Wednesday, July 04, 2007
What am I to do? It feels wrong to be happy, when at this moment dozens of relatives are mourning your death. It feels wrong when I'm still doing the same thing that I did yesterday, as if today never happened.
I feel the pain, but at the same time, I feel completely removed from the whole thing. It's hard to grasp the fact that I can never see your face again. It's hard to believe that I saw you less than a month ago, and now you're no longer here. I should have known better. Maybe I should have talked to you more the last time I saw you. Maybe I should have advised you about what to do. It hurts me now to think that perhaps you passed on without ever knowing that I care and love you. Now it's too late. I wish I could have done something. The moment I heard the news, I thought, did I not pray for you hard enough? Werent my prayers sincere enough?
It's been awhile and we lived our separate lives, but I love you. How could I not? You were my cousin and like a sister to me. You were there for me for the first few years of my life. Each childhood memory is, more often that not, intrinsically linked to you. How can I forget? You used to braid my hair for kindergarden. You packed my lunch when I was in primary school. On rainy Saturdays you would let me play under the rain. You hid my Pink Panther and stuffed animals when I refuse to put away my toys. You let me help you feed milk and biscuits to the dog. One of my fears is that someone might pass away when I'm here, but I never for one second thought that it'll be you.
My heart breaks at the thought of the young ones you left behind. They are so young, can they withstand their mother's loss? My heart also breaks at the thought of your husband who loves you. How can he cope without you by his side? Everything happened so fast, never thought that it will come to this. And to think that this would have been preventable, if only they discovered what was wrong sooner. I thought that you would pull through. Now all I feel is an inexplicable guilt. I'm angry with myself, for somewhat dismissing the gravity of your illness. I'm in healthcare for goodness' sake, and I couldnt even help you.
I prayed to God yesterday, and I remembered wondering where do people's souls go to during coma, and whether they indeed have the out-of-body experience. I wondered whether you were confused and afraid. I wondered if you knew what was happening to you. I wondered if at that moment you could see everyone standing by your bed. I even wondered if you could see me so far away, praying for you. I prayed then for God to give you comfort and strength, and I hope you felt that at your last moment. We love you, and you will be missed.
In memory of Marian Luga (1971-2007) and her unborn baby, may they rest in peace.