Remembering My Son, 11 Years After

I still find myself smiling wistfully everytime I see a new dinosaur book on display at the bookstore. Part of me wants to grab the book, purchase it and bring it home to include it among your things that are kept in a cabinet close to my work desk at home.

Eleven years later, I don't cry as much and I can talk about you now without having to shed a tear, remembering you with smiles more than with sadness. You must be a young man now, all of 15 years old. When I see Cholo who lives across the street from Mama, it's like I see you because you were both born on the same year. I wonder if you still love dinosaurs. I'd like to believe that you do.

I guess you know (and you see clearly from where you are...) that so much has happenned to our family over the last 11 years. How we all have grown individually, hopefully for the better :) Your sister is now about to enter college but she still remembers you and misses you like crazy. She's become one hell of a photographer and I see a lot of you in her very artistic work. She's going to be a doctor someday, and I know that has been influenced greatly by her experience of you.

You see, no matter how many years have gone by, you continue to live on in each one of us. This year we came out with a book that celebrated your memory. "Heaven's Butterfly" has helped countless children, not just here, but overseas as well. Your legacy continues to expand and evolve and though we would have wanted for you to remain with us, I have now begun to see the higher purpose as to why you had to leave us after four years. God's ways are not our ways. Losing you continues to be the most painful experience I have ever gone through but the pain has somehow eased because I am able to share the memory of you in so many ways. There is Migi's Corner, the grief education classes, Griefshare, the book, the kids Good Grief workshops... your loss has not been in vain. Your life continues in every child whose life has been touched by the corners or the stories about you that we have shared. God has truly been faithful.


For the last decade or so, since you've been gone, I've had this strange fascination for the monarch butterfly who every winter flies to the coast of California (specifically in Pacific Grove) to cluster in select groves of eucalyptus and pine where they spend the rest of the winter, snug and safe with other monarchs. Dad and I finally made it there in 2006 and we marveled at the beauty and resiliency of these orange and black winged creatures. It was only a few weeks ago when I read about them and suddenly it all made sense... this fascination for monarchs that I;ve held since you left us. Diane Ackerman writes in "The Rarest of the Rare" --- "They are silent, beautiful, fragils; they are harmless and clean; they are determined; they are graceful...Like the imagination, they dart from one sunlit spot to another. To the Mexicans who call them las palomas, they are the souls of children who died during the past year, fluttering on their way to heaven."

We love you Migs and we miss you. And we will always be connected to those we love no matter the time that has passed. We keep you in our hearts, forever.

Image from "The Dinosaur Day"

When Grief Comes Full Circle

“There are two ways to live; one is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is.” - Albert Einstein

San Francisco, California --- Sometimes you never know where the road leads.

I’ve been in the U.S. for the last two weeks, primarily, to attend a conference on death and bereavement and take grief therapy classes in Dallas, Texas and now, I have found my way to San Francisco.

While here, I did a mini-book tour of “Heaven’s Butterfly” and read to a total of more or less two hundred Fil-Am, African-American and Hispanic children in a few schools in San Francisco. The experience, both moving and healing, affirmed how pain and loss are universal and knows no color, race or creed.

I was blessed by the children’s reaction to the story, touched by their sad and innocent faces and at the same time happy to see them fully engaged. The book, re-tells the story of the first year of our lives after my 4-year old son Miguel, or Migi died in 1998, narrated from my then 7-year olf daughter’s point of view.

At the Bessie Carmichael Elementary School also called the Filipino Education Center in downtown San Francisco, the children opened up about their own losses after hearing the story. Many of them had lost grandparents, siblings, good friends, and a few parents. The children were eager to ask questions after the storytelling. They wanted to know how I felt when Migi died, asked me if I still cried, or if I thought about him to this day and what I missed most. These queries came from children whose ages ranged from 6 to 10 years old. It was an amazing morning, and also, the anniversary of a childhood loss -- the sudden death of my father from a heart attack at age 49, 28 years ago. It was very healing for me to be telling the story that day and being in the midst of those children.


I spent a better part of the afternoon of that day, talking about the mid-life journey with a friend while watching boats navigate the beautiful San Francisco bay. We talked about how difficult some of the last years had been and how a lot of pruning and discernment were done for the self, in one’s career, relationships and friendships. I shared one of the biggest realizations I’ve had when relationships end in the mid-life years -- “It’s not about whether you are good or bad. You simply become different people.” When a friendship dies, leave no room for rancor or regret, and instead be thankful for what was and move on, keeping yourself open to the possibilities of new experiences, relationships and blessings. There have been many unexpected gifts that have been given to me at this point in my life.


The next day, I again read “Heaven’s Butterfly” this time, to the children at the St. Charles Catholic school in the Mission district of San Francisco, and was once more humbled by the sharing of their own stories of loss. Children, store within them deep wells of strength and resilience, and if we give them the opportunities to draw from those wells, they are able to process and heal in a healthy manner. At the last class where I spoke, a nine year old Hispanic boy shyly raised his hand to say that he could identify with the story because he had lost an older brother three years ago to a drive-by shooting. I asked the young boy what his name was, and when he said, “Miguel”, I didn’t quite know how to react and felt a lump form in my throat. I gave him a copy of the book and was rewarded with a smile and a very gracious thank you.

Today, I went to Yosemite National Park where because of its majesty, one immediately realizes how small one is in the grand scheme of things. On the way there, we stopped in a little town called Mariposa, which, serendipitously, is Spanish, for butterfly. I went into a shop to look at some stones that I could use for some activities in grief therapy. At the end of my visit, as I was paying for my purchase, the owner, an American Indian lady with wise eyes, gave me a knowing look and pressed some green colored stones into my pal,m.“These will help you remember the road you have been on, to take from it what is good, to help you in whatever it is you want to accomplish in the future.”

Truly, this trip has made me realize that there is no death because love lives on forever. We carry in our hearts, the memories and footprints of all our loved ones who have gone ahead of us. Like the circumstances of our lives, and the way we choose to respond to them, they shape us, and help steer the course for the journey that lies ahead.

I will be conducting, Good Grief! A workshop and playgroup for children ages 7-10 who have lost loved ones through death, on Saturday, May 22 from 9:30-12noon. To reserve a slot, please call Pia at 994-7672 or email griefisajourney@gmail.com

The Aftermath of Losing Amiel Alcantara

ADDENDUM: It is also important for the children of Theresa Torres to get the help that they need and we pray that the family recognizes and realizes this. It may be in their best interest to be moved to a different school or city lest they be crucified by less kinder members of the community. They are children and need to be protected too.

Many parents have come forwarded and written about their own horror stories in their respective schools parking lots. If you have a story to share, please send your details to cathybabao@gmail.com We shall keep it private but as a community, we also have a responsibility to all our children to do everything that we can to keep them safe when they are away from us.

Fly High! Bidding Amiel Good-bye

Even grown men cry.

At 11:30 AM today, the Chapel of the Holy Angels at the Ateneo de Manila University Grade School was filled to the rafters as members of his family, friends and the school community bid Amiel Alcantara good-bye in a mass that was concelebrated by university president, Fr. Ben Nebres, and Fr. Kit Bautista, grade school headmaster.

In a tribute to his youngest brother, Avie Alcantara said that Amiel had wanted to achieve three things in life -- "to be an Eagle scout, a soldier and to be legendary." By dying early, Avie said, he managed to achieve two -- now he is a soldier of God and in a manner of speaking, has become legendary. "I know understand why he seemed to be more advanced than me even if I was older than him. Why he used hair gel at an early age, why he had a celphone and I didn't, why he used Axe deo cologne and why he was so adept at YM. I guess it was because he was going to leave us early."

Avie's talk was followed by a beautiful, moving five-minute video tribute made by his uncle, set to the song "Gone Too Soon". At this point, there was no dry eye in the entire church, including mine.

Pepe Alcantara gave the response on behalf of the family and in his message he made some salient and very insightful points --


For his son Amiel he said -- "Forgive me for not being there with you. I would have wanted to be there, to hold you, to protect you." Pepe recalled tearfully how at 6:45 AM on the day that Amiel died he had wondered why after their family van had backed out of the driveway, Amiel asked the driver to stop and he got off, rushed to Pepe and gave him a tight hug. "It was unusual for him to do that. Now I understand why," Pepe said, his voice breaking. "It was a day", he narrated, "that began with the tight hug of a much beloved son and ended with him inside a coffin." The lesson here, he says, is that when someone hugs you, makes sure you hug the person back and that yoiu do it well because you'll never know if it will be your last." He then shared with the crowd how, on the second day of the wake, a third grade student approached him and gave him an envelope, "I need to return this to you..." the young boy said. And when Pepe asked him what was inside, the boy told him that there was 111 pesos inside -- Amiel had been giving him money to supplement his allowance because he lived all the way and had to travel from Cavite. Amiel, was truly selfless even at such a young age.


Pepe then spoke about his family and how he saluted his son Avie for his courgaeous act of pulling Amiel out of the wreck that tragic Tuesday morning. He thanked Yaya Tata for saving Avie and daughter Jana from harm and in the process putting herself in harm's way instead. "Tata has been with us for 40 years, she was Melanie's yaya and is a second mom to my children. We are forever grateful to her."

Lastly, Pepe spoke to the community, asking them to be more protective of "the seeds in this community." He asked them -- "How can we regenerate, or even begin the process of regeneration if you are unable to protect the seeds that you have here." "Magpakatotoo tayo," he said solemnly, "How can regeneration happen if a child cannot even finish his sandwich..." and his vboice trailed off.


He spoke to Amiel's classmates from 4-Manobo-- "Amiel will be your angel, but I am sure he will not haunt you," he said in jest. "You will always be with us, every moment of every single day," he finished as he threw a sad gaze at where Amiel lay.



The morning's mass was ended with a beautiful release of blue and white balloons, an act that gave momentary joy as each member of Amiel's class released a balloon withg a message attached to it. The balloons were emblazoned with "Fly high Amiel" - a line that holds special meaning to anyone who has ever spent time as a student at the Ateneo. The balloons were released by Amiel's Grade 4 classmates and family members at the hearse slowly made its way to through the grade school driveway.

Fly high, Amiel. Fly heavenward, back to your real Home. As Avie Alcantara put it so beautifully, "In God we trust. In God, Amiel, we entrust."

Special Report On Amiel Alcantara

GMA-7 News came over yesterday to get my thoughts on Amiel's passing. In this video also is my friend, Noemi Dado who founded The Compassionate Friends where we are co-founders as well.

Amiel's story is one that has riveted every parent because his death shakes every parent's heart to the core. Later today he will finally be laid to rest. The saddest part of the grief journey is when everyone has left, when the loved one has been buried (or cremated) and you return home and realize that your family is no longer complete. This is when the anguish, the longing and the sadness truly sets in. Now more than ever, the Alcantara's will need our prayers. Let us all remember them as they begin the long road to healing and finding their "new normal" without Amiel.


For the latest Philippine news stories and videos, visit GMANews.TV

Losing Amiel Alcantara - An Update

My heart is heavier now than it was earlier today when I started to piece together what had happenned to Amiel Alcantara, the Ateneo fourth grader who was hit by a CRV at the Ateneo de Manila grade school parking lot yesterday afternoon.

My husband and I have just returned from his wake and I am shocked, stunned and restless over the circumstances surrounding his death. The Alcantara's actually almost lost three children, and not just one.

Amiel, his 65-year old Yaya Tata (who has been with the family for 40 plus years), his 7 year old sister, and 13 year old brother Javi, together with the driver, were already so close to their car when the CRV driven by Teresa Torres, careened from behind and hit Amiel. Yaya Tata was able to push the youngest one and the elder boy out of the way but was too far to get to Amiel. Yaya Tata had herself suffered injuries and fractures and is set to have surgery next week. The most heart-wrenching thing about the whole thing is that it was the Alcantara's driver and 13 year old Javi who had to extricate Amiel from beneath the van. The impact was so strong that three other vehicles were damaged in the process before the vehicle finally came to a stop. How does a 13 year old young boy cope with the image of seeing his younger brother that way?

It was the driver who took Amiel to the New Era hospital and they were en route to the hospital in another Ateneo parent's car when Amiel died in his arms. Amiel's father, Pepe Alcantara, former chair of the UP Student Council in the 1980s, and his mother, Niann, were no longer able to see their youngest son alive. It is a tragedy of such great proportions.

The CRV that careened through the parking lot was around 25 meters away from where the kids were standing. Apparently, for some reasons that remain yet unclear, the driver had stepped heavily on the accelerator because a screeching sound, akin to those that you hear at drag races, was heard by several witnesses before the car sped and hit Amiel.

The saddest part is that according to reports, Mrs. Torres, herself a mother of a fourth grader at the Ateneo, has not offered any apologies to the Alcantara family and claims that it was all an accident. I really don't know if being unapologetic is a legal strategy or a symptom of post-traumatic stress. Charges of homicide, reckless imprudence and several counts of perjury have supposedly been filed against Mrs. Torres who remains in custody at a Quezon City police station early today.

The Alcantara's come from a large, closely-knit family and I was comforted to see many family members and friends at the wake this evening. I was seated beside Amiel's youngest sister who though smiling, appeared a bit dazed. "Sana that car was not there...it just kept moving and moving and would not stop," she told us when we asked her about the accident. My heart goes out to these children, I'm almost certain that this is a loss that they will carry with them forever. I only find comfort in knowing that Amiel is now happy and safe and whole with Jesus. I pray that justice will be served because Teresa Torres is a mother with a family too. May her family find courage and enlightenment. May God hold Amiel's siblings and family members close, protect them, and may they all be filled with the Holy Spirit so that they may be guided at this very difficult time.

Prayers For Amiel Alcantara, Ateneo Grade School Parking Lot Accident Victim

I couldn't sleep last night.

At around 10:30 PM, P came rushing into the room and asked me if I had received a text about a young boy who had died at the Ateneo Grade School earlier that day. I immediately got up and we both looked at L, all of ten, who was fast asleep on the bed. "He was L's age..." she said.

The details I have are still sketchy but my heart is so heavy and it goes out to everyone involved in the accident. The loss of a child is always, such a complicated loss. It becomes an even greater and more difficult loss to grapple with when an accident is involved.

Amiel. That was the young boy's name. A beautiful Hebrew name that means "friend of God". According to initial reports, he had not been feeling well that day and the school had advised his father about it. Amiel has a brother who is the seventh grade and so when dismissal time came, they were supposedd to all go home together. The boys were already in their car when Amiel got hungry and so he and his yaya decided to go to the grade school canteen to buy something.

Meanwhile, inside a van, a 30something mom, had instructed her driver to go and get her young son. If you are a parent, you know how sunduan time at an elementary school can be such a nightmare. The mother said she would just take care of moving the vehicle if need be.

From behind the vehicle come Amiel and his yaya. And that is when the accident takes place. It is vague to me but according to accounts, the van was backing up and hit the young boy and the boy must have yelled out. Rather than stepping on the brakes, the mom panics and hits the accelerator instead...

That mother could have been me. That boy, God forbid, could have been my son. I pick up my children everyday from school. I know what the traffic is like. I've heard of children who have been sideswiped in the parking lots of elementary schools all over the country. I've had a cousin who got backed up by a jeepney in the parking lot of Don Bosco Makati in the 1970s, died for a minute but came back. Amiel did not make it. And now there is a pall of gloom all over the Ateneo campus and in every parents heart.

To lose a child is every parents nightmare. I know how it is. I've been to hell and back. My heart breaks once more. Amiel was my son's age, the only son I have now. I heard his older brother saw the accident happen. It is a major tragedy of great proportions. So traumatic for everyone involved.

When something like this happens we are saddenned, we grieve, we are angry, we are called to action... What can parents do?

The tragedy is a wake-up call. Traffic and parking need to be re-assessed, not only at the Ateneo, but perhaps in most elementary schools where the traffic has become a daily nightmare. It happenned on a sprawling (but crowded with cars) Loyola campus. It could just as easily have happenned inside a Greenhills subdivision, on Ortigas avenue, in a cramped parking lot in Makati. Parents and school administrators need to join hands to find a solution lest another young child loses his life.

I pray for all the families involved. I pray that they get the therapy they need. A child's grief cannot be swept under the rug. They may seem okay on the surface, but when it is not dealt with and processed, it is a sadness and a loss
that they carry with them all throughout their lives. One that affects psyche, behavior, relationships, and life attitudes. I think of Amiel's kuya, of his family and of his classmates. I want to reach out to them, to do activities with his classmates, to read them our story. I think of that young mother who accidentally ran over him. How do you live with something like that?

My prayer is for everyone involved to be wrapped in the love, support and prayers of family and friends. It will be a very long journey for all. Faith and forgiveness will be the keys to moving on. But to get that point is one that will entail navigating a very long and arduous road. The only way to find the light is to go through the tunnel, there are no shortcuts. I am sure that Amiel is now happy in heaven, he whose name also means "My people belong to God." May God be with all of them, with all of us who grieve this tragedy, at this time.

John Travolta's Grief

Irregardless of whether his son Jett had autism or not is no longer the question.

A son is dead, and John and Kelly Travolta's life will forever be changed by it. How devastating and sad to start the year on a very sad note. It will be a long process for them. I do not know how Scientology deals with matters of loss or if they believe in eternal life at all.

My heart grieves for the loss of their son. One of the most comprehensive reports I have read on Jett's death appears on The Huffington Post. The account includes a video of the family taken in Paris only a few weeks ago. They seemed so happy and you can see that John was a very loving father, especially to Jett. How life can change in the blink of an eye.

Our prayers go their family at this very difficult period. I pray that in God's time they will be able to use this experience to become even better people and improve the lives of others.

Migi's 14th Birthday In Heaven

My son Migi marks his 14th birthday in heaven on Thursday, February 21, 2008. He has been living there, with the heavenly Father, for close to nine years now.

"Does it become easy after nine years?" Many people have asked me this question. I choose to answer the question with both a yes and a no.

Yes, because after nine years you do not cry as much, but no, because you continue to remember. There is not a day that goes by when you do not think about the little boy who filled your life with love and laughter but was gone to soon.

Yes, because God is gracious and merciful and over the last nine years He has given me and my family the peace that passes all understanding. No, because there will always be that void in your heart that no one else, but God can fill.

Yes, because out of his loss, Migi's Corner was borne and because of it many children now have a place of solace while they themselves heal. No, because with the opening of each new project you relive all over the again, the reason why the project came to be in the first place, and so it always is an emotional and weepy time.

Yes, because in spite of losing one son, it is like we have gained many children. Migi continues to live on in the heart of every child who has ever spent time in any of the 14 corners now in existence.

But God is all-wise and all-knowing and ever gracious because He always sends his comfort, and allows a message to come down from heaven every year in the week leading to his birthday, since Migi left us 10 years ago.

On several years it was the opening of a corner, timed perfectly with a birthday.

On another it was receiving a whole box of goody bags from a donor (who did not know it was his birthday) with the words "Happy Birthday!" emblazoned on it.

This year it was the mural on the latest Migi's Corner, a joint project between our foundation and my Maryknoll High School Batch '82. The project is a daycare to be used by the children of the employees of Miriam College. Integrated is a breastfeeding corner that will be made open to the teachers and the single mothers who study at the college.

All of Migi's Corners have murals that depict Migi and his favorite dinosaurs in various settings - the sea, the park, in a forest, on a beach, under the sea. Yesterday, as I stood to gaze at the just completed mural - painted lovingly by my friends Fen, Vena, Raf and some of their other friends from U.P. and UST Fine Arts - I could not help but smile and sigh at the way God works. Uknown to them, at the time that they painted the mural, I had just completed a children's story, for release, later this year, about our family's experience. I excerpt here a portion of that story...

Migi was smaller than other kids his age but he was way smarter than most other four year olds. He could not run as fast, or climb trees, but he loved to read a lot and he enjoyed telling stories. He loved reading about dinosaurs and knew all their names by heart. Migi could name you all the dinosaurs in the whole wide world in a flash!

One time, mommy bought him a sticker book of dinosaurs and he stuck them all over our bedroom….

On his bed…on the chairs…on his cabinets… his bedsheets and on the walls.


Migi and I liked to play a special game. Before entering our room, or before he would let me pass through the door, he would place his arm across and say, “What’s the magic word Ate?” And I would say, “God is good all the time!” and then he would open the gate, and let me in. Oh how we loved to play all sorts of games!

And here is the mural...


So my answer to the question above -- no, because a mother never forgets her child, but yes, because He always sends his comfort and because, in spite of everything, God is good all the time.

A Baby In Heaven

This beautiful poem was shared to me by blogmate Dine Racoma who lost her beloved grandson just last week. Writing, like art and music, is a healthy and creative way of expressing one's grief. The poem will tug at any bereaved parent's heart.

You came to us
God's loving gift
Our baby boy
Our source of joy.

You gave us love
The purest kind
Your perfect smile
Your touch so mild.

We had our hopes
Our dreams, our plans
Until one day
God reached out His hand.

He called you home
He needed you
To join His host of Angels
So mighty, so strong.

You said, "Yes Lord."
Then bid us good bye
"I'll watch over you
From heaven up high."

Dear Joseph Michael
Our baby, our Angel
You are God's gift to us
And you are our gift to God.

We love you,
Daddy Joseph Angelo
Mommy Caren Marie
Ate Sofia Bernice
Ate Agatha Clarisse

Joseph Michael G. Racoma
20 August-3 October 2007

Thank you Dine for sharing this. Our prayers are with you and your family. Grieve well.

From Mourning To Moving On

MANILA, Philippines - Next year, it will be 10 years since he died.
Does loss really become more bearable with the passage of time? How does loss transform you? It has taken me close to 10 years to find the answers to these questions, and the exercise continues to be a work in progress.Let me try to explain by telling you my story.

In 1998, my 4-year-old son Migi died of complications from open-heart surgery to repair a congenital heart defect. We were told that there was only a five percent chance of mortality, so my husband and I decided, after much prayer and discussion, to go through with the procedure. Twenty-four hours after surgery, Migi lay in a coma, never to awaken until he was called home to heaven in the early evening of June 3, 1998. A few days before his death, we had been told to expect the worst, some sort of forewarning or preparation. Nevertheless, when death comes, the pain still hits you with such full force and you are completely knocked out of your senses. In addition to this, at the time of Migi's death, I was six months pregnant with a third child.

Death changes you in ways you can never imagine. One has to walk the actual journey to understand the terrain of griefwork and mourning. People who have had no prior experience in losing someone they love, no matter how well-intentioned, will never understand the depth and breadth of the loss that you experience. And though pain is universal, every loss is unique. Two parents who have each lost a child may have similarities in the ways that they grieve, but each one's experience will be as unique as the relationship that the parent had with his or her child.
A widow's pain is not the same as that of someone who has lost a parent, a sibling or a child. Yet, all of them will go through a period of mourning and recovery.

Does one ever really recover from a loss? I prefer to say that eventually, one gets to move on and get on with the rest of one's life, but never really fully and completely recovers from it. If you are brave enough to completely embrace the pain of your loss and stay with it, then you can emerge a better and more com-passionate human being.

When you lose someone you love, there are only two ways you are changed, you either become bitter, or you become better. I opted to take the latter road.

But how do you get there, and when? There is no timetable for grieving. You can allow yourself to grieve for as long as necessary, so long as you do not harm yourself, or become harmful to others. Initially, there is a period where you just want to be by yourself and with your sadness. That is perfectly okay and acceptable. However, this period should not be extended unnecessarily, especially if other people depend on you for their existence - children, spouses, parents.

Everyone grieves a loss in a family, but in many different ways and degrees. Dr. Kathleen Gilbert, my professor in grief psychology at the University of Indiana, likes to say, "In one family, there may be one loss, but many griefs."

Acceptance and communication are essential to the healing process. You cannot move on if there is no acceptance. Says the February 2007 issue of the Journal of American Medical Association: "Acceptance was the most frequently experienced (positive) grief indicator, and yearning was the dominant negative grief indicator from one to 24 months postloss." Yearning for the loved one is the most difficult emotion that one will have to deal with, especially in the first two years after the death. Does it get better after the second year? Yes, slowly, painfully, but in time, it does.

What are some of the things I have found personally helpful in my own grief journey? First and foremost is prayer. I cannot begin to tell you the countless times I have gone down on my knees when the sadness became too difficult to bear and almost overwhelmed me. God's word and His faithfulness are what saw me and my family through all the dark nights of our souls. It is a comfort that we now give to other people who are bereaved, through a grief recovery program called Griefshare.

The second most helpful thing for me was to find a way to communicate my pain. Women are much better at this because when they grieve, there is a social element to it. We like to talk about our pain to anyone who will care to listen. Journaling is an exercise that both men and women can use to help alleviate the heaviness in their hearts. All you need is a pen and paper and a place where you can be alone with your thoughts. Write away your pain.

Third, and perhaps the most important tool, if you can call it that, was the act of reaching out to others who are also in pain. Born out of the experience of losing Migi was a project called Migi's Corner, a play area for pediatric patients situated in various government hospitals throughout the country. Another friend and bereaved mother, Noemi Dado, together with Alma Miclat, helped put up The Compassionate Friends, a monthly grief support group for bereaved parents. After her daughter's tragic death, Gina De Venecia set up the Ina Foundation that seeks to provide a shelter and counseling services for bereaved mothers. There are countless other foundations set up by people who have lost loved ones. I believe it is when we step out of the shadows of our own loss and pain and begin to truly reach out to others who walk the same path, that we truly heal.

This article was published in the Sunday Inquirer Magazine, April 8, 2007

Caring for the self and Remembering a Son

I always get a little crazy and blue in the week leading up to Migi's birthday. Somehow this year was more difficult than the previous ones even if I was now close to nine years away from his loss. Perhaps the knowledge that he is now a teen-ager triggered my deep sense of loss this time around.


For the uninformed, Migi is my 4 year old son who died in June 1998 from complications due to an open heart surgery. It's been close to nine years now and yesterday, February 21, I like to think that he turned 13 in heaven.

My good friend T, and I hied off to Tagaytay early Monday morning for a huge slice of quiet time. We decided to stay overnight at one of my soul sanctuaries -- the Good Shepherd Convent in Tagaytay City. God always knows what we need even before we ask for it and looking back now on the events that have transpired over the last four days, I was certainly meant to be with the Good Shepherd sisters last February 19.

We arrived early enough to savor the mid-morning breeze and were warmly welcomed by the sisters. Although I am no longer a practicing Catholic, spending time at the convent, amidst it's lovely gardens and being so close to nature, has always been a healing experience for me. T spent the greater part of the morning talking to Sister Rose while I settled quietly into our spartan room on the convent's third floor and caught up with much-needed sleep. The 19th was the start of a personal 3-day hiatus from life's stresses and a shutting out of everything and everyone (except family and very close friends). After lunch, T and I each sequestered a hammock and we just hung out there alternately meditating, chatting and reading God's word. I know, it sounds like a weird combination but that's how T and I manage to throw our cares and worries to the wind. To each her own formula.


Sometime in the early afternoon, a bit of distressing news came to me and I was momentarily taken over by a deep sadness. Taking hold of my Bible, I turned to my devotional that day, and how quickly the Lord addressed the cries of my heart. Psalm 23 - The Lord is my Shepherd was my reading for the day. And to add even further comfort, it was like someone asked me - "And where do you find yourself this day?" - at the Good Shepherd convent! What further reassurance did I need from the Lord that everything would be all right and He would take care of all my anxieties? HE had spoken loud and clear to me that afternoon.


When it became a little cooler, T and I moved down to where the labyrinth was and we took turns walking it. Coming to the convent and walking the labyrinth has always been part of my rituals whenever I needed to make a major decision or needed enlightenment on certain issues. That day was no exception. To the uninitiated, a labyrinth, as defined by the Lessons for Life website "is an ancient symbol that relates to wholeness. It combines the imagery of the circle and the spiral into a meandering but purposeful path. The Labyrinth represents a journey to our own center and back again out into the world. Labyrinths have long been used as meditation and prayer tools. At its most basic level the labyrinth is a metaphor for the journey to the center of your deepest self and back out into the world with a broadened understanding of who you are."





T went ahead and walked the sacred path as I sat in the shade to meditate further and take photos of the beautiful scenery. When she was done, it was my turn to enter the path and think about my life and the decisions I needed to make. Try as I could to focus and steady my breathing, I was bothered with too many issues buzzing around in my head. When I finally got to the center of meditation, I closed my eyes and just stared at the bowl of water with lilies that was in front of me. When I opened my eyes, the thought, "BE still and know that I am God." came to me and was repeated several times. Prayer as they say is always practiced two ways - one is when you talk to God in a very personal way to thank Him, praise Him and and ask for whatever it is you need; and the second type of prayer is when you just sit still and listen to His voice and His leading.

T and I called it a day at 9PM and though it was all quiet in the halls and pitch black outside our window, save for a few stars, we slept oh-so soundly. I had no worries. H was home with the kids, allowing me this private time to unwind and regroup in God's garden. The following morning, we woke up refreshed and greeted by a glorious sunrise. After a hearty breakfast (oh how the nuns love to feed their guests with delicious home cooked meals!) we again hibernated on our hammocks for some more quiet time before heading back into the city.

Time spent quietly in HIS presence and surrounded by the magnificent work of His hands is am experience I would recommend to all mid-lifers. It is an advocacy I have begun to espouse to all women I know. Quiet time always helps us return to our center and our focus on HIM who knows our heart .

God is ever present in the sunsets of our lives...



as well as the sunrise...





and He has his eye on us 24/7. Matthew 8:26 says - "Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. are you not worth much more than they?"



Whatever you are going through right now, or wherever you are on your own life's journey, God has placed you there for a reason.

"Your life is a sacred journey. And it is about change, growth, discovery, movement, transformation, continuously expanding your vision of what is possible, stretching your soul, learning to see clearly and deeply, listening to your intuition, taking courageous challenges at every step along the way. You are on the path... exactly where you are meant to be right now... And from here, you can only go forward, shaping your life story into a magnificent tale of triumph, of healing of courage, of beauty, of wisdom, of power, of dignity, and of love." - Caroline Adams

Next -- Pampering the body and the spirit

A Poem to Remember Loved Ones By

A typhoon passes through the city today and we find ourselves awash with grey and dreary skies. Not exactly the best weather to find oneself in a few days before the nation commemorates the day when we remember loved ones now gone. All Soul's Day (November 1) is fast approaching and in the Philippines, everyone who has lost a loved one stops to pay respect to the one who has gone ahead, back to their REAL HOME.

Allow me for a moment to remember my son Migi who returned to our Heavenly Father eight years ago. Serendipitously, while searching for some files on my computer today, I came across this beautiful poem that spoke to my heart. I believe that God lead me to this poem so that I might be able to share it with all of you who have lost loved ones too. In spite of the gloomy weather, it brought a smile to my day and I have found comfort in it, I pray that as you read this you do too...

An Irish Funeral Prayer

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.

Source: derived from a sermon written by Henry Scott Holland and delivered in St. Paul's (London) on 15 May 1910, at which time the body of King Edward VII was lying in state at Westminster. Although not originally derived from Irish writings, versions of this sermon have been used at many Irish and Catholic funerals over the years.