Musings On A Friday

It’s a bit like learning to walk again.

If someone asked me what it’s like to try to move on from grief, I guess my best answer would be something like it. For life’s now like wanting desperately to leave behind the pain, yet not really even knowing how to make that very first step . Which will it be? Will I lead with my right foot or left foot? Decisions, decisions, decisions. Even life’s simplest tasks can get to you. Being afraid to fall flat on your face yet wanting to prove to the world what a brave little boy you’ve become. And if it’s some consolation, everything seems to move so utterly slow and everyone’s so willing to cut you some slack. “Poor little Bong” comes to mind. Slacker Joe turned hero is another. I must admit I may even be strangely beginning to enjoy this but I know however, I’ll have to do just it sooner or later. I must make something of my life again (other than just sitting around, feeling sorry and waiting for that chariot ride to the pearly gates). I know Mariel insists on it. For Sam? Maybe also for me. For she had always looked the other way as I’ve gone through life merely getting that free ride. Well now, I’d have to really hack it. No more training wheels.

I attempted to do that the other day, when I had inadvertently found Mariel’s Christmas CD collection at the car’s glove compartment. It took me a while to gather some courage to play it. For I had mostly stared at it only before, knowing the floodgates of emotions it can open. Of course, I did manage to get through the third song before the portal started to open again and tears naturally came flowing once more. It was somewhere the “dreaming of a White Christmas” part when I lost it. It’s just fortunate that it was raining outside my car and I had my oyster all for myself. Otherwise I may have looked like a fountain Gargoyle. But I know I had made Mariel proud that time, maybe even laugh too. Because baby steps as they are, I had tried to “walk” again. For Sam? Maybe even for myself. And I know I will never walk alone because Mariel’s always there with me.

I love you Mommy. Let me play this tune for you, good night.

9 thoughts on “Musings On A Friday

  1. Absolutely wonderful, haunting music for a beautiful lady. Mariel will love these notes as they float gently up towards Heaven. Take courage Bong, you are coping so well – bettter than you think you are. mariel knows that too. Trust me.

    Below: A poem for you, showing the complexity of grief and that even when we are finally in the “acceptance” stage, we still love and miss those we have lost.

    “The Five Stage of Grief” by Linda Pastan

    The night I lost you
    someone pointed me towards
    the Five Stages of Grief
    Go that way, they said,
    it’s easy, like learning to climb
    stairs after the amputation.
    And so I climbed.
    Denial was first.
    I sat down at breakfast
    carefully setting the table
    for two. I passed you the toast—
    you sat there. I passed
    you the paper—you hid
    behind it.
    Anger seemed so familiar.
    I burned the toast, snatched
    the paper and read the headlines myself.
    But they mentioned your departure,
    and so I moved on to
    Bargaining. What could I exchange
    for you? The silence
    after storms? My typing fingers?
    Before I could decide, Depression
    came puffing up, a poor relation
    its suitcase tied together
    with string. In the suitcase
    were bandages for the eyes
    and bottled sleep. I slid
    all the way down the stairs
    feeling nothing.
    And all the time Hope
    flashed on and off
    in detective neon.
    Hope was a signpost pointing
    straight in the air.
    Hope was my uncle’s middle name,
    he died of it.
    After a year I am still climbing, though my feet slip
    on your stone face.
    The treeline
    has long since disappeared;
    green is a color
    I have forgotten.
    But now I see what I am climbing
    towards: Acceptance
    written in capital letters,
    a special headline:
    its name is in lights.
    I struggle on,
    waving and shouting.
    Below, my whole life spreads its surf,
    all the landscapes I’ve ever known
    or dreamed of. Below
    a fish jumps: the pulse
    in your neck.
    Acceptance. I finally
    reach it.
    But something is wrong.
    Grief is a circular staircase.
    I have lost you.


    Best wishes and hugs from Jan.

  2. rhosie

    hi,i know how hard for you to win this battle of loneliness and pain of losing a wife, a friend and a mother of your child…i felt the heaviness and so much emotion you still feel at the moment…but i admire your courage for starting to walk even a small step to move on…Godbless

  3. Facing the tough stuff is a big step forwards. You know it’ll be upsetting, but you reason you can cope with it, more or less.
    And you did.

    Small steps, and plenty of them. They’re all you need. Spirits up.

  4. What a beautiful poem Jan. It indeed sums up the hope and helplessness that comes with the grieving process. Thanks again as always.

    Wishing you too a peaceful and blessed weekend ahead.

    Take care,


  5. Hi Rhosie. I’m glad to hear from you again, you’ve been a great part of Sam’s and my road to acceptance. Still a long way to go, but keeping faith for my Mariel.

    Blessings to you always.

  6. rhosie

    i am happy that in my own little way i can able to help you and sam to your journey of acceptance…i know it is a very long winding journey still ahead for both of you…i know how hard it is, i lost my grandma too 2 years ago..i loved her much and realizing that now shes gone pain and longing keeps haunting me…what more to lose a wife and a mother for sam…but i do hope you find a strength and courage to your little angel sam…in the midst of uncertainty,pain, sadness and loneliness just pray to God and remember you dont walk alone in your journey, your daughter is always in your side, your family and friends…let ,e share with your this wonderful quote:
    Believe, when you are most unhappy, that there is something for you to do in the world. So long as you can sweeten another’s pain, life is not in vain.”


  7. redwinrosales


    left foot or right foot, fast or slow, the more important thing is that you made the first step and I know Mariel is happy seeing you finally moving on. God bless you & Sam…

    And praying for you always,


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