I was told that when my dad left for the United States when I was 2 that I stopped talking for a long time. My parents finally got the visa to immigrate to the United States from the Philippines. The plan was for my dad to go first, find a job and apartment and then my mom and I follow. I’m not sure how long afterwards we came (maybe a few months) but I know from my mom that I stopped speaking because I missed him so much. My mom was so worried that she took me to a doctor who found nothing wrong with me.
I’ve been processing my feelings since his passing on February 28th. It was a whirlwind of busy and emotions since taking him to the hospital December 12 for what we thought was a stroke but ended up being brain cancer. Everyday for those 11 weeks brought different challenges and my life revolved around being there for his and my mom’s needs whether it be for appointments, discussions with medical personnel at the hospital, or picking up groceries or my dad’s favorite foods; extreme grief and sadness living alongside beauty and joy. After dropping my sons off at the airport the day after the funeral I wept uncontrollably for a long time, a floodgate of tears held back that started at the funeral.
My dad was a man of few words but his eyes and his ‘look’ told stories; you always knew if he was mad or content, or filled with joy based on his eyes. Although the first thing he lost early on was his speech which became mostly babbling, we could see the frustration, fear, and any other expression just by looking into his eyes. What I will remember most were the quiet conversations he and I had about the kids, what they were up to, the joy in his eyes when I would talk about them and show him pictures. The day we watched AJs graduation from grad school live streaming and his joy while watching but also the pain in his eyes looking at me knowing I missed the event to stay with him. I will remember the miraculous time he called me late at night from the hospital because he didn’t know how to turn the tv off in his hospital room; miraculous because at a time he couldn’t speak, and was confused, but he somehow grabbed his phone, dialed my number, and spoke clearly saying ‘can’t turn off tv’. I was able to call the nurses station and get someone in there to help him. I will remember his giant smile when Roxy the therapy dog came into his room. Roxy was the name of his dog who passed away almost a year ago and by the way, Roxy came at the beginning (December), and happened to show up again his last week at the hospital before going to home hospice. I will remember his giant smile as all the grandkids showed up at the hospital at Christmas time and then his tears of sorrow when he realized it was Christmas and we were all celebrating at the hospital because he couldn’t get home. I will remember singing Nat King Cole to him and him humming along and smiling just a few days before home hospice (and yes, I have that last precious video saved). And I will also remember that last week when it was just the two of us in his hospital room a few days before going home for hospice care and the short conversation: him pointing to his head then pointing to himself and saying ‘better?’ ‘Are you asking me if you’re going to get better?’ ‘yeah.’ ‘Dad, we’re doing all we can so you just keep fighting and getting stronger.’ ‘I hope so.’ I cry thinking about it.
I’ve been searching lately for something that reminds me of my dad, a symbol that when I see it, I know he’s still here. My friend’s mom loved ladybugs so when she sees a ladybug she’s reminded of her mom and feels her close, while another friend has the same thing with cardinals. I started thinking about this days before his death asking, ‘what is it, one symbolic thing that would remind me of him?’ He loved clothes, playing golf, baseball hats but none of these gave me the warm ‘this is my dad’ feeling. Then it hit me. As I was driving home after taking my sons to the airport, I turned on Spotify to the same station I played for my dad in the hospital filled with his favorite artists from the past and I realized my dad gave me music. Growing up there was not a single day that passed that he wasn’t playing records on our stereo; Johnny Mathis, Nat King Cole, Perry Como, etc. On Sunday mornings before and after church he would play classical music like Beethoven and Mozart and he’d pretend to be conducting the orchestra. He played the trombone and harmonica, sang in his church choir, and he took us to DSO (Detroit Symphony Orchestra) at the park. He brought me to my first Broadway touring show, Annie, which started my love for musicals and musical theater. I cannot hear music without thinking about my dad and I am so grateful.
His funeral was beautiful and packed with hundreds of friends and family, he and our family have been so loved. People spoke of his warm smile and how he was most proud of his kids and grandkids. Many of the church choir members outside of the small funeral choir, came to sing at his funeral and I know my dad would’ve been so proud. I can still see his face proudly singing and grinning with joy. What will I miss most? Seeing his smile, laughing with him through his jokes, and his laughter and joy when I’d speak about the kids. Also, ever since I learned how to drive until even just a month or two ago, whenever I would leave our house and then their house he’d stand at the storm door and watch me pull out of the driveway. Every. single. time. A man of few words, that’s my dad, expressive eyes, a big smile, funny joke, laughter, and always always a song.
It’s week, I don’t even know anymore, of Covid quarantine. I have semi-adjusted to the daily web based calls for work, various networking calls, dog walks, exercise, cooking, etc, and of all those things, I don’t want to cook anymore…I’m bored with my cooking. I have developed a couple addictions; one to pork rinds (the ‘healthy’ keto kind from Whole Foods), and I can’t get enough of a cleaning instagram account called @gocleanco. It’s seriously a before and after gold mine of house cleaning. No, I haven’t deep cleaned my house from top to bottom nor have the desire to, but I love watching the cleaning stories on this account and I did buy powder Tide for the first time ever (if you watch, you know). It’s weird.
Starting week 6 of our quarantine but who’s counting and how is everyone? I have to say, I have run through the gamut of emotions. The first week or so I was just busy; busy preparing the house for all of the kids to be back (the older 3 are in college and 1 was studying abroad), getting groceries, preparing the home office to transition to 100% work from home for both me and my husband, etc. The second week was still busy but I felt a little more anxious and maybe depressed. Week 3 was when my anxiety peaked and I think it’s when I cried the most, not to mention I think it may have been the week when all the kids started really getting stir crazy. Remember, they are all older teens and young adults and are all used to their independence so being stuck with all their cars in the driveway is a little crazy. Yes, we have lots of cars in the driveway and street so it looks like we’re having a party…trust me, it’s no party in here.
going to grad school to become a Doctor in Physical Therapy. Here’s the clincher, he was going to start grad school in the fall but recently got accepted to another school he’d rather go to which starts in May…MAY. They have redesigned their first semester to have it all online, then he moves for in person classes for the fall semester (hopefully). It’s a lot all at once. I’m not sad that he’s grown up and moving to another state far away for grad school, I’m grieving the fact that I have Stage 4 cancer and I want to soak in every single moment and my first born child graduating college is a ceremony I just wanted to see, cry, and soak in. Yes, it’s about me, but it’s about him too because I know how hard he has worked to do well and finish an undergrad science degree in the honors college in 4 years. Sigh. This Friday, the university president will have a Facebook live commencement event; thank you social media, he graduates via Facebook.
time he (and I) left the hospital, it was fall. We lost summer. Now with Covid, by the time it’s over, it will probably be summer, so we lost spring too. Here’s the deal, IT’S A BLIP IN TIME and with Stage 4 cancer, I love and LIVE for ALL blips in time and having time in general, by trying to be grateful always, and trying to always find the magic. I emphasize ‘trying’ because it can be really hard sometimes. This is just a blip in time to be a little less selfish and a little more self-less for people like me, or your parents/grandparents, or even for a complete stranger. ‘No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.’~1Cor 10:24
For the last couple of years I’ve lived with a steady undercurrent of uncertainty and occasional fear and sadness from a diagnosis of Stage 4 metastatic cancer. Daily, I have prayed for more time, less fear, maybe for my cancer to miraculously disappear or at the very least, remain stable for the next 50 years. Cancer has forced me to face mortality, the fragility of life, and the real possibility of death sooner rather than later. One author compared living with Stage 4 cancer to walking around with a bomb strapped to your chest not knowing when it may explode. Now add coronavirus.
amazing doctors, nurses, and support staff. About 4 years ago one of my original doctors that helped navigate my cancer journey retired and I cried my eyes out. He was the one who called me with the news that my cancer had returned the 2nd and 3rd time. He researched new therapies and called different surgeons and oncologists; this busy doctor made me feel like I was his only patient for the 6 years that I saw him. I love all of the people that cared/care for me. What a difficult job they have trying to comfort and encourage patients, while also doing their jobs and what’s medically necessary. The impact that caregivers have on our lives is pretty astounding. Having cancer comes with baggage; fear, sadness, uncertainty~ it’s a dark time and medical staff play an important part. No matter what is happening in their lives they are tasked to care and love hard. Dr. M and Dr. D, my prayers are with you and I love you both hard.
part time getting all A’s. He still gets a little tired writing but that is coming along. Here’s my mom struggle…before the stroke he was a normal teen boy doing the push and pull; the pushing of my nerves while trying to pull away into his own adulthood. I get it, I’ve had to let go of my other two and that’s how it goes. After the stroke, he became my baby again. It was an incredibly difficult time and sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see him lying in that bed in the ICU and it makes me cry. There are things I can’t even talk about without choking up including the last night we spent at the hospital together, praying, crying, and talking about all that had transpired, before 
being discharged to come home. Now that he’s about 95% back to being a normal teen boy, there’s that push and pull again, and I have to relearn it. As one radio DJ said, it’s like a hard break up. For me it’s like breaking up, getting back together, then going through an even harder break up again. Makes me sad but I know it’s necessary. Motherhood is hard and time flies. Besides Alex, my oldest is graduating college in a few months and planning grad school farther away, and Audrey is studying overseas this whole semester. It’s a mixed bag of sadness and joy.
It was a tough 6 weeks. What sustained me and gave me energy? Love. Love is a superpower; love beyond any words, love that took action. My fierce momma bear love gave me the energy I needed to take care of Alex and to be there fully for him. The crazy love I received from my home team: my husband, kids, parents, friends, Alex’s friends and teachers, the parents of Alex’s friends, etc, helped sustained my spirit and kept me secure that yes, the world at home and around me were also taken cared of. The love Alex and I felt from the nurses, staff, work friends, acquaintances, and even wishes from social media strangers was incredible. Love does make the world go round and life always moves forward. ‘It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.’~Vincent Van Gogh
Anna's Lipstick Journey 