranger to pain
and suffering, all I could do was watch him - the dying look on his face,
the tears that would not stop falling, and the voice that would not stop
screaming , "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Help me."
I often asked
him if he was getting tired of the torture his affliction brought, but
Edward would never give up. He would tell me through the pain-wrought grimace
on his face that no amount of pain would make him give up our dreams. He
would live for our dreams, for me, and for our future kids. But he would
first live for the Lord.
Perhaps I was
being numbled by it all, because we believed he would be healed. Even when
he could no longer sit up and eat, I stood by him day and night and I slept
on the floor with his blood tinged urinal by my side. He started bleeding
in every possible way, through his nose, gums, teeth, urine, and stool
- and I had to keep a straight face forr him until I left the room - after
which I'd break my silence and cry and cry alone as I washed his bloody
clothes by hand.
Edward died
on August 15, 1997 at 1:40 p.m. and I will never forget that day until
I die myself, perhaps not even. It was an ordinary morning. We were having
our usual chit-chat and he was doing okay except for a little difficulty
in breathing. Maybe he had an inkling of sorts about the afternoon, because
he called up his mother and asked her to come and visit. His family arrived,
and after a few prayers and receiving communion from the local priest,
I went back into the room and Edward could no longer see me. He was gasping
for air and reachig out for someone or something, and it wasn't me. He
stared blankly into space as his mother wept and prayed for mercy and I
stood away thinking, " You cannot die on me, Honey. You cannot die this
way. You promise you'd say goodbye."
There are no
words that can come close to the depth on my sadness. No kind touches or
expressions of condolence from well-meaning friends could ever make me
okay.
Losing
Edward is like losing that part on me, no one ever knew, the part that
was in his presence, capable of being friend, wife and mother - the part
that was the sweetest girl in the world.
I still talk
to Edward during the day and in my sleep. After how many months of grief,
here I am - still alive and kicking. I still haven't cried. I still catch
myself rushing home to tell him the stories of my day only to find out
he isn't there, nor will he ever be. I still have bad days and nightmares
about the traumatic pictures in my head, but I know in my heart that Edward
would never have wanted to see me unhappy, and that's why I'm moving on.
Edward and I
shared every breath and whimpered with each other in four years we were
together, and no one, not even death, could ever take that away. I live
for him and for our dreams because he would have done that for me. And
he'll still smile proudly for me when I do graduate, become a Doctor, a
Wife, and a Mother - among all the things I can ever be.
When I was young
I used to think that in whatever I got into, as long as I worked hard and
tried my very best, I would succeed. Losing Edward made me realize that
there are somethings that I cannot fix - no matter how patient I am and
how much I pray I'll never, ever see him again.
Edward lived
a fruitful life and he loved me until he could no longer breath. His absence
will always keep me looking for that special part and I lost with his death,
but that's the price I have to pay for loving someone with all my heart...
Where
did the time go
I
really don't know
Like
dust in the wind
It
scatters in flight
Will
it fall softly
I
wonder each night
Where do I go from here
Who'll
be my friend
Who'll
hold my hand
When
I reach the end...
IS THERE A LIGHT
AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL ?
'til next chapter of my lovelife...
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