 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 17 was 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 Jaylord 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 18th 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 for 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.. |
