These days, I hear a
lot about how fear coexists with love.
In the lyrics of a
song, “Fear is the heart of love….”
In the line of a
manga, “Now, I know what love is. It is the fear of losing that someone who is
important to you.”
I am not sure if love
and fear can be present at the same time in the same person’s heart without one
killing the other. But that certain line in the manga I was reading really had
an effect me. It is somehow true.
Come to think of it,
it is true. The fear of losing someone is love. If we can do anything to
prevent losing the ones we love, we will do it. It’s like sending a friend or a
relative to the hospital when they are sick. We don’t want them to die when it
is still possible for them to live. Even when they have already given up, we
still fight and continue to tell them to not succumb to their sickness. Love is
hoping that they’ll eventually get better. And we hope because we fear to lose
them.
I’ve had a hole in my
heart ever since my grandfather died. It wasn’t the first time someone died in
our family but it was the first time someone really close to me passed away. My
grandparents live just one block from our house. He had been there for me since
I was born, my grandfather, I mean. He was present in almost every day of my
existence. He almost killed a drunkard who was behaving so badly on the night I
was about to be born. He would stay right outside our house every time I had my
guy pals over. He congratulated me in every victory. Bragged about my
intelligence to all his mates. Gave me money when I needed or even when I did
not. He was still as strong as a carabao and as fit as a horse even in his
60’s.
On May 2006, they had
to go to my grandmother’s province. They go there every year for the fiesta. I
used to go with them all the time when I was young. My grandma is a good cook
and our family there is, well, let’s just say, kinda well-known. My granny does
not really like planes so they usually travel by bus and by ferry once they
reach Virac. I did not know why, but the night of the day they left, I felt something strange. The next morning, we were awoken by a
loud knock on the door. It was very early. My dad went outside and he talked to
my uncle. My aunt who lived next door followed him. I waited for him to return
to our house and then I asked him what’s going on. Apparently, my grandpa had
died when they were in Naga. Maybe I was too shocked to cry so my first
reaction was to stare into space and ask myself if I heard him right. Me, my
dad and my aunt are the only ones awake in the neighborhood. It did not help
that they go back and forth to my grandparents’ house. Tears were stuck in my
eyelids. I sat by our door and rationalized. I was convincing myself that my
dad only said that lolo is sick. And then I got confused because my lola is the
one with an unhealthy heart. I cried, uncertain of
whose death I was crying about but sure that I was crying because of lost
opportunity. I could not remember the last time I told my grandparents I love
them before that incident. Come to think of it, I did not hug any of them when
they left. I thought I would cry if I see them go. I did not know that I had to
cry more because I did not see them go. My youngest brother was with them at
that time. He was only 3 years old by then.
After that, I made a
promise to myself. I will never again lose a chance to tell my loved ones that
I love them just because of embarrassment. And I told myself that I have to be
more affectionate too. I was able to keep that promise. At least to my
relatives and friends.
——————————————————-
Maybe fear is the
heart of love. The fear to wake up one day and realize that you’ve let go of a
special person. The fear to know that you have lost an opportunity to tell him
you like him or that he is important to you. It’s the fear that one day, you’ll
see that you are not the one who can make him happy.
I woke up one day and
I realized that what I feared had happened. It was my fault. I pointed all my
fingers at myself. I’m the one to blame.
The end.
(This is a recycled entry from my previous blog.)
Photo above not mine; got it from this site.
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