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HONORING MY MOTHER | Left standing at the station

By Icoy San Pedro

ALMOST always, it’s the early life lessons that ironically leave the more permanent marks. They are likewise so cleverly disguised and hidden inside each one’s ordinary day-to-day that these lessons (especially the unpleasant ones) spring up like tigers lying in ambush. As we broaden our horizons as we grow older, they become the significant milestones one returns to whenever similar situations crop up in the future.

They be ranging from the trivial to the profound, all deceptively pack a lasting glance nevertheless. The experience could either be the about the natural innocence of a first crush or the reeling sensation of a first heartache. From observing little children, it could be the devastating feeling of suddenly being left alone at the playground while their friends and playmates begin to depart for home. Then moving on to the gloomier versions of all life lessons, it could be the unsteadying mix of emotions which we all endure at the death of a loved one. 

Thing is, it does not always follow that even for those who have clocked in more years, death has ceased to be a stranger. Every loss, such as those within family circles, is much like fingerprints. As death has many faces, each loss appear as unique and exclusive in its own gravity of pain. Another commonality they share is that these levels of pain never seem to go away even as years go by. 

As we memorialize the first anniversary passing of our patriarch, other family deaths likewise come to mind. Even as some of these may be nothing but detached imprints for our younger generations, it is we, the elders who possess the full brunt and feelings of each loss. Not to say that they carry a lighter load, nature dictates that in its own way, losses are meant to be shared. 

Many among us may not have been present when my father drew his delicate and childlike final breath, but one thing holds true. Though now only in thought and fond memories, we are with him every day, as we are with the rest of those who have gone before us. 

During one poignant moment years ago, my dad had waxed sentimental, apologizing he might have become a burden and saying he believes no one would miss him when his time came. Even as I had appeased him then for those unfounded feelings, I am again reminded of that scene now, as a come across a passage I copied a long time ago in my notes.

“Never underestimate the empty space your absence will create for we are all beautiful and amazing in our own unique ways. Unbeknownst to you, there will be many who will  painfully miss where your footsteps have been.” -Author unknown

For all who have lost someone, not a day goes by when their demanding presence all drift back for a visit inside our memories. As such, their soul essence lives on and never dies. We love you popsie.



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