quietly grieving...

i will definitely miss looking for your updates, Baby Bien...

....

i've been closely stalking following the fb page you created for your baby. when i first hit the "like" button, my only intention was to join in on the prayer (you said in your page description, that every person's 'like' button clicked is an equivalent to that person's prayers sent.

so i 'liked' it.

i thought maybe you'll notice that i 'liked' his page, or maybe you won't. but if you did, at least you'll know that i'm praying with you. i admit that i may have had other less sympathetic initial reaction when i first heard about your ordeal... but believe me when i say that when i saw the picture of your little angel, my heart melted. maybe not totally for you, but for your baby. after all, i'm a parent,too.

when i first 'liked' his page, i thought that would be the one and only time i will visit that page. i had no idea i'd be coming back to it every day. i had no idea how much i would care.

from the moment that i first visited his page, there wasn't a day that went by that i would not visit it to look for updates, to hope to read any good news of his health. in all those times, in all those days that i visited his page, there were only two occasions when i finally gathered enough guts to ask you how he's doing, if there's any news of improvement on his condition. and in those couple of times, i wanted to ask you so many questions. but i didn't feel like i have a right. i felt that the fact that we know each other personally does not give me the privilege to ask you questions, to ask for details you may not choose to share.
or have not yet shared in public.

plus it felt awkward, and unwelcome, to ask.

yesterday i read your update on the result of his DNA tests. actually, i read it last friday on your twitter status. you didn't say it was your angel's condition. i just knew it was. but i never had the time to look it up right away. this morning i checked his page again to read the latest. and from there i looked up the internet to read about his condition. and my heart broke.

i thought about you. i thought about your wife. i thought about how you two might be feeling when you read the results. i thought about reaching out to you. i saw you online. i wanted to buzz you and ask you how you are. i wanted to ask you how your little angel is. i wanted to ask you if the US doctors ever gave you any encouragement, any positive words to hold on to. i read about how very, very, rarely that children affected by this condition survive past a day. your angel has made it through for a month now. i wanted to ask you if the US hospital offered you any help, any support, in exchange for an opportunity to study your angel's condition, on a living patient. this is a rare occurrence! surely they would be interested in helping your little angel to survive! they've got to be! but all my questions didn't just feel unwelcome. they felt intrusive, even to me.

then i read those articles again from the internet. oh, how much i felt for your family! and how much i admire your wife's courage.

i can only hope and pray for more courage for you in these very difficult times. i wish i could tell you, somehow let you know how much this news grieves me, too.

but i can only silently weep for you. :(

Chichi's Dance Class

this is a part of a dance choreography that chichi is learning from her dance class. 

hello, stranger...

there was a time in our lives when we could talk about almost everything and anything under the sun, moon and stars. or we could just sit together for hours without talking, just enjoying each other's company.

there was a time in our lives when we could finish each other's sentences. or sometimes we didn't even have to... we already understood what each wanted to say.

was it really that long ago? maybe it was.

don't you find it odd, that whereas before, we never used to run out of things to say to each other.. now we have nothing to say? that now, whenever i see you... we don't even say hi, and just to ask you how you're doing feels strangely inappropriate. and so sadly unwelcome.

it feels really odd.... because you were almost like my diary in those years. like a notebook that i wrote the story of my life on. and i always felt i was the same to you. i used to know you a lot. i used to know the story of your life, too.

i still do.

i wonder where you put mine? i wish you'd kept it, like i kept yours. but i can imagine you simply threw those pages away. and left only fresh ones for someone else to write the story of their lives on.

so that now, when i want to look for my story on your pages... i'll never find any traces of me in you.

funny how there was a time when you were the most important person in my life. but now you're just like a stranger.

that's why there's nothing to say.

at all.