Home Opinion Columns My Sister-in-law, Salud aka Wendy and her Peter Pan

My Sister-in-law, Salud aka Wendy and her Peter Pan


(Columnist’s Note: I relegate my column this issue to my sister-in-law, Salud, in memory of my brother, Ces, who had his first stroke in April 1, 2015  and succumb to his final stroke in September 2018.)

Part 1:

I didn’t know I married Peter Pan when I did. He would always tell me I was his Wendy. Now that Peter Pan’s gone, but not his thoughts, Wendy is sharing some of it here.

Part 2:

It has been a very fruitful journey for me ever since I forced myself to hop in a bus going down MM last February 23. It was to be the most difficult and most poignant bus ride I ever had, and I dared cross the ledge dividing my former state towards making a brand-new start for myself. Alone.

That decision of mine brought me to places and faces that helped me build new stones to anchor me slowly into making new memories for myself and my girls. I heard me laugh again, just like the way I did before. New friendships replacing old wounds, endless funny banters slowly replacing hidden sobbing bouts inside the car, or at any nearest bathrooms as it comes.

Tonight, is my last night for this brave portion of my life. I am to receive my reward for merely deciding to join life pulsation once again. Hopefully, out of this moment, a joyful existence shall come out of it. I will make sure of that.

As what the soundtrack of a movie always say:

Life is a road and I want to take it.
Life is a river and I want to flow with it.
Nice to come home bringing a smile on my face that is here to stay, as long as I own it.
I will see sunshine tomorrow in Baguio City.

Part 3:

In the next 48 hours countdown, I should be on my way to scale the heights of Mt. Pulag.

I always thought of myself as a deep-sea kind of girl, never any near of a trek type. I love the fluidity of cutting through the waters instead of scaling the rough terrains. I had successfully shut down all opportunity in the past to make me do any rough roads leading to any summit, never mind knowing how breathtaking the sight would be from the top.

But as of late, life decided to make a U-turn for me as far as my circumstance is concerned. It gave me a very beautiful reason to consider climbing up to a summit and say my hello to the rising sun. And maybe, in the company of a hot brewed, good coffee —minus the nicotine rush.

The past three weeks that I was away from home has provided me a window to really think through things objectively, melting away a big chunk of cowardice I nurtured in the farthest corners of my heart.

It taught me a lot in the art of letting go, of some wisdom in freeing one’s self from the inevitable chains brought by loving too much, too easily, too soon. That by freeing ourselves, we allow freedom to happen for others.

As I write my thoughts now, I throw glimpses at the little brown box that sat quietly on my bedside table for almost half a year now. Inside it is the remains of my sweet beloved. It provided me a room, while it is within my arm’s reach, to breathe while I was on my darkest months, just staring at it.

The moment has come for me to have the courage to free it from the clutches of my own grief. Just enough courage I need to finally put it to its final rest.

For this, I shall take the rough roads leading me to a summit known for its holy ground. So, it can rest there. Finally.

So, I can rest my heart as well. All for this, in the name of a great Love that saw me through it all.

Part 4:

Coming home from almost all of the journeys I have to do in my life, it is always that someone in the crowd wearing a face filled with anticipation, breaking into that of a morning sunshine when it catches my eyes — that takes all of my tiredness away and makes me feel that I have come home, finally.

That face is yours, Cesar Liporada. # nordis.net

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