Title: Autumn
Medium: Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 12 x 18 inches
Artist: betsisanders 09
Date: June 28, 2009
Today is the 9th death anniversary of my Nanay. She died from septicemia, due to gangrenous legs. She was bedridden for one and half years, suffered and endured all the systemic diseases and complications of diabetes mellitus.
Eighteen days before she died, we had a 'party'. Every Sunday, I would invite people to come over for Sunday lunch or dinner, just so, Nanay could see her sisters, nieces and nephews. But this particular Sunday, I invited my aunt's nephew, an internist. I asked him if he could convince my mother to undergo amputation of both hr legs. Nanay asked, "Up to where will you cut my legs?". I touched the portion above her knees. She didn't say a word and just moved her head from side to side. She meant NO.
Almost nightly, during the long 18 months of Nanay's ordeal, I would walk slowly, silently, without any slippers on and go quietly towards her bedroom door, put my ears on the door and listen to her cry. Then I'd go back to my room and sob the night away. I never showed my Nanay the tears, never told her how sick she was, because I didn't want to take away the only thing that could keep her going, and that was hope. Hope would make her fight, try to live and go on living. Many nights, she begged me to end it for her. ... To give her more dosage of nubain so she could sleep forever. ........ That night, I didn't hear her cry. It was quiet.
The next morning, Dad said that Nanay was awake but quiet, which was very unusual. I approached my mother and asked her to lift her arm. She couldn't move it and she whispered, "I'm weak". I knew right away that she must have had a stroke during the night.
That was the last time I heard her voice, the last time she looked at me, the last time she was awake, aware, 'alive'. She went into a coma. For the next 18 days, Dad continued to give her peritoneal dialysis, bathed her, kept her company. My best friend, Aimee, placed IV (intraenous) solutions, but, her veins would just swell, a sign that her circulatory system has failed.
On the morning of June 28, I noticed that Nanay's breathing was different. My friend, Olive, said that if Nanay's breathing would become heavy, deep and slow... it will only be a matter of hours and Nanay will expire. That whole morning, I was in her bedroom, silently praying the rosary, over and over. I whispered in her ear that I loved her, but didn't tell my Dad what I knew. It was noontime, Dad just finished his lunch, and I told him I was going to have some lunch too. I left Dad in their room, while he sat on his rocking chair and watched a noontime show. Somehow, Dad dozed off and when I returned to check on Nanay, she was gone. Nanay died alone. She must have spared us the trauma of watching her take her last breath. I called my Dad, woke him up and told her that Nanay had passed.. I don't remember what Dad and I said to each other. All I know and remember was that Dad and I did not cry.
I made all the necessary phone calls. Made the arrangements for her wake and cremation. Nanay requested to be cremated right away and not hold a vigil or wake for her. But Loyola Memorial could not schedule her cremation until Saturday, so we held the wake in our home, inside the green room, same room where I held my daughter's wake.
My youngest sister, Maria, was flying in from Chicago, on board an airplane when Nanay died. She arrived a day after Nanay's death, and was only informed about it when she was already in the car, on her way home from the airport. My other sister, Vicky, couldn't come home.
That was nine years ago.
>>>
The painting of autumn leaves is based on a photograph, by my friend, Ned. The photo was taken in one of his trips to the United States. He said that I had given him a painting of autumn leaves a long time ago too. Ned is a classmate in Dentistry and we often talk on the phone and discuss orthodontics or just laugh about anything,
The day my Nanay died, Ned called me in the afternoon. But I didn't tell him that Nanay passed just a few hours ago. Ned wasn't able to go to Nanay's wake. He asked me why I didn't tell him. I don't know. ... Maybe I didn't want anybody to know. But somehow, those closest to my Dad and I, were all present during the first night of the wake. More people came the foll0wing day, it was like having a party daily. Many many visitors. I had mixed feelings... most of the people who went on the last night of the wake never visited Nanay when she was sick. They even stayed the whole night, "naglamay". A lot of them were my Dad's relatives, who never visited my Nanay during the 18 months that she was bedridden and ill.
Should I be thankful that they remembered Nanay , in death? Should I be grateful for the "abuloy" that they gave? Should I be glad that they all came?
That was nine years ago.
>>>
Two famous celebrities died yesterday and the whole world mourns for them, sheds tears for them. All sorts of tributes are being given to them, now that they are dead, unable to hear the kind words, the praises. Why didn't they do all these when the guy was alive or when the woman was suffering from cancer? What purpose does it have now?.... now that they are dead!
I see people crying in the news, fans weeping, even go down on their knees wailing. Where were you when the guy was being accused and being tried in court? Where were those fans these past 20 years? Where were those news people when the guy was quietly raising his children, or when the guy was dealing with debts or when he was having medical problems?
It's the same thing... everybody is around in death. Why not be around when the person was suffering? Why not be supportive when the person needed to be praised? Why not give comfort when the person needed to be hugged? Why give flowers when she is unable to smell them? Why praise when she is unable to hear? Why visit when she is unable to see or feel your presence?
>>>
PLEASE DON'T WAIT....
If you ever loved me, tell me now.
If you have tender thoughts of me, tell me now.
If you miss me and wish to be near me, tell me now.
If you care for me, tell me now.
If I did something good and you wish to thank me, tell me now.
Please don't wait until I'm gone, or when my name is engraved on stone.
Please don't wait, because it might just be too late.
It is now autumn... almost near the cold end!!!
June 29, 2009 / dawn / betisanders 09
Eighteen days before she died, we had a 'party'. Every Sunday, I would invite people to come over for Sunday lunch or dinner, just so, Nanay could see her sisters, nieces and nephews. But this particular Sunday, I invited my aunt's nephew, an internist. I asked him if he could convince my mother to undergo amputation of both hr legs. Nanay asked, "Up to where will you cut my legs?". I touched the portion above her knees. She didn't say a word and just moved her head from side to side. She meant NO.
Almost nightly, during the long 18 months of Nanay's ordeal, I would walk slowly, silently, without any slippers on and go quietly towards her bedroom door, put my ears on the door and listen to her cry. Then I'd go back to my room and sob the night away. I never showed my Nanay the tears, never told her how sick she was, because I didn't want to take away the only thing that could keep her going, and that was hope. Hope would make her fight, try to live and go on living. Many nights, she begged me to end it for her. ... To give her more dosage of nubain so she could sleep forever. ........ That night, I didn't hear her cry. It was quiet.
The next morning, Dad said that Nanay was awake but quiet, which was very unusual. I approached my mother and asked her to lift her arm. She couldn't move it and she whispered, "I'm weak". I knew right away that she must have had a stroke during the night.
That was the last time I heard her voice, the last time she looked at me, the last time she was awake, aware, 'alive'. She went into a coma. For the next 18 days, Dad continued to give her peritoneal dialysis, bathed her, kept her company. My best friend, Aimee, placed IV (intraenous) solutions, but, her veins would just swell, a sign that her circulatory system has failed.
On the morning of June 28, I noticed that Nanay's breathing was different. My friend, Olive, said that if Nanay's breathing would become heavy, deep and slow... it will only be a matter of hours and Nanay will expire. That whole morning, I was in her bedroom, silently praying the rosary, over and over. I whispered in her ear that I loved her, but didn't tell my Dad what I knew. It was noontime, Dad just finished his lunch, and I told him I was going to have some lunch too. I left Dad in their room, while he sat on his rocking chair and watched a noontime show. Somehow, Dad dozed off and when I returned to check on Nanay, she was gone. Nanay died alone. She must have spared us the trauma of watching her take her last breath. I called my Dad, woke him up and told her that Nanay had passed.. I don't remember what Dad and I said to each other. All I know and remember was that Dad and I did not cry.
I made all the necessary phone calls. Made the arrangements for her wake and cremation. Nanay requested to be cremated right away and not hold a vigil or wake for her. But Loyola Memorial could not schedule her cremation until Saturday, so we held the wake in our home, inside the green room, same room where I held my daughter's wake.
My youngest sister, Maria, was flying in from Chicago, on board an airplane when Nanay died. She arrived a day after Nanay's death, and was only informed about it when she was already in the car, on her way home from the airport. My other sister, Vicky, couldn't come home.
That was nine years ago.
>>>
The painting of autumn leaves is based on a photograph, by my friend, Ned. The photo was taken in one of his trips to the United States. He said that I had given him a painting of autumn leaves a long time ago too. Ned is a classmate in Dentistry and we often talk on the phone and discuss orthodontics or just laugh about anything,
The day my Nanay died, Ned called me in the afternoon. But I didn't tell him that Nanay passed just a few hours ago. Ned wasn't able to go to Nanay's wake. He asked me why I didn't tell him. I don't know. ... Maybe I didn't want anybody to know. But somehow, those closest to my Dad and I, were all present during the first night of the wake. More people came the foll0wing day, it was like having a party daily. Many many visitors. I had mixed feelings... most of the people who went on the last night of the wake never visited Nanay when she was sick. They even stayed the whole night, "naglamay". A lot of them were my Dad's relatives, who never visited my Nanay during the 18 months that she was bedridden and ill.
Should I be thankful that they remembered Nanay , in death? Should I be grateful for the "abuloy" that they gave? Should I be glad that they all came?
That was nine years ago.
>>>
Two famous celebrities died yesterday and the whole world mourns for them, sheds tears for them. All sorts of tributes are being given to them, now that they are dead, unable to hear the kind words, the praises. Why didn't they do all these when the guy was alive or when the woman was suffering from cancer? What purpose does it have now?.... now that they are dead!
I see people crying in the news, fans weeping, even go down on their knees wailing. Where were you when the guy was being accused and being tried in court? Where were those fans these past 20 years? Where were those news people when the guy was quietly raising his children, or when the guy was dealing with debts or when he was having medical problems?
It's the same thing... everybody is around in death. Why not be around when the person was suffering? Why not be supportive when the person needed to be praised? Why not give comfort when the person needed to be hugged? Why give flowers when she is unable to smell them? Why praise when she is unable to hear? Why visit when she is unable to see or feel your presence?
>>>
PLEASE DON'T WAIT....
If you ever loved me, tell me now.
If you have tender thoughts of me, tell me now.
If you miss me and wish to be near me, tell me now.
If you care for me, tell me now.
If I did something good and you wish to thank me, tell me now.
Please don't wait until I'm gone, or when my name is engraved on stone.
Please don't wait, because it might just be too late.
It is now autumn... almost near the cold end!!!
June 29, 2009 / dawn / betisanders 09
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