Dear Himaya,

I’ve realized that the most difficult things to let go of are the things we think we possess. That is why I carefully remind myself that you are not mine. It makes it easier to let you go.

I have read a lot of times how people say that we are not just made up of genes. We are made up of everything we can find in the universe. Each of us has the universe in us. And so you are not just made up of Papa and me. You came through us, as Khalil Gibran has said in his poem, but you do not come from us. And every time I say these words to myself while I am mourning, the words help me let you go.

I have also learned to not feel sad about the future I imagined where you will not be anymore. It used to hurt so much remembering all the plans I made for you. Now I have learned to imagine a different kind of future wherein you are the one singing songs over our heads, watching over us, guiding our paths.

There are only a few of us here on Earth that I know who believe in signs. I even have friends who do not believe in the same things that I do. I still choose to believe in signs, though.

Coincidentally, I stumbled upon the blog of a Reiki master from the US – The Raven’s View who shares the same sentiments with me. To quote her:

There is no doubt in my mind that our souls live on, and stay around for some time to comfort us. They come to us in signs, symbols and synchronicities. Often they come through our animal spirits such as the Butterfly, Mourning Dove and more. So if you lose someone you love, human or animal, pay attention to the signs around you. They will stay close for a while to ensure that you don’t mourn too much. I find it very comforting.

I find her words very comforting. Very reassuring. I look for you everywhere, love,  especially in the clouds and in flowers. But recently it’s dragonflies that I keep seeing.

I remember when I was a child, when my maternal grandfather died, my cousins and I saw a little brown moth by the window. From then on, I’ve always believed that butterflies are bringers of messages. And then last Thursday, I saw a yellow dragonfly instead of a butterfly. This is the second time I’ve been greeted by this winged creature. I said Hello to it and I swear I saw it moved its head a bit towards my direction before flying away. I guess it was you telling me you’re just here with me and that I need to be strong. The next day, I learned that my paternal grandfather had finally passed on at 94.

Indeed, I became your Lolo and Lola’s stronghold. I was the one trying to comfort and console them. But I believe that you are the one filling me with the strength and love that I have to give away to others who need it. I thank you for the strength you are giving me anak. You are so giving. You are very wonderful.

I love you Himaya. Thank you for the dragonflies.

Dear Himaya,

I am writing here on the van on our way home to Davao. Papa and I went to Surigao together with some acquaintance. The trip was organized by the wife of his colleague. I was supposed to write when we get home but I was bored because we’ve been on the road for almost 7 hours now (it’s almost 5:00 in the afternoon) and I’ve been wanting to write about our experience yesterday.

On our way to Surigao last Saturday night, I noticed that the roads kept on twisting and turning. There were so many blind curves and unexpected turns. It was also very foggy (this I learned from Papa later on because I fell asleep in the middle of the trip). It feels pretty much like our lives what with all the sharp turns we’ve been going through. Your father almost lost me when we gave birth to you and then 3 months later, we lost you.

I guess the trip was meant for us to take. As if the twists and turns were meant for us to taste again. And I have learned that the sharp turns were only sharp at the beginning but that you learn to sway along with every turn that comes next.

We have a 2-year-old child travelling with us. I find him really, really cute love. He makes me miss you but I’m glad that it doesn’t feel sad. I just miss you. And it was funny because yesterday afternoon he thought I was his mom and called me Mama and raised his arms waiting for me to carry him until he realized I wasn’t his mother. I guess I will always miss that kind of feeling anak, of my own son or daughter calling me Mama and waiting for me to carry them. But I will also always be grateful to you for the memory of how beautiful it feels to be able to hold you in my arms. Thank you always for choosing to spend some time in my arms and for choosing me and Papa to love you the best way we know how.

The love I share with Papa made me understand e.e. cummings when he described how one can carry someone in his heart. The love I share with you made me understand it more deeply. I carry you always with me. I carry you always in my heart. And I have decided to do the things that you would have done or I would have let you enjoy had you gotten old enough here on Earth.

I knew you would have loved our trip the way I did. I knew you were there with us. How can you not be when I find you in all things bright and beautiful; in things that make me praise God and Mother Nature.

I remember you most especially in Sohoton Cove – in its pristine waters that isn’t allowed for swimming but so clear that you can see the beautiful corals that seem so within reach though they’re really down deep; in the cleft of the mountain they call the Horse Tail that serves as a marker for the guides to find their way back; in the mystical rock wall that sounds like a ringing bell or a choir singing to a piano’s accompaniment whenever it’s the Holy Week; in the courage one has to take to climb the sharp and steep rocks of Magkukuob Cave; in the cathedral of the Holy Family and the Saints that one can see when you get to the top. However others would look at the rocks, they sure made me feel like I have visited a sacred and quiet place. I had to pause in reverence and I kept whispering “So beautiful Mother Earth. So beautiful Himaya.” Papa had to call me twice and remind me to hold onto the rocks carefully and watch my step as he went ahead of me. Finally I remembered you when I reached the end of the cave and the only way to get out is to jump off the cliff and hit the waters. It taught me a different level of letting go and trusting. It felt very liberating.

You are all of that for me, my love. You are my clarity, my marker, my singing angel, my cathedral. You continue to teach me about trust, courage, liberation, reverence, beauty, and sanctity. I know that wherever I go I know that I will find you like when I looked up the sky at dawn and saw the moon smiling back at me when Papa and I sat by the shore early this morning.

We were talking about the cliff/rock/mountain beside the resort we were staying in. We revelled at how the community of trees was so alive and lush. He asked me “Who do you think planted them there?” to which I wasn’t sure what to say. I was amazed when he said “Nature.” Nature indeed. In which the elements, seasons, animals, and the ways of the universe participate in their creation. He suddenly muttered “But I guess when it’s your time, it is your time” and pointed at a dead tree among the living trees. And as with everything, we remember you. Like the dead tree among the living ones making the entire picture beautiful and complete, you are with us always.

Thank you for the rainbow peeping through the clouds that I saw when I suddenly looked at the sky to pause from writing. I would like to believe it was intended for me because I was the first and the only one who noticed it. Thank you Himaya. May you always remember that I love you.

Dear Himaya,

It’s raining a lot down here on Earth these days, love. Papa and I agree that you would have loved this cold weather. Anyway, your place up there would still be way, way better than any weather or season down here. I’m sure you’re happier there. Don’t worry. We’ll manage down here.

I miss singing to you early in the morning. I honestly find it hard to sing the songs I used to sing to you. I can’t yet. Maybe someday. I hope one day someday I will find the heart again to sing them when it won’t hurt that much anymore. Someday when I miss you without hurting any longer.

There weren’t pretty clouds to take pictures of today, love. But I still like taking walks because it’s cold. I like talking to you. I like taking these walks with you.

Instead of pretty clouds, I saw a rare dragonfly today. I almost stepped on it! Good thing I was walking really slow. I paused to look at it and wondered if it was dead because it didn’t move at all – the thin, yellow wings were spread wide but weren’t flapping, the yellow orange body was steady and straight. It was as if the dragonfly was perched on the pavement. I wanted to give it a nudge with my big toe to see if it would fly but as with the rules of nature – leave whatever you see wherever you see it – I stopped myself from touching it and possibly rousing it from its slumber if it was resting.

Did you send it to me, love? To say hi? I always remember you when I see something yellow, or flowers especially tiny ones, and pretty things like clouds or another baby’s thoughtful, round eyes.

Dear Himaya,

This kind of feels like Dear Diary. The only difference is that I am not writing as a teenager. I am writing as a 30-year-old mother who can only wish that her daughter will be able to read these letters in her teens. But you’re past teenage years now Himaya. You went straight to heaven and excused yourself from all the trivialities of being human. You’re free from childhood illnesses, from unrequited love or heartaches of a teenage girl, from diseases of truth in adulthood. I am honestly just rambling. So forgive this first step to writing to you again.

You see, I started writing monthly letters for you last April. I didn’t know then that the first letter will be the only letter I’d ever finish writing for you. The second letter never got to see the finish line. Because that’s when Death came to fetch you. Time to go back to heaven dearie, she said. Time to report back to headquarters and write the results of your research on Earth.

Life and death have suddenly played a different music while you and I were still dancing to a lullaby. I suddenly found myself having to dance alone to a different tune without you in my arms anymore. But I know that I have to keep on dancing, my love. And so I shall keep on dancing, I promise you that, no matter how sharp these turn of events are or will be.

I learned from college to write and recollect in tranquility but I listened to your Tita E when she told me to write while the moments are still raw and fresh. I guess recollection in tranquility shall become edit and revise in tranquility, no?

I told your Tita E that I’m afraid to write again because it will require me to think and remember and I know for sure that if I do I would cry. There’s a sense of aloneness in writing and thinking and I told her I still don’t have enough courage to be alone. But I don’t know what happened today – I suddenly woke up finding the courage to write.

It’s Papa’s morning shift at work again this week which means I get to take morning walks with you again. Before leaving the house, while Papa was oiling Mochi, I folded the raincoats we used last night. While I was at it, I said aloud “Good morning Himaya! Good morning baby!” Papa and I looked at each other and smiled and then I told him “I guess we’re working on the best long distance relationship ever. Well..next to Lolo Horst and Lola Gisellè’s I guess.”

I think this is how I start moving forward anak. Working on a beautiful long distance relationship with you.

I love you, Himaya!