She never found interest in electronic gadgets (except with the mp3 shuffle I bought her when she turned 60) and computers (except in playing the solitaire). She found the typewriter more convenient than using the computer to make her reports (oh, she was one of the best typists I've ever known.) Internet wasn't her cup of tea. She heard about Yahoo or Facebook, but I am pretty sure it would never cross her mind to create an account. She admitted, things such as these would just complicate her simple lifestyle.
As I write this note about her, I know that she, despite being not an FB-fan, is reading this. Just the way how she used to read my articles and would be all-praised about my craft. I used to remember how proud she was when I was chosen as columnist for the school organ when I was in grade school and was sentimental when she read the winning article. After all these years of jotting down my thoughts, my triumphs, my pains and joys, I could not remember writing a note about her. Probably because I couldn't find the right words to start that write-up about a woman who made most of the best things in my life happen.
She knows I am proud of her. I know at some point in her life, I disappointed her or made her cry. My radical way of thinking was the usual reason of our argument. But she knows I love her more than anything else... more than a high paying job, more than any pleasure this world could offer. That's why it pains me to lose the one who, again, made most of the best things in my life happen.
It was in July 1, 2010 when I realized she had the signs of cancer as confirmed in CT Scan. She had to undergo an exploratory laparotomy a week before my brother's wedding, an event important to him which she could not attend. What was supposed to be happiest for my brother turned out be somehow quite wanting. We missed her during the celebration. She had to be confined in the hospital for recovery.
She knew about her illness. Peritoneal Carcinomatosis, Stage 4. Cancer of the serous membrane that forms the lining of the abdominal cavity. She overheard about it when the doctor explained to me her condition during the explore lap. I could not hold back my tears. The biopsy results also prove positive. She knew I did not have the confidence to tell her so she managed to tell it to me straight.
Dong, naghilak ka?
Wa man, Nay.
I tried to pull myself up so she won't notice an emotional setback. But a mother knows the feeling of a son. Afterall, I came from her. All the more she would know my emotions more than anybody else.
Kumusta man ang biopsy? Sakto tong giingon ni doctor nga Stage 4 Cancer? Kuhaon na ko ni Jesus, dong?
I was flabbergasted. Here's a woman, diagnosed of Stage 4 cancer, managing herself to break the news indirectly and finding way to make me feel comfortable in a very awkward, emotion-filled conversation. I could not lie. I mean, how could I lie to someone who was knowledgeable about what's going on?
Tinuod nay. Stage 4. Pero di ko makatubag sa imong last nga question. Pero dawaton ra ni nato tanan, Nay. The best that we can do is to thank Him for this.
Aw, di pa man sii pod ko kuhaon ni Jesus, dong. Wa pa man ko nija ingna.
Then we both smiled and laughed a bit.
When we did home care, I had to be her private nurse. We joked at the fact that balance sheet and syringe are really different fields. But I had to quickly adopt a sudden change of field. My father and brother also had to adopt the changes. Afterall, we are a team.
The doctor's calculation of 3 months was quite precise. We had to re-confine her to the hospital when she had been bile vomiting for over three weeks. All he could advise was for us to stay close with her. Attend to her needs. Spend more time with her. Enjoy every moment with her. And most of all Pray with her.
Dong, mata dong. She woke me up like she would usually do when she needed anything.
Ngano man, Nay? Gigutom ka?
Di man, dong. Lingkod ra diha sa ahong tapad. Guniti ahong kamot kay naa koy isulti nimo. Kuha-on na ko dong. Kuha-on na ko ni Jesus.
Ha? Kinsa may ingon nimo, Nay?
Si Jesus. Mianhi na sija naho.
( Flashback: She once told me she still won't go because Jesus has not told her yet. Now, she is telling me Jesus will now take her. OMG!)
Neither of us could hold back our tears. But she was crying with a smile. She asked me to hug her really tight. And we prayed.
That was the last conversation I had with her. Her speech started to fade. In the next three days, all she could murmur were "Jesus, I trust in You"... then she went to comatose for over two weeks and finally rested on October 07, 2010, the feast of the Our Lady of the Holy Rosary.
She was 60 when she joined her Creator. It was a life well spent. Her years remind me not of how old she had aged but how long she had been an inspiration to others during her lifetime. But the memory of her will always be an inspiration to live by.
GERTRUDES SIBI GADO. My Mother. My Best Friend.
I love you and I miss you so much, Nanay Bebie!
