As I am writing this blog, I tried to remember my childhood. But alas, I cannot vividly remember it. It's like a cobweb or something is blocking my memory. Or I had erased those bad things and retain only those memories that makes me happy? I always ask that about myself. Why I am feeling this way? Why can't I remember? I remember the people that makes me happy. My auntie's on their small little way had given us toys and books when we are young, my childhood friends in Capiz who have made us happy.
Recently, I just learned that my sister friend Ru had died. She died with her little girl on her arms. I felt numb when I learned it and I questioned God about it. You see, she live a painful life on this earth. A struggle for acceptance and a struggle to erase the past. She only lived for 30 yrs., she died young. Maybe, it is for the best. Maybe, she had a purpose? I don't know. I just know that in her life, she experienced pain and love. Pain from the past that I knew haunt her. Love from the person that was not her mother. Her life story is worthy of a soap opera. Much richer...more drama. She grew up near our place. She had a very loving mother, who loves her unconditionally and supports her dreams and ambitions. But what if the mother that she know is not really her mom but her grandparent? Now, that is her story. Her real mom is a 15 yrs. older than her. Her supposed older sister is really her mom. Her mom got pregnant with her at 15 and under not normal circumstances. Not normal because she did not get pregnant because of loving someone at a young age but because her mom got a mistake of trusting someone. Yes, trust, the same foundation of everything that we know. And this trust is given to someone dear to her family, dear to her older sister, her sister's husband.
This story is one of the scandal on our town during those days. It died down because not all people knew it but because people are not that callous enough to speak about it. She got pregnant by her sisters' husband. Some say they fell in love but others say that she was raped. Nevertheless, no one came forward, the husband did not go to jail and the wife is still with her husband till the end. When the younger sister conceived the child, it was given to an aunt, a grandaunt for her to raise the child.
After giving birth to the child, the mother went to Manila. To forget, to start her life anew. Alas, she did. She married a wealthy man and had a good life with him. She raised a new family with him. The little girl grew up thinking her grandaunt is her mother. She was not deprived of love because the grandaunt is one of the loving person you will met. She was not deprived of opportunities because everyone is there to help her and guide her. She even lived with her real mom when she turned 18. Everything was good, all ends well. And she fell in love, have a child and died. I do know that everyone around her had loved her in their own way. Maybe in the end, she did learn everything. In the end, she did forgive her father. When I was younger and I have learned the story, I asked my mom why did the husband did not go to jail. He committed something, that even if it's not rape, there is still the undue influence of a matured man to a very young woman. I had said that it's corruption of minors. But who am I to judge? The wife who stayed on her husband till the end even if she was hurt? The girl who feel betrayed by her sisters' actions but continued with her life? The husband who I believe in my heart had regrets for what he did and will continue to feel the guilt till the end but tried to forget? Or I, just a spectator to all of this? In the end, the real victim is the little girl. Who felt lost, who wanders thru life looking for that love. I knew that when she died, she had no husband but only a child. Maybe, at the end, she did find that love. On the arms of her child. I wish that for her.
Sometimes, we tend to take for granted our lives. We tend to look back and never look on what...we tend to be prisoners with our own fears and mortalities that we tend not to forgive and maybe, forget. This is the lesson that I have learned from her story. From a friend. That in the end, we can either choose for our own happiness or choose to dwell on our miseries. Because life is too short to always look back.
