Goodbye B-chan

Brownie, whom I call B-chan or B-kun or Matwa (meaning 'old' in Kapampangan, coz he was around 7+ human years) or Epi (since he used to suffer from seizures) because I disliked how unoriginal our previous housemaid named him (mom was thinking of a name for him, I was away staying in QC still, and she kept calling him Brownie so he got used to that name and it stuck), died today.

We came back from delivering and arranging flowers (for the Mother of Perpetual Help novena fiesta tomorrow) at our parish church and found him lying down on the floor of his kennel already dead.

I don't know how I should feel about my mom's decision to have him buried in our garden. In a way, it feels right; definitely better than having Kuya Noel haul off his body in a sack and throw him at some garbage dump or the like... but then, I guess I'll never look at our garden the same way ever again. Well at least he'll have a lot of flowers -_-;

I stayed and watched Kuya Noel dig up the grave and bury B-kun. Part of me kept on expecting him to stand up and turn up his nose at us like he often used to. That dog was damned proud despite his being a short and stout bowlegged mongrel. He just had that kind of air about him that was reminiscent of nobility. I often used to try talking to him and he'd just give me this haughty look, sniff, then walk away -_-; He had that kind of attitude, but was always given away by how happy he felt about seeing me by his tail.

He was deathly afraid of fireworks. He used to enter the kitchen, opening the door by himself, hiding under the work tables during New Year's Eve, and not even the sight of his favorite foods could entice him to come out from under those tables. You couldn't even pry him off his place with a crowbar. He was just that terrified. I used to sit nearby and watch him jump every time a firework exploded near the house.

So now he's gone. Wow. Just like that.

While watching his burial I kept stopping myself from crying. I wanted to cry, but I just kept looking and remembering; regretting that I didn't spend more time with him. Maybe that's what stopped me from crying: guilt. I, as a nurse, should have seen that something was wrong with him and said and done something about it. Too late now.

Ah, my first post after so long and in the new year too. What to say? Been busy. Didn't have time and the inclination to blog. I do now, so here goes.

Had a weird dream last night. Well, more like disturbing than weird. Was riding something that resembled the inside of a jeepney, but it was air conditioned and had a kinda plush interior. With me were my relatives from my mother's side - Tito Toto, Tita Pes, Camille, Tita Betty, Kuya Jojo - and my mom. My mom and I were sitting on one side and the others were all on the opposite side facing us. They were a tight fit coz Tita Betty and Kuya Jojo took up a lot of space. Mom was scolding me, telling me to sit straight and move so that the others can transfer to our side so they won't be so cramped but I told her I couldn't coz I was already sitting beside Paul and Peter. Paul was sitting to my left, Peter was to his left near the driver, while mom sat on my right. I even remember turning to Paul and checking the mole on his upper lip to check which of the twins he was.

Mom and the rest all looked at me strangely then, like I was out of my mind. Then I remembered that Peter and Paul were already dead (they died end of November 2006). I looked back at Paul and he just smiled his usual smile and brought up his hand to his mouth to hide his mole, the way both twin usually did when I still couldn't distinguish which of them was which. I turned back to my mom and relatives and they were just whispering with each other ignoring me now. I turned back to Paul and realized I was the only who could see him. I woke up for a bit then fell asleep immediately again.

I guess in the interval, while the real me was awake Paul spoke to the dream me. He told me he and Peter were there to fetch me and I realized I was going to die soon. He didn't tell me how I was going to die or exactly when, but I believed him. I was sad that I had to die soon as he said, but I felt strangely at peace with it. I said goodbye to my mom and I woke up while she was crying. And seeing her cry made me cry in my sleep too coz I woke up with tears running down my cheeks.

I wasn't disturbed by the dream because I was scared I was gonna die soon, more like I didn't want to see my mom crying. I bolted out of the bed and checked her room to see if she was alright but mom had already gone out for her everyday mass where she goes directly to school to teach afterwards. And somehow, since I didn't get to see her before she went, I was a nervous wreck while going through my morning ablutions. I was still sobbing while having breakfast in my room, and I just couldn't stop. I wanted to see that my mom was alright. I kept remembering how our neighbors, the Macapagal's mother died of a heart attack while on the way back from mass. My nervousness didn't stop until I heard Tito Toto's car come back from the daily mass. I figured, if anything happened to my mom Tito wouldn't be so calm when he turned up downstairs and asked what was for breakfast.

I guess it's silly of me, getting so worked up after such a dream; but then when I remember that mom and dad are now nearly 60 years old, I worry that my time with them both is now so short. They're both healthy, needing no daily maintenance medications like others their age do, but I'm constantly worried that today might be the last day I can be with either of them. And it doesn't help that they now both constantly talk about retiring. It scares me that I'm running out of time.