A Love Story that Never Was

I am Samantha.  They call me Sam.  I have a little story to share.

I was fifteen.  He was seventeen.  Too old to fall in love and yet too young to get married. Jeremy and I were two ordinary souls that crossed paths one sunny morning of June 1995 at the Bakersfield Catholic High School.  It all started with a simple chat, later on became good buddies, and then the closest of friends.  It was a platonic relationship to begin with.  We had our share of crushes and giggles ... too many to recall.  Our friendship remained that way until we came to the final months of senior high.

As far as I can remember, we have grown so fond of each other's company that we already mastered the in's and out's of ourselves.  Those were too many Mondays, Tuesdays, Saturdays when we would walk side by side up to the bus station.  Never did I entertain any thoughts that we will one day fall into each other's arms... foolish thoughts!

Eventually, everything became a struggle in school.  The cheering competition was fast approaching, and I, being the squad's cheerleader, had been under tumultuous pressure.  My schedule had pushed me off the limits!  I cried rivers of tears, but my friends never left my side. One of them kept on telling me that someone from our class is very much worried about me, but she would not tell who it was.

Around that same time, Jeremy also shared with me his plans of courting a new girl in school.  I was thinking it could be Trixie or Jenny ... and the list goes on.  I insisted on asking who the girl was but all I ever got from him was silence.  He just looked at me without saying a word and then would change the topic of our conversation.

No, this can't be.  It's wrong!  Why do I feel jealous about him courting a new girl?  I have feelings for him... something beyond a friend.  Erase ... erase.  We're just good friends.

Sometime in the midst of the hustle and bustle, Jeremy cornered me in our classroom and finally admitted that I am indeed the girl that he wants to court.  (Blushing here.)

Suddenly, every school day became bearable.  The cheering practice became a thing of the past ... we won first place, anyway!  I was always excited to go to school anticipating his surprise for me that day.  From then on, I started to weave dreams from a spider's thread. Whatever he says sounded like a sonata in my ears.  Songs and poetry suddenly had meaning in my life.  Ah, sweet memories!

But all stories have to have endings.  Regardless of the length of the plot, there will always be a final chapter.  Ours occurred Valentine's Day... What could have been our final Hearts' Day before graduation and what could have been the beginning of our life as boyfriend/girlfriend was ruined by a girl named Rebecca.  She's not from our school.  From what I heard, it was love at first sight for them.  The spell was broken.  What magic could it still bring?

I set him free believing that perhaps, we were really not meant for each other.

Today, five years to be exact, I am sitting here alone in my room ... mingling with my pen and paper, listening to sad songs on the radio ... and still hoping for that particular day when I would complete a love story that never was.

She Waited for Me

January 12, 1998.  The date my maternal grandfather died of stroke.  The last time he had an attack was in 1978, one year before I was born.  For twenty years, he lived a life of being a hemiplegic.  I was already in 3rd year PT proper when I came to know the facts about the dreaded cerebrovascular accident (a.k.a. stroke).  I was able to note that my grandfather presents with signs of shoulder subluxation, nonfluent aphasia, and other typical manifestations indicative of the disease.  I admired him a lot because of his courage and determination to fight the disabilities.  His fighting spirit enabled him to withstand the complications in a span of two decades.  The last time Lolo was admitted to the hospital was two months prior to his death, and he never stayed there fore long.  Three days before my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, he went around the neighborhood for short visits - a thing he never did for a long time.  By the moment he took his late-morning nap, he never woke up any more.


Nearly six months after his demise, my maternal grandmother grandmother followed.  It was July 11, 1998.  She was a healthy individual and was never diagnosed of any illness except for minor colds and fever some years back.  I am now a 4th year PT student.  On the first week of my senior year, we took up Pathology and studied about different conditions and diseases related to our would-be profession.   I never knew that on the very same day we dealt on topics about neoplasms, she was also admitted at the hospital because of intermittent headaches, vomiting, and weightloss.  The following day, her brain CT scan came out and the diagnosis revealed that she had cancer cells in her brain.  It seemed like I was hit by an iceberg.  The clinical finding sounds Greek to me no more.  I knew that it was something serious.


I see to it that I visit her every single day in the hospital.  I often tried to sound happy in front of her.  She always scolded me whenever she hears me complain about difficulties I have in school.  She reminded me to just keep on studying hard.  On the first week of her confinement, Lola's system cooperated well with all the medications so the family agreed to put her on chemotherapy.  However, things drastically changed.  Two days prior to discharge, she became very ill.  The chemo plan had to be canceled because the doctors told us it will not work.  Later on, her level of consciousness regressed.  She became obtunded.


My major subjects began putting pressure on us, so I was not able to visit Lola immediately when she was discharged home for palliative treatment.


Saturday night, I finally found time to see her.  I was the only one who came late, perhaps around 7:30 PM.  I saw her lying very ill on her bed.  She was surrounded by all of her nine children, her siblings, and all her grandchildren.  There were three IV lines dangling by her side. Her breathing was far from normal, but the rhythm was still constant.  She neither moved nor blinked.  An aunt constantly monitors Lola's  blood pressure.

Eventually, my aunt asked for my assistance to double check her vital signs.  The reading I got from was very low, so I called my uncle (who's a nurse) to verify.  I just held her hand.  Lola tried to open her eyes once to try to stare at me ... and I saw it.  She gasped for air, and then she's gone.


Deafening silence.


Mixed emotions filled my senses.  Anguish.  Relief.  Sadness.  My grandparents would never see me graduate and receive my degree.  They would have been my first patients if they were alive.  She's gone.  They are both gone.


I know she loved me very much, for even before her final journey, before flying away to a place called eternity ... she waited for me.

Scent of Her

The tall trees in the woods
serves green and watersheds.
The clouds up in the sky
are then as white as silk.


But now all things have changed
'cause people are so numb,
they keep on dumping wastes
on every vacant lot.


And this is one last cry
to every citizen,
take good care of our earth
so we'll not miss her scent.