Jane Austin’s Sense and Sensibility

I didn’t realize I will be crying a bucket on this movie. The first time I watched it with my husband, I literally fell asleep.

I got so much emotions going around the characters of Col. Brandon and Marianne, Ms. Dashwood and Edward Ferris.

Col. Brandon being the invisible man. The guy who is always there, who can be a friend but his favors are not really returned. Although in the end, his persistence have gain her the love of Marianne. Give me some tissue please.😭

I was also touched how tough Ms. Dashwood is with controlling her emotions after learning that Edward is already engaged for five years with another woman. Eventhough heartbroken, she still wished them both well.

Concealing her heartbreak, Ms. Dashwood is trying to be strong for her sister, while the latter as well is ill from a heartbreak.

I dont know the magic of Jane Austin’s films with me. It just gives me a connection; an old connection I had. Well, the connection the younger me had with her husband.

Miss you today, min skat.

Heaven Indeed Gained Another Angel

Thank you for touching my life, Ms. Veronica.

In 2010, we never had the chance to work directly in Maersk. But when the news of my marriage to Allan got around, you reached out thru Lync (that was our skype before) and told me that I made the right decision of marrying him because he is a good man who loves his mother very much (with Filipino women, that is a good sign of being a good person); that you know Allan and you are close friends for a long time. I deeply appreciate that message of assurance.

With that short conversation, you are such an angel for doing that. And you are right! I am always grateful to the Big Guy up there for always keeping me surrounded with beautiful souls such as yours and my husband.

Your life filled with love will always echo through all your friends and families’ hearts even after you are gone. ’til we meet again, madam V.

Heaven gained another angel, dear. I know with your glowing aura and good heart, all the angels will keep you safe and happy up there.

PS. If not too much to ask, if ever you meet my husband, please hug him for me.

Death and Love

A friend asked me today if I already healed after my husband’s death. And that I should not lose hope on love. I know she means well.

Seriously, I appreciate it a lot knowing that a person who experienced the same as mine is the best person to say such things to me.

I lost my husband to death and she (as she described), lost hers for another woman. Well, she is correct in a way, since our relationships both have ended. We both have went through the stages of grief. Which is totally different for each person.

As she narrated her story of how she managed to get out of depression and lucky for her to find another man in her life, I am an admirer. How she is able to speak her life and show compassion to people just like us. I wished her well and thanked her for her story of inspiration. That there is hope after a storm. And that the pain you feel will simply go away.

But what is keeping my mind from her story is that, pain (seriously) for a young widow like me is not the hardest part but instead, the memories.

When you lost the love of your life for another person, the pain cuts through the insides of you. Carefully removing all your sanity. When love is lost, you learn how to describe the deepest meaning of pain. You will keep questioning yourself what went wrong or what did you do wrong. As much as you can, you try your hardest to erase all the memories you had with that person. Ego is your enemy.

Love is equal to pain.

But when death cuts off love, honestly, there is no pain. There is only the continuous sound of deafening silence. It could be what they call sadness. I’m sure it’s not pain. Love has never really forsaken you, it is still there. There is no pain for a husband who never did hurt me with his passing. It is not his fault that he left, in fact he might not want to. He might have made a negotiation with the angel calling him, to let him stick with his wife for a little while. But maybe, that is not how things go in the world of spirits.

Love is equal to sadness.

In death, you don’t have a chance to meet him on a coffee shop or cross path on the streets on your way to work. It means, the small hope to revive the love between you will never happen as you have already laid his lifeless body on his grave. You cannot create more memories in death.

In divorce, your partner is still alive. A chance of meeting him once in your lifetime is possible. The small hope you deny in your heart to revive a love that was lost is actually probable. There is still a chance of filling in your memory bank. The sweetest part is you can still take you revenge if you want to. You can make him regret leaving you for another person. In death you cannot do that anymore.

Death makes you become humble and cherish life.

The difference is there and I do not want to compare that losing love through death is harder than losing love through annulment (or vice versa), these are two different cases, I suppose.

Coffee Energized Scrub, please?

photo credit mont albo

…and that’s with an hour of massage. Ahhh! This is life! Zzzzz…

This past few days I have been extremely busy and starting to get exhausted. My body has been begging me to book an appointment for massage since I came back from Boracay.

It is the first time I tried this package from Mont Albo because normally I would get my regular body massage at Nature’s Way. Since the place where it is located is just across my house, so I preferred to try it instead. I am also just lucky today that at 12nn is not yet their peak hour. Honestly, it has been my nth time going back to Mont Albo as a walk-in client, but everytime I inquire, they are always full. Which is just great! (Sarcastically speaking 😆)

For only 950 pesos, I must say that I have the relaxation my body was calling for. The aroma of the coffee scrub and the moderate pressure of my masseuse is just in perfect timing.

So definitely I will be back. That is if they are not fully booked when I return.

The Performer

She speaks so timidly, in a way you will think that she has the most soft spoken voice and the kindest heart.

She is beautiful, with all the definition of a woman could be. The one who has the flawless face and light-skinned tone. She is indeed a divah inside a closet.

After the show when she removes her make up and wigs, her real face is what she sees in the mirror. The girl who has a dream to reach success on her younger years. She will do anything to be on top and she didn’t mind how she will do it.

She is a performer. A divah inside a closet. But when the show ends and the curtains roll down, she looks at her true self on the mirror. Staring at herself wiping the tears, looking at the person she never met before.

Our Footprints

After a few years I went back to the place where it all started. Nostalgic.

With all the footprints embedded on the sand, I wished to see both the steps we made years ago. The four foot prints on the sand, each pair telling a story of love. Walking side by side at the same direction. But I know I will never find it again, just as you and I will never have a chance to meet again.

I know this is crazy, but a part of me has been trying to re-create this picture of you and me. With all the strangers who walked on the same direction us ours erasing our path of memory, I felt the past.

I am in the past.

Where memories are starting and everything is clear. When the sunset is the sign of another night of love and nature/

Is it always going to be like this, the moment I start to feel at home with you, that’s the time you will leave?  The very moment I figured out what I want to do with my life, that’s the time the wind will change.

Rush Hour

As I squeeze myself inside the crowd and find myself a comfortable seat, I couldn’t help but overhear a boy with his little sister and mother also trying to fit inside the bus.

Luckily, someone was kind enough to offer a seat to the mother and the sister but not for the little boy.

As he complained for almost half the trip saying that his feet are so tired to stand up and that he’s so sleepy. I couldn’t blame him as he is telling the truth. It is indeed a long traffic jam on a rush hour.

As we pass along the stretch of España Blvd. with the universities and schools on the view, the boy said, “gusto ko mag-aral dyan mama paglaki ko!”. His mom just smirked and said, “hmp, ang mahal, mahal dyan”.

And the rest of the trip the little boy continuously complain.

It’s just so nice to hear such innocent words from children. With their innocence come sincerity and our old dreams. As adults we are so overwhelmed with making money in order to live and we forget the kid screaming and knocking in our hearts, as if wanted to remind us of our forgotten dreams and simple wishes.