I had the Saturday morning “curse” again. I woke up around the time my husband passed on and cannot go back to sleep. Unwelcome images inside the ICU began to enter my mind.
On impulse, I got up, wore my jogging shoes and walked all the way to the columbarium, which is around 5 kilometers or more from our house. I just walked, I cannot jog yet because of my recurring asthma attacks.
Apparently, the route to the columbarium is also a jogging trail for many people. Families and lovers and friends jogged past me as I walked.
When I arrived at the chapel compound, there were more people exercising. Some were walking their dogs.
I entered the chapel first and prayed for more strength and healing for me and the family and for the family of my boss’ wife. She died last Sunday morning due to aneurysm.
The restaurants were full. As the columbarium is not yet open, I had breakfast first. For a few seconds, I was reminded of the two mornings I forced myself to swallow the Jollibee breakfast meals while the husband was in the ICU fighting for his life. I had to eat then, I needed to be strong for him. The food tasted like paper but I ate them anyway.
This morning, I did the same. I did not have a decent dinner last night, so I had to eat proper breakfast. Then it was time to visit my husband.
I miss talking to him. I told him about everything that has been keeping me busy since he has been gone. Obviously, I cried my heart out again.
I miss seeing and touching his face. I miss seeing him smile, hearing his laughter, watching him eat.
I miss holding his hands, him holding my hands.
I miss taking care of him, him taking care of me.
I just miss everything about him, even his annoying habits and sometimes lousy humor, although he is so funny most of the time.
I miss laughing with and at him. I miss making him laugh.
It was such a fun relationship and marriage.
I left afterwards and walked towards the parking area of shuttle vans. There is a shuttle service to and from the chapel/columbarium, the vans use solar power to run.
I bought buko (young coconuts), my favorite snack of all time, from a street vendor before I rode the shuttle van. The shuttle stops at the mall gate near our home.
It felt good to walk and sweat a bit. It felt good to visit my husband. It felt good to pray.
Congrats, self. Considering the circumstances, you are doing well.
I am not happy just yet, I’m still so lonely and hurting, but I felt good. I might just have discovered a way to spend the Saturday mornings to come.
Someday, I might even join that free Zumba class inside the chapel compound.