Dearest Ave,

It’s October 1st now. The temperature has dropped in the past week. Its been raining more frequently, and the sun rises later now. I don’t think about you daily anymore. My days are not filled with your memories, voice or longing for you. It’s as if my mind has trained me to forget. Because to remember would hurt so much. I forget so I don’t feel the pain. It still hurts Ma. I still miss you, and this morning that desire to see you again and talk to you again was so great. I teared up while hanging up the freshly washed laundry. What I really wouldn’t give just to see you again and talk to you again one more time.

Life. Ever since I got my new job in August, I have just been trying to adapt to the changes. All the small things annoy me, as they always have done, and like before, I need to learn how to work smart. To actually take a step back and see other solutions to the dilemma. But societal pressure has always been embedded in me, and the need/desire to be good at what I do is something that I take personally. at work, I like people to think that I get things done. And I have people who support me and say how good I am doing, but this falls on deaf ears and I’d rather much concentrate on the negative things that bring me down instead of bask on the compliments/positive feedback. Because the former fuels my self-hate and self-doubt, and what else pushes me forward in life? Hahahaha.

Angry Ma. there’s lots of anger as well. I just don’t want to take crap from people anymore. Less patience, more outspoken, but never horrible. I can never be horrible. I’ve been raised too well to be a people pleaser. To try to appease difficult people. I guess it comes with the territory of being a middle child. My non-conflict nature. Sometimes (most of the time), my passive aggressiveness (have I learned this to a T?), people are difficult and I am difficult but I have always believed good communication can build bridges.

I have read a couple more books since my last post. I have finished Close to Home by Michael Magee (hard read, almost didnt finish); Days at the Moriwasaki Bookshop (too healing for me, but good choice after Close to Home as I needed to cleanse my palette of the harsh reality Michael Magee wrote about), and now I’m currently reading Babel by RF Kuang and Someday, Maybe by Onyi Nwabineli.

Tom and I made kimchi yestersay Ma. He also made some chili sauce. Then he made the most delicious beef stew and mashed potato, which we ate quite late but it was worth the wait. We watched the Maze Runner and liked it and I went to bed around 12mn (the latest time for me in a long while) and Tom went to bed around 2am. It’s 10 now and Tom’s still snoring. Life goes on Ma. The rain continues to drop, the weather continues to change, I continue to wake up, eat, go to work, love, laugh. I continue to be me and I wait for the hard times with anticipation and dread. Tom is the complete opposite. He will be happy no matter what- this is just how he is. But Ma, this morning, I thought of your dressing room, where you dry yourself after showering, put on clothes, put on your VMV Armada sunscreen, put on your talcum powder and your daster and how I wanted to be in that room so, so much, but also knowing how much I would cry. Some places will always belong to you. Some places will always hold your memory. And for me, its that dressing room, with your clothes, your cosmetics, your bags, your hoard of Cetaphil, Tide bars, new tupperwares, bags. I love you Mama I hope in whatever way or form my love transcends death and you can feel it. I hope you feel warm and loved and cared for, wherever you are. I hope my words and my thoughts go into the ether and reach you. Ihope you’re not alone, dark or cold. I hope you’re happy, where the sun is shining down on you.

After your death I blamed myself so much. For that decision not to intubate you. For asking the doctors to give you morphine. I felt like I had killed you. And I carry that guilt until now. What if it was the wrong decision? You wanted to live so much and yet I couldnt give it to you. Look at me, I am not God! Why do I feel so guilty? There were so many things during that time Ma.. even me going out with my friends during that time makes me feel so bad until now. Should’ve…. so many things. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you taught me how to forgive. You told me not to be angry at him even though he hurt you, he hurt us. You forgave me all the time, even when you felt like I had “forgotten” you while I’m abroad. And you loved me so much to trust me with your life. The last thing you said to me, in the hospital, was, “Ikaw na bahala.” while cupping my face with your hands. It’s my utmost privilege to look after you on your last years on Earth. Thank you so much for giving me that time Ma. And i know in my heart of hearts, whatever self-flagellation I have done, whatever it is I blame myself for, or feel guilty about, you have already forgiven me. Because this is who you are, what kind of person you were on this earth. You always forgave. You always had room to forgive, no matter how much people have hurt you. Mama, guide me in life. I will make you proud. But please when my time comes please be the one to take me.

I am pretty sure you will be there.

Your daugher forever,

Hershey