When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
Siren's Song
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
I admire certain people for their strength, and I respect them for having gone through something that I haven't, and thus cannot empathize or comprehend fully. It's nearing the end of 2003, and I've lost count of how many wakes I've attended.
A dear friend's mother just passed away like two days ago, slipping away into perhaps a better place in her sleep. The doctors concluded it was a sudden heart attack. Myocardial infarction. His dad was just resting next to her, peacefully and soundly asleep. Even though my friend related the whole incident ever so matter-of-factly, one can sense the heavy undercurrents of pain and anguish that runs under the composed and resigned countenance and demeanor.
He is the only child. His dad took it hard. I can imagine the sudden flood of emotions and total disorientation and confusion when one realizes that his or her loved one has left behind nothing but an empty shell that's blue and cold. His dad visibly suffered from the loss. Yet him, my friend, was disturbingly in control, almost too much in control.
He is tired. I doubt he's slept much, having to comfort and soothe and take care and coax his father into sleep or slumber, or at least to imbibe some nourishment. Being the only child, he had to lodge a police report, call up the casket services and arrange for the funeral matters all by himself. For this, for his strength and for his ability to carry out duties to be borne by a filial son, he earned my utmost respect. I take pride in my walls of glass and spikes and concrete, but he makes me wonder if I were that impenetrable.
