In my nostalgic mood, I found some long-hidden juvenile attempts at poetry during my angst-filled college days. So innocent, right? A disclaimer, not everything happened in real life. Peksman.
All Gone
I’m back, but what happened?
Are my eyes deceiving me now?
Is my heart telling me something I did not want to know?
The smiles, the laughter, the peace, the contentment.
All gone.
Now, there are doubts, insecurities, and conflicts.
I searched for things familiar and joyful.
All gone.
Our worlds are different now.
On the Beach
The blue water lapped on the shore
The tide brings home a school of bubbles
If only I could capture the white foams inside a bottle
For me to watch over and over again.
If only I could hold the breeze from the sea
To remind me that I am whole again
Even though you are no longer here.
Three people
Two loving one. One loving two.
Three very lonely people.
If I Should Love
Again
If I find someone new
He will not be like you.
If my heart opens up again
It will not be for someone like you.
Too Late
I’m not sorry that I loved you.
I just wish the knowledge of it did not come too late.
I cannot take back the pains I have given you.
Now that I found out I love you
You’re no longer around to know that I do.
Photographs
From among faded photographs…
I picked yours out and felt the need to cry.
Following My Dreams
It’s been good while it lasted.
Exhilarating, exciting, electrifying.
Until we have to part ways;
Now, I have to follow my dreams far away from you
And now it is melancholic and heartbreaking.
What will the future bring?
I am Woman
I am strong; I am a daughter raised on resilience and faith
I grew up with laughter and with a grateful heart
I am blessed. I am strong. I am Woman.
So, move along.
I do not need you.
I am over you.
Sorry
I never meant to hurt you
when all you’ve done is think of countless ways to make me feel special.
I have been so callous, so heartless in my desire to avoid loving you.
I was just 23 years old, still wet behind my years, new to
the US, and simply put, innocent to the ways of the world.
Dr. L was a blue-eyed blond doctor who moon-lighted every other
weekend in my hospital. With his Nordic good looks, he probably had a
girlfriend in every hospital he worked at, but he was the first ever
non-Filipino male who caught my attention. My other friends said that he was a
snob with a God complex, but for some reason, he was always nice to me.
One day, I was waiting for my turn at the cafeteria and
pointed out the french fries to the cafeteria worker. From behind me, Dr. L
chuckled and said, “I like french fries, too”. Who’d think that such a simple
sentence would make me stammer and render me blubbering like a fool?
My heart fluttered. I was not good at small talk. I did not
know how to flirt. My friends later told me that my face was flushed. I did not
know at that time that some of my friends witnessed the tableau from their
table.
Then, as bad timing as it can get, Dr. L’s pager beeped. A
code arrest in one of the skilled nursing units. Romance (and lunch)
interrupted. He looked at the soda can that I was holding, and with a sheepish
smile of apology took it from me, sipped from it, returned the soda can, and
said, “Thank you.”
Woah! What else can I do but give the soda can back to him
and say “Take it”. He winked at me as he ran towards the code.
I don’t know how I should have handled it like a more
sophisticated woman would do, but his gesture was a sensual and intimate action
that I was too naive and uncomfortable to respond to. I thought, “Dalagang
pilipina ako!”, a typical conservative Filipina.
Truth be told, a tiny wild part of me swooned. But, in all my innocence and probably due to
my unfamiliarity with modern courtship, I convinced myself the blatant flirting
was disrespectful.
I gave him the cold shoulder the next time we met in the ICU
where I worked. In my mind, he was a gigolo. When he invited me to dinner, I
told him a lie, “I have a boyfriend back home. I'm engaged.”
2010
In my interview for a nursing director position in a New York hospital, the Chief
Nursing Officer wanted me to do a Meet-and-Greet with the Chief Medical
Officer, but he was out at an educational conference at that time. I was surprised
to hear that the CMO was "my" Dr. L.
The internet search yielded a recent picture of Dr. L. He still sports the same
round-rimmed glasses, older but still has a boyish charm that had captivated me
all those years ago. I was sure that he now had a family of HIS own. I was now
happily divorced myself.
On my first day at my new job, I was sitting by myself in
the cafeteria, when somebody joined me at my table. There he was, Dr. L, with
his soda can, "We meet again."
Surprised, I stammered, "You remember me after all these years?"
He grinned at me. “Of course, you broke my heart."
My eyebrow raised. This time, I am now mature and sophisticated, no longer that innocent girl who blubbered like a fool.
He said, "I read your resume and knew it was you. I
see that you still like French fries.” His ringless hand gestured at my plate.
Dr. L sat down and smiled his most engaging smile, and I was lost.
THE END
Nina- If I Should Love Again
Clay Walker - I'd Love To Be Your Last
(Author's note: Year 1983 happened. Year 2010 is just a dream.)
(Author’s note: I heard a cute nurse-paramedic love story on Delilah’s syndicated radio show on my way home. So, here’s what I “imagined” the story to be. I wrote this in less than 2 hours, lol.)
“It’s not gonna hurt”, that’s what the nurse told me when I came to the ER after an
injury on the job. You see, I was a paramedic, and I had a massive crush on the
nurse Liza.
I
don’t know how it happened, but Liza started to matchmake me with her friend
Rose. Probably because Rose was also Irish like me. Probably because Liza
thought I was too tall for her. She called me “Giant Finn”. She was 5’2” to my 6’, but she could handle the
rowdy patients just with her look.
I fell for her as soon as I saw this cute Filipina nurse finagled her way to
squeeze her diminutive self among the burly security officers to jab a quick
sedative on the arm of an agitated patient. And then, she proceeded to organize
the officers to hold the patient while she masterfully restrained the patient
to the stretcher.
She was a marvel to watch; a Wonder Woman in a sea of patients clamoring for attention. She was kind, compassionate but tough-as-nails when needed.
As
paramedics assigned to this Level 1 trauma hospital, our crew quickly developed
a great camaraderie with the ER staff. We worked together on gunshot wounds,
stab wounds, accident patients, heart attacks, seizures, and the
often-rambunctious intoxicated patients.
The single males in our crew had our
favorite nurses. Liza was well-liked by all, but soon, my comrades noticed that
I was sweet on Liza.
Liza’s
pixie face, pert nose, jet-black hair, those dark-brown almond eyes that were always
smiling. She captivated me.
For
whatever reason, Liza thought I liked her friend Rose. Whenever they were in
Triage, she would send my ambulance crew to Rose. It was starting to be awkward since I suspected that Rose liked my partner instead.
But I held off from pursuing Liza, mainly because I was tongue-tied in front of her. This giant Finn was intimidated by this tiny dynamo.
Until
the day I came in as a patient.
When
the EMS dispatcher sent my paramedic crew to assist a BLS team with an agitated
patient, we grappled with the emotionally-disturbed man who was brandishing a
baseball bat. I was able to grab the bat away from the patient but pulled my
shoulder in the process. Due to the adrenaline rush, I didn’t even feel the
pain until somebody bumped into me. I almost fainted from the pain.
Liza
was the trauma nurse that day. Her eyes showed concern when she saw my shoulder
deformed and how I was groaning in pain. She immediately called the ED
attending to order pain medication STAT. Dr. Lim said, “Finn needs his left
shoulder reduced. Let’s prepare him for moderate sedation.”
My
arm was in a sling. But the throbbing pain was almost too hard to endure. Liza
tried to distract me with her witty banter. She teased me. “Now you know that
you cannot just wrestle with your patients like that. Who do you think you are?
Hulk Hogan?”
When
Liza saw my right arm with the bulging veins, her eyes went round with delight.
“Yes, I love bulging veins, especially as all my other patients earlier were
difficult sticks.”
“It’s
not gonna hurt,” Liza promised before she inserted an 18-gauge needle into my
antecubital. But I screamed in pain. She had smooth hands, but I was afraid of
needles (even though I love inserting IVs, go figure). I jerked my injured shoulder in anticipation of the pain from the IV angiocath piercing my skin.
Liza
stayed with me during the shoulder reduction. After giving the analgesic and
the sedation medications, she held my hand with her left hand while writing
on the moderate sedation sheet with her right.
I
did not remember much during the procedure, but I felt groggy after. I later
learned that the doctor had to administer Narcan to reverse the sedation
because it took too long for me to come out of my narcotic high.
The
x-ray confirmed that my left shoulder went back to its socket. But the ED attending
and the resident who assisted with the procedure both gave me teasing looks
before they departed the room, with me still holding onto Liza’s hand.
Just before Dr. Lim left the room, he jokingly told Liza, "Don't forget the foley catheter". I am sure I turned red as a lobster, but Liza was furious and embarrassed, which of course resulted in more chuckles from the departing doctors.
Liza
turned to me and, with a confused look on her face, asked me, “Finn, you just
blurted out when you were coming out from sedation that you like me. Is it
true?”
I
grinned sheepishly, “Liza, it was always you.”
And
that was ten years ago. “So, Delilah, can you please play a song for us for our nine-year wedding anniversary?"
Part 1- THE SOLDIER, THE NURSE, AND THE SKYLINE PIGEON
November 2011
He had only one eye. And he was my real big crush as a 19-year-old student nurse in a military hospital in the Philippines.
It was our group’s clinical orientation at the Plastic Surgery ward. The patients in that unit usually stayed longer than those in the acute surgical units as they awaited reconstructive surgeries and rehabilitation treatments.
The horrors of war with the insurgents in the Southern Philippines rendered the soldiers with varying degrees of disfigurements, limbs lost, and faces marked with the weapons of war. They had barely survived their physical injuries but their emotional scars ran deeper. Most of the soldiers were mostly the young recruits who had been ill-prepared in battle warfare. Their lives were forever changed.
The clinical instructor warned us that the patients were eagerly anticipating the new batch of student nurses that were assigned to the unit, each one of them ready to move on to their new crushes. In other words, the new group of nurses was “fresh meat” who brought much-needed excitement and distraction to the soldiers from their otherwise boring and mundane existence.
Our tasks included dressing changes and wound and stump care. Our most important mission: is to provide cheer and hope in a unit full of men depressed by inactivity and uncertainty. The student nurses were the “happy pills.” We were the bright points during the patients’ stay in the hospital.
Mr. Bernabe cautioned us against being too friendly with the patients and that we should accept their fawning praises with a grain of salt. Any nurse caught accepting the advances of the soldiers would be suspended. And so, on our first day at the unit, we armed ourselves with our professional smiles and our firm but polite “Sorry, I can’t go out with you. I have a boyfriend already.”
My first assignment in the Treatment Room started auspiciously as the grouchy regular nurse whined about the endless tasks that she had to do. Mr. Bernabe placated Lt. Morales by assuring her that “Miss Cerrudo will take over the dressings today. So don’t worry. I will be supervising her.”
Not surprisingly, my first three patients all tried to pepper me with personal questions about my “boyfriend”. Just as I was ready to call for the next patient, I heard someone ask my instructor who was at the door to get the regular nurse instead. He was a little sullen and did not want a student nurse tending to his eye. I felt my ears getting red as he questioned my instructor about my skills. Bless his heart, Mr. Bernabe vouched for my academic knowledge and technical prowess.
At that moment, our instructor was summoned by another nurse to another treatment area. Despite my earlier resolve, I was fuming mad and intended to give the rude patient a piece of my mind about his pissy attitude. I was tired and did not appreciate how ungrateful that yet-unknown patient was.
I remember feeling a jolt of awareness when the patient came into the treatment room. He appeared awkward and uncomfortable. As I stood there in silence, he softly muttered, “I’m sorry.”
Psychology 101 made me realize that his gruffness was because of his sense of vulnerability. It must have been difficult for the man to be looked at, not with interest but with something akin to pity. Suddenly, I felt ashamed for not understanding so I nodded my acceptance of his apology and gave him a welcoming smile.
“Sammy” was a soldier whose left eye was enucleated from an injury on the battlefield in Cotabato. My assignment was to change the dressings on his empty left eye socket.
As we locked eyes, a shy smile broke into his dark, handsome face. His beautiful brown right eye was fringed with the longest lashes I’ve seen on a man. His strong jaw, aquiline nose, and full lips gave him a rakish but totally masculine look.
He sat dutifully on the chair as I stood over him and gingerly unwrapped the dressing over his left eye. A look of pain and embarrassment crossed Sammy’s face as he sat exposed with his hollow left eye socket.
As I ministered to him, he observed me closely, searching my face for any sign of revulsion. But all I felt was a deep respect for the soldier and the man. Like all the other soldiers in the unit, Sammy had sacrificed his future in service of country.
A warm feeling suffused me as I watched him watching me. My cheeks felt warm and my heart palpitated. I was perplexed that I felt both relief and sadness when I finished the job. Sammy thanked me quietly. We both smiled at each other.
As we settled into the unit's routine, our instructor allowed the nurses to engage the patients in free-wheeling but good-natured group discussions. The unit seemed more alive. Because the patients were forewarned that they would lose privileges if they disrespected the nurses, they were all on their best behavior.
My interactions with Sammy were limited to the dressing changes and the vital signs-taking. We were aware of each other. It was an exhilarating feeling for a 19-year-old girl. Distracted by his proximity, I almost shot the mercury from the sphygmomanometer.
He always managed to stay back in line for the daily dressing changes. As my last patient, he was able to linger a few more minutes in the treatment room and he began to open up about his wait for his prosthetic eye. As with all the other soldiers, he was not bitter about his injuries, and he was still committed to serving in the military. Sammy confided his dream of finishing his engineering studies. He also ensured that I looked at his good side during our conversations.
In one of the treatment sessions, Sammy caught me humming the song “Skyline Pigeon” by Elton John. We shared a laugh as he corrected me when I mistakenly called it “Turn Me Loose.” It was a sweet moment. It was also the first time that I felt sad that our time together would soon end.
On the last day of our month-long clinical rotation, the patients gave us a surprise party. For a month, we distracted them from their mundane worries, made them laugh, and gave them hope. We were appreciated for the excitement we brought to the unit.
Sporting a black patch over his left eye, just like a handsome pirate, Sammy brought out his guitar and sang “our song.”
Turn me loose from your hands Let me fly to distant lands Over green fields, trees and mountains Flowers and forest fountains Home along the lanes of the skyway
The song is about a man’s yearning for his freedom; of flying toward his dreams. But I was the one flying away. As a young nurse, I was on the verge of a future in the United States. I wanted more, not only for myself but also for my family. Somehow, Sammy understood.
Sammy’s voice soared earnestly. “Skyline Pigeon” is not a love song but it felt like one to me. I felt a lump in my throat. We’ve never talked about our feelings, but the song told me that he was letting me go. Then he winked at me.
Saying goodbye was difficult. Maybe his friends maneuvered it, but we found ourselves alone in the treatment room. He confessed that he was falling for me, but that he did not want to hold me back. I had told him before that I was planning to go to the States. It was not the right time for any romance.
That was more than 25 years ago. And today is Veterans’ Day. Maybe that’s why I remember him now, the soldier who sang an Elton John song to me.
Coincident or not, actor Sam Milby appeared on my TV screen. The aquiline nose, the strong jaw, the full lips, and the incredibly beautiful eyes fascinated me.
The resemblance to Sammy was so uncanny. I hurriedly paused the videotape I was watching. Crouching in front of the TV, I put my hand over Sam’s left eye, and imagined the soldier Sammy with his eye patch and it felt like I was transported back in time to that military hospital.
I wonder where he is now, Sammy, and his Skyline Pigeon.
Part 2- THE SOLDIER, THE NURSE, "KUMUSTA KA?"
April 2012
"It's more fun in the Philippines," the tourism banner proclaimed. As I walked through the Ninoy Aquino airport, I wondered what my two-week vacation would bring.
I have gone back to the Philippines for short vacations over the years. Of course, vacations always excited me, but this time, I was coming back for several reunions. The grand family reunion, the college and high school reunions. Like going back in time, to recapture old memories with family and friends.
The past was coming back full force with all its memories. We have led separate lives and gone on to different pathways, but we were ready to reminisce our younger years. Frankly, I was apprehensive about who I will be seeing after all these years.
And through my college friend Althea who's now the Chief Nurse in the military hospital where I was once a student, I have also been slated to speak at an Emergency Preparedness symposium. Just a few months ago, I reconnected with Althea through Facebook. The miracle of social media. Reach out and touch someone.
Coming back to the hospital where I first met Sammy, my one-eyed soldier. The one who sang "The Skyline Pigeon" to me when I was a 19-year-old student nurse, twenty-five years ago.
On a cold November day in New York, six months ago, nostalgia crept in as I watched a Sam Milby film on TV. The Filipino actor's uncanny resemblance with Sammy made me catch my breath and I felt my heart flutter, as it did when I took care of Sammy in the Plastic Surgery ward.
Was it because it was Veteran's Day that I started to reminisce about my Sam Milby look-alike soldier?
Sammy's left eye was enucleated from injuries sustained on the battlefield in Southern Philippines. But despite the injury, I felt drawn to this handsome young soldier, his good right eye as beautiful as possible, even made more special because he lost his left eye in service of country.
Although nothing untoward happened during my clinical rotation at the Plastic Surgery unit, there was apparent awareness of each other, an attraction that never had a chance to prosper. I was a nursing student, and he was a patient. Our worlds were not supposed to come together.
Just before my month-long clinical rotation was finished, Sammy confided his feelings for me, but he conceded that I needed to follow my American dream. Much as I was enamored with him, I realized that I had to leave.
Because I wanted to explore the world and because I wanted more for myself and my family, I said goodbye. Just like the skyline pigeon in the song that he sang to me. And so, in a few years’ time after graduation, this skyline pigeon flew away to the distant lands. I have never heard from him again.
And now, I'm back at the same military hospital. It was ironic that Althea worked there now. Two days ago, we sat together at our college reunion and talked about my presentation. I attributed her exuberance to the upcoming event at the hospital that she had organized.
I have been teaching emergency preparedness to my nurses in my hospital in New York. My audience today will be a combined group of nurses and doctors. I will be sharing my knowledge gained from years of disaster management classes and actual experience volunteering as part of the Medical Reserve Corps and a few disaster relief groups in Haiti.
The hospital had a facelift. Now, another impressive building stood on the right side of the big compound. A full-service hospital with 1,000 beds to serve the injured soldiers; it is now a modern, fully-equipped hospital; so different from the quaint hospital I knew 25 years ago.
I smiled at a group of student nurses who passed by me. They looked immaculate in their nurses' uniform and starched apron, white nursing caps, and dazzling white shoes. I heard them chattering about their new assignment and their cute clinical instructor.
I remembered my student days; those carefree days, of new discovery, new experiences, and budding love. With our stiff aprons, blue and white sheer sucker uniforms, and white nurses' caps, we breezed through the years with carefree equanimity and optimism, fully aware that the real life of nursing would be a lot different.
Then, an image of Sammy as he surprised our group with a song at our going-away party brought a sensation of regret for that interrupted romance. He had a beautiful baritone voice, haunting in its earnest sincerity. I guarded the secret of my feelings to this man and only wrote about our story in a blog, many years after the fact.
I met Althea in the hospital lobby. She looked different from the happy-go-lucky student nurse I knew. Tall and slim, she looked authoritative in her military uniform. I forgot she's now a Lieutenant Colonel; all the servicemen bowed in deference as she passed, and they eyed me, a stranger, in my power suit and high heels.
I caught my image in a mirror. Not bad for a 45-year-old, but too old for these servicemen. With my short hair with brown highlights, and my trim body (thanks to the Zumba classes), I looked years younger, modesty aside.
But I didn't come here looking to flirt with anyone; I had been divorced for ten years and the memory of the heartache was enough to turn me wary of romance. My son was still in 2nd year of college, majoring in Biology, my future doctor. He was unable to come for vacation because of school.
Althea and I walked down the long corridor leading to the Administrative Offices when her cell phone rang. She excused herself and moved a few feet away to accept the call. I entertained myself by looking at the massive murals of Philippine landscape that adorned the hospital walls.
"Hi, Jo." I knew the voice, but I didn't turn around right away. I was sure I just imagined it; that I was so caught up in the emotions of my return to the hospital that I would conjure up the voice that had filled my dreams in the past.
He cleared his throat, and I turned around to face Sammy. After all these years.
If this was a movie, this would have been in slow-motion. I looked up to his face as he towered over me. And I whispered his name in recognition, "Sammy."
His expectant face lit up as if he was holding his breath and did not want to assume that I would recognize him. He gave me a most beautiful smile. Breath-taking.
The years had been good to him. He looked as handsome as I remembered him. He still had an eye patch on his left eye, but the same beautiful, long-lashed brown right eye twinkled in amusement at my startled gasp. What was it with that pirate look, I thought. It gave him a dangerous, exciting look.
Sammy stood tall and distinguished-looking in his military uniform. A full-fledged colonel. We both said the words, "Kumusta ka?" And we just stood there looking at each other. All those years apart, all we could say was "Kumusta ka? (How are You)".
We both chuckled, and then he softly hummed the song by Nonoy Zuniga; a whimsical take of that awkward moment when former lovers meet after years apart. and they both become tongue-tied.
Kumusta ka? Ikaw ay walang pinag-iba, Ganyan ka rin nang tayo ay huling magkita Tandang-tanda ko pa habang ako’y papalayo, Tinitingnan kita hanggang wala ka na Kumusta ka?
A whirlwind of emotions kept me speechless. My heart was beating fast, and I felt like a nineteen-year-old again.
Althea's sense of timing was perfect and prevented me from embarrassing myself with a senseless remark. She came back from her phone call, and, without any sign that she noticed anything unusual at the sight of us just staring at each other, introduced me to the Chief Medical Officer of the military hospital, Colonel Dr. Samuel....
Sammy nodded to me, shook my hand, and whispered "Later." It sounded like a promise.
I did not know how I managed to go through my one-hour lecture. The auditorium was filled to capacity with nurses from the different units in the hospital, as well as a good number of medical doctors. Teaching came naturally to me, and pretty soon, I engaged my students in my presentation.
I was supposed to spend lunch in a small catered affair at the administrative offices together with the rest of the speakers, but I was ushered by Althea's secretary to a waiting Mercedes outside the lobby. Sammy was in the driver's seat. He had changed to a crisp, nicely-pressed Barong Tagalog in deference to the hot weather.
Inside the air-conditioned car, Sammy's smile made my heart melt as he said, "Welcome back, Jo."
“I asked Althea for the privilege of your company, Jo. “, he explained. “I hope it’s okay with you.”
I nodded my agreement, secretly doing a high-five in my mind. I fumbled with my seat belt and he reached over to attach it. My cheeks felt hot at the closeness, but I maintained a calm facade, despite my turbulent emotions.
Surreptitiously studying his profile, I decided that with his salt-and-pepper hair, his firmer jaw, and his air of confidence, he looked more like George Clooney now. Gone was the self-consciousness of his younger years, when he was still a man coming to terms with his injury.
He looked like a man secure in himself, who had achieved far beyond any other man in his league. He wore success like a second skin.
The years apart fell away as we slipped into the easy conversation that we've always had when I was the student nurse and he was my patient.
Sammy told me that he went right to medical school after being discharged from the hospital. He had been outfitted with an artificial eye but did not feel comfortable with it, and instead opted for an eye patch. He recounted that he had never married; had two long-term relationships but had never married, although he has two grown-up sons who both finished college.
It felt natural to talk to him about my own life, and my failed marriage. He seemed to enjoy my stories about my close relationship with my son. The ride to the restaurant seemed short, and we were both reluctant to leave the car.
I could not remember much about the restaurant, except that it was quiet, with subdued lighting, and that we were seated at a secluded table with a grand piano at the side. It was romantic.
The food was excellent, but we hardly touched it. There was an undercurrent of excitement that brought a flush to my cheeks. Was it because he kept looking at me with such fierce yearning? Or was it me looking at him with hungry eyes?
After the dessert, Sammy pulled out a bouquet of roses from an extra chair. Did he order it in advance? He tentatively reached for my hand. I was surprised, but I did not pull my hand back. I was past the age of innocence, and I welcomed this new beginning.
We were being swept by a force much stronger than ourselves. I felt powerless to resist the pull of his smoldering eye; I just felt that the moment was right and that twenty-five years apart had just vanished, and we were at an important crossroads of our lives.
"I have been waiting for this moment, Jo. I never thought I would ever see you again." Sammy's sad smile brought me back to my clinical rotation in the Plastic Surgery unit when he sang Elton John's song to me.
He continued, "I'm good friends with Althea, but I never knew that you were classmates until she started talking about your college reunion. I discreetly asked her about her classmates, and then saw an old picture of you on her Facebook account."
I couldn't help laughing at that, and we soon were doubled up in laughter as he recounted also joining FB just so he could browse my own account. He had conspired with Althea to invite me to the Emergency Preparedness symposium.
I feigned annoyance, "Hmmph, I should have made my FB setting private."
He snorted at that, "I also found your blog post about me."
I must have looked shocked at his revelations, because he looked alarmed, probably thinking that he had pushed the limits. I was just completely overwhelmed, but I reassured him by squeezing his hands. All those feelings had rushed in, but I was excited at the chance to be with him again.
Sammy stood up and led me to the piano. As we sat together at the bench, he asked, "Remember this?", and proceeded to play "our song."
Elton John's song is not a love song, but at that time, just like it was twenty-five years ago, My Skyline Pigeon felt like an expression of love that could not be denied anymore.
I felt tears falling down my cheeks. Here I was, sitting beside this man, and I did not want to fly away again. After all these years, our shared passion came back unbidden. I had survived being alone for many years; my friends had often complimented me for my strength against adversity. I was at peace and happy being with my son.
I had resigned myself to a lifetime of being alone. But until now, I never realized that I had an empty space in my heart. I thought I would not feel loved again. I had long ago given up hope that I would find the courage to fall in love again.
Here was our second chance at happiness. What was important was that we found each other after twenty-five years. It was destiny.
As he sang to me, Sammy's face looked radiant and full of love. The magic enveloped us, and I did not care that we were a middle-aged couple and that we lived several continents apart.
After the last note, Sammy tenderly dried my tears and held me close. And then, he kissed me. It was meant to be.
I thought, “Oh God, please, do not let this be a dream.”
PART 3- THE SOLDIER, THE NURSE, AND TWO WORDS
We kissed. It was twenty-five years later after we first met, and thankfully, it was not just a dream.
Sammy tenderly held my face as we kissed. I felt like precious china in his embrace. My tears continued to fall as I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this moment that had brought us together. I felt him tremble as he controlled his emotions.
We did not stay long at the restaurant. He brought me back to the hospital and gave me a private tour of the place where we first met. My friend Althea, the Chief Nurse of the hospital who arranged the emergency preparedness symposium, was unreachable (by purpose, I'm sure), so Colonel Dr. Samuel drove around the huge campus to give me a funny and entertaining narrative of the changes in the landscape.
I used to be a student nurse, but I flew away to the United States to fulfill my American dream. He was my one-eyed patient; a victim of the wars in Southern Philippines. We never spoke of our feelings about each other until the last day of my clinical rotation; but there was an undeniable attraction, that just could not be fulfilled at that moment in time.
He went on to become a medical doctor in the army. He continued to serve his country and helped the soldiers that he still is. Sammy recounted that I served as his inspiration to move to the medical field. Despite being devastated by my leaving, he took comfort in the fact that I cared for him, even for just a short time.
We spent the rest of the day together, driving through Makati and Intramuros. I ditched my blazer and bought some cheap sandals from a sidewalk vendor. Sammy changed into a simple t-shirt. Pretty soon, after Sammy had safely parked his Mercedes in a hotel parking lot, we opted out of fancy restaurants.
We were like any other couple strolling hand-in-hand along the boulevard. We sat close on a bench and watched the famous Manila Bay sunset, talked, argued about politics, and laughed at each other's jokes.
Dinner was Chicken Joy, fish balls, and halo-halo. Cheap date, but the best I ever had. Priceless.
I pushed back all the other concerns, and all that mattered was that moment. I went into his warm embrace willingly; basking in the upsurge of emotions. We just held on to each other; fearful of being brought back to the reality that in just three days, I would be going back home to New York.
But reality stinks. I had to go back home to New York, back to my 20-year-old son who still needed my presence. Although he was preparing to go into medical school, I still needed to guide him as he transitioned to his own adult life. Sammy thought I was staying for a month as I had posted on FaceBook, but I explained to him that my plans had changed because my son had to transfer to his new dorm in a week.
He drove me home and met my mother, who eyed him with suspicion.
"He looks like a movie star. Even with just one eye, and his grey hair, he would still get all the girls. Have you not learned from your no-good ex-husband.?", my mother asked right after he left.
In two days, he had totally charmed my mother. Sammy came back the next day and brought all of us in the family to his house in Tagaytay. He was a humble man, despite the opulent surroundings and his well-furnished mansion.
Up there in the mountains, away from the teasing eyes of my family, Sammy spirited me away to another secluded place. We shared sweet kisses and fierce embraces.
He pulled out an old picture; it was a group picture of my classmates and me looking towards the make-shift stage when the patients in Sammy's group gave us a short program. I was at the center of the picture, in profile, my long hair pulled back in a ponytail and my lips curled up in a smile.
"I took this picture, and it has been in my possession for twenty-five years." he sighed. "I knew you had your dreams to follow. That's the only reason I did not pursue you after you left."
He said, "Last November, I woke up from a deep sleep, and as if somebody was calling me and touching my face. For whatever reason, I remembered the picture I have of you."
I gasped. I told him, "It was November of last year on Veteran's Day when I watched a Sam Milby movie. I paused the film, covered Sam's left eye, and thought of you."
Sammy hugged me close, and we both shivered at the strange coincidence. I believe that it was Divine Providence. Running his hands on my hair, Sammy confided that he prayed and asked God to help him find me.
"I found you; I will never let you go again."
And yet, I went back home to New York, back to my son. Sammy could not come to the airport because of a hospital emergency. On the phone, I said goodbye to him, my voice cracking with emotion. He was trying to tell me something but the sounds of the planes flying overhead drowned out any more conversation. I never even got to tell him that I love him.
Today... June 2012
I walk down the aisle with my handsome son escorting me. He tells me that I have never looked better. All around me, my friends and family smile and applaud; all sharing in the joy of this blessed moment.
I am marrying Sammy twenty-six years after I met him.
Unbeknownst to me, Sammy and his two sons followed me to New York after my vacation and met up with my son to ask for my hand in marriage.
My son arranged for me to meet him at the Roosevelt Tram station on Roosevelt Island, only to surprise me when he arrived with Sammy and his two sons. And there we were, just the five of us, up in the air in the tram when Sammy proposed to me.
Just as I have written in another blog post (where Sammy took the idea), the glorious orange, red, and purple colors of the sky over the East River on one side and the Manhattan skyline on the other side provided an awesome backdrop to the proposal.
I jumped in delight and the tram swayed in agreement. The four men all paled and grabbed the side rails inside the tram. Just after I said a resounding "Yes," all four men had tears in their eyes. It was perfect.
And here we are, back in the Philippines for the grand day. The chapel is bedecked with flowers. My friends had gone crazy; they've been waiting for this as a payback for those wacky bridal showers I have thrown before. So, why are they all wiping tears as I march under the outstretched swords of the military guards?
My groom, the colonel, the chief medical officer, and my one-eyed soldier is waiting for me at the front of the chapel. Although we had only been together for a short time, I am certain that he had never looked better. Tall, and fit with salt-pepper hair and his left eye patch. My handsome Sam Milby/ George Clooney soldier. His full-dress white military uniform commands attention; his insignia gleaming on his shoulder board. He is a prince. Mine.
His beautiful smile makes my heart sing. I want to run towards him; he's just a hop-scotch away but decorum insists that I march along with my handsome son. Besides, haven't we waited all these years already, so I can wait for just a few more minutes. We have the rest of our lives to spend with each other, but would one lifetime be enough?
The minister delivers a great sermon. I try to hold back my tears. But then I see the choir members crying.
Now, it's time for the wedding song by the soloist. To my surprise, the minister hands a microphone to Sammy.
My eyes widen in alarm that Sammy will sing "My Skyline Pigeon" here on our wedding day. It is a special song for us, and will always be "our song," but even I feel that it would not be appropriate for a wedding song.
Sammy winks at me, and as he holds my hand, he makes a promise with this song.
"I Do." Two words that seal the deal. And on this hour, I am being wed to my prince charming, who had held me in his heart and in his mind all these years.
I say "I do" for all the right reasons, for all the beautiful things that have happened to me since we've found each other, for these wonderful feelings of being cherished for who I am today.
I do want to spend the rest of forever with my soul mate. To discover more of the man that I love. I do want to make up for the lost time, not really regretting the years in between because I am today for what I've gone through. I do, because he makes me deliriously happy.
And so we will love each other, for all eternity, more than twenty-five years.
THE END
Part 1- Actually happened. I did not have any contact with Sammy at all after we parted ways. Part 2 & 3- Just a figment of my very bold imagination. What if? LOL.
She felt the first cold lick and thought she was dreaming. Bel woke with a start and saw a pair of big, brown eyes looking back at her. Brown fur glistened in the sun as woman and dog studied each other. He looked like a beagle but had that long body and short legs of a dachshund.
"Hey, doggie, where did you come from?"
Bel looked around the lawn cemetery for the dog's owner. There was no other living human in sight. The green lawn was dotted with bronze and granite headstones but there was no other car in the sections around her. Maybe he's the caretaker's dog.
Bel was a regular visitor to the cemetery ever since her husband Mike died after a long, drawn-out battle with bone cancer. Towards the end of his life, Mike tried to prepare Bel by pushing her back to the social scene and getting her to promise that she would go on with her life.
That was 3 years ago, and Bel was still mourning. Her sadness was so profound that she just went with the motions of living to allay her parents' worries; still able to do her job as a nurse in the local hospital, but the joy had disappeared in her life.
On Saturday mornings, she had tried to schedule shopping and other errands but always found herself driving the 15 minutes to the cemetery. She usually spent one hour at Mike's gravesite, with her portable chair and the latest book by her favorite authors. When Mike was still living, they spent Saturday mornings just lounging in the den with their respective books. Mike's grave was lovingly tended with impatiens and chrysanthemums planted on the headstone base.
The dog claimed her attention when he rubbed against her hand. The dog immediately nuzzled against her knee, then offered his belly for the obligatory rub.
Bel studied the dog again. His lips were curved as if in a smile and his eyes appeared to twinkle as if he found her stare amusing.
"What's your name? Who's your owner?" Not really expecting an answer, Bel was surprised when the dog padded over to the next grave and sat in front of the marker of a woman named Barbara. Bel often wondered about Barbara's visitor. They've never met but there were always fresh roses on the grave. Glancing at the marker, Bel realized that Barbara was only thirty years old when she died.
The dog barked softly and started walking away from the graves. Thinking that he was finding his way back to the caretaker's office, Bel waved goodbye to the dog and then turned to say her own goodbye to Mike.
Another bark made her turn around. The dog seemed to be waiting for her. As she walked toward him, the dog started to wag his tail happily. As Bel bent down to scratch the dog's ears, he just leaped into her arms and started licking her face.
It was a gray, dreary, and chilly late October morning when she arrived at 10 o'clock in the morning. In just one hour, it had become much warmer, and the bright sun reigned bright in the cloudless sky. Bel breathed in the crisp air as she stood on an almost postcard-perfect autumn day.
Although the grave markers around her should have created an eerie and incongruous sight against a backdrop of red and gold leaves from the maple and dogwood trees, they had somehow created an ethereal but peaceful display of life's reality. Death surrounded her but the beauty of living still manifested itself in the vibrant colors of the fall foliage. The changing seasons reaffirmed life in sadness; after the fall comes winter, spring, summer, then fall again. Life goes on.
The panorama before her brought a sense of peace and happiness. The beauty of the autumn colors transformed her. Just as these feelings washed over Bel, she felt her depression lifting away as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. The tears were not of sadness but allowed her the catharsis for the grief that had trapped her for three years. As she looked into the dog's eyes, she remembered Mike's insistence for her to find new love. She had nodded her agreement to placate her dying husband, but in her heart, she felt her emotions draining from her heart. She had thought then, "How can I love another man when I have given you all my love?"
The dog snuggled closer to Bel. As she felt the dog's warm fur tickling her nose, Bel started to giggle uncontrollably. The unfamiliar sound of laughter bubbled out of her until she fell back on the green grass. The dog ran around in circles, his tail wagging in sync with Bel's laughter. She had not felt as light-hearted and as carefree for many years now.
Bel crouched in front of Mike's marker. Mike had always been the optimist, and he would not have approved of the cloak of sadness that Bel had wrapped herself after his death. At that moment, she realized that she needed to move on. She had finally freed herself. She realized that there was no guilt in finding joy in unexpected places.
In the caretaker's office, the receptionists did not know to who the dog belonged to. Bel was the first visitor to the cemetery that day, and the residential and business areas were much farther away. When Bel suggested that she wanted to leave the dog in the office just in case the owner came back, both ladies reluctantly refused because they were leaving for a party after their shift.
Bel was forced to keep the dog with her but left a brief note in the caretaker's office. She didn't write a description of the dog, just her office number.
In the car, the dog dutifully sat on the front passenger side. Driving back to her house, Bel kept a running commentary of the stores they passed. The dog did not bark throughout the ride but looked at her with the same strange expression that she could only interpret as a smile.
"Doggie, you need a name. Just can't keep you calling Doggie until your owner shows up. How about... uhmm... Brownie?" Bel chuckled at the unimaginative name. She did not want to emotionally attach herself to the dog and resolved to find its owner as soon as possible.
Brownie showed his approval by barking twice and moving his head up and down.
The days passed without any word from Brownie's owner. Bel had been in telephone contact with the receptionists from the cemetery office. There were no inquiries about a lost dog. Bel even left a note in the local ASPCA.
Brownie settled happily into their routine. During her workdays, Bel dropped the dog at her parents' home for the day. Coming home had become the highlight of her day as Brownie welcomed her with unabashed joy. Ignoring the treats she had given him, Brownie's attention was focused on his "temporary" master regaling Bel with his frantic runs around the house. After drifting aimlessly through life over the past 3 years, Bel finally had someone who needed her. As the bond forged between her and Brownie, she dreaded finding the dog's owner.
WINTER 2009
The new Bel had weaned herself from visiting the cemetery frequently. It was a month later that Bel visited Mike's grave with Brownie. It was only late November but the ground was covered in fresh snow. The bare trees and the snow icicles hanging from the branches created a magical scene straight out of a Currier and Ives winter postcard.
Bel brushed the snow from Mike's marker, and somehow, ended up brushing the snow on the next grave, Barbara's. Her flowers from a month before were buried by 3 inches of snow. After a few minutes, Bel decided to leave but noticed that Brownie was circling around her as if he still wanted to play.
She slipped on the snow and fell on her back facing the bright blue sky. Brownie sat on her chest, with his now-familiar expectant face. His tail thumped heavily on her sides; clearly, he wanted to play. Feeling playful and unusually happy, Bel spread her arms on the fluffy, powdery snow and created her Snow Angel. Brownie jumped around her as Bel abandoned all inhibitions and relived her childhood memories.
Life is beautiful. No worries, no grief. Just happiness at finding hope again.
She imagined that she was in the middle of a winter wonderland; her dog was frolicking on the snow as she continued to play Snow Angel. Bundled up in heavy winter clothes complete with scarf, gloves, and beret, Bel was completely comfortable. The disturbed snow flew around her and she stuck her tongue out to taste the snowflakes. Brownie resumed his position on her chest and watched Bel curiously. Then at the sound of an approaching car Brownie stirred and barked excitedly.
Mortified, Bel sat up suddenly. Her words of caution died on her lips when Brownie bolted straight into the arms of a man.
"Boomer, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you! I miss you."
Bel sat transfixed in her spot. Brownie is really Boomer? And his owner is here to claim my baby? Am I going to lose Brownie?
The man was tall, with a kind and handsome face. He stared curiously at Bel before he came to her and offered his hand.
"My name is Jack. The receptionists in the office told me that you found my dog. I never thought to look for him here because we live one town away." Jack hugged Brownie/Boomer, ruffling the dog's fur with undeniable affection.
When the wind picked up, Bel's beret fell off her head and her hair flew wildly around her face. Not normally self-conscious, Bel felt embarrassed at the picture she presented, with her red cheeks and nose and snow all over her. She tried to get up from her sitting position but kept on slipping down. She finally accepted a helping hand from the amused Jack.
Jack deposited his bouquet of flowers on Barbara's grave. "My wife. Boomer's original owner." Surprised, Bel looked at the dog, but he seemed more interested in chewing the fringes on her beret.
Bel relayed the story of finding "Brownie" and how the dog had changed her life. The question of how the dog ended up miles away from home and at Barbara's grave remained unanswered. Brownie (or Boomer) was happily ensconced in Jack's arms while Bel spoke. Her voice broke a little at the end. The dog moved over to Bel's lap; he must have sensed her growing agitation about their forthcoming separation.
Jack looked at Bel for a minute, then he smiled, "I guess we should discuss joint custody arrangements."
SPRING 2010
"I guess we should discuss joint custody arrangements."
Jack had suggested this to Bel last winter. At the cemetery, Jack was stunned but relieved to be reunited with his dog Max after a month-long search for the mixed-breed beagle-dachshund. How the dog ended at the cemetery where his wife was buried remained a mystery to both Jack and Bel.
Bel's husband Mike had died from bone cancer three years ago, and she was a regular visitor to the cemetery. That was where she found the dog she named Brownie last Fall.
The seasons had changed. Now, Spring had come.
Bel had felt energized with the changing season. Truth be told, she felt buoyant after two seasons spent with Brownie. Last Fall, the dog had saved her from an almost certain descent into a bottomless pit of despair and hopelessness. She had finally let go of the cloud of grief surrounding her with Mike's passing. Then in December, in the cold of winter, Jack came and was reunited with Boomer.
Jack. The man surprised her with his willingness to share his Boomer with a total stranger. Bel did not know why she readily agreed to the arrangement; perhaps it was because she just welcomed anything that would allow Brownie to stay in her life. Besides, Jack looked trustworthy and friendly.
The joint custody meant two weeks of Brownie every month. Jack explained that he occasionally had to travel out of state and the arrangement would mean that he did not have to drop Boomer at the kennel. It also meant that she saw Jack every two weeks when they met at the cemetery to drop/pick up Brownie/Boomer.
Jack and Bel had shared the stories of their respective spouses' passing. Barbara died from a motor vehicular crash two years ago. At 30 years old, she was in the prime of her life. Jack admitted that the experience shook him to deep depths of anguish, but he had held onto his sanity by spending his time with Boomer. Barbara's dog had given Jack a much-needed focus to continue living.
Jack thought he had lost Boomer forever when he got home from work one Fall day and didn't hear the familiar welcoming barks. He related to Bel his frantic search for the dog but that he did not imagine finding him miles and miles away from home.
"I am overjoyed to find Boomer here in the cemetery. " With twinkling eyes, he teased Bel, "Little did I know that I would find him romping around in the snow with the snow angel."
Embarrassed at being caught indulging in a rare display of carefree abandon, Bel stammered an excuse. She did not realize that she presented a pretty picture with her red nose and her hair covered with fluffy snow.
Bel sent the dog home with Jack after they exchanged information. She felt grateful to Jack for his sensitivity but understood that it was Jack's turn to enjoy Boomer's company.
After just three days of quiet at home, Bel became more restless, her heart aching to see Brownie. She found herself at a nearby dog park which she discovered shortly after finding Brownie. It had been a favorite for both of them because dogs were allowed to run around leash-free in the park.
Bel had been sitting on the park bench for a while when from out of nowhere Brownie/Boomer sprinted straight up to her, with his long golden brown floppy ears and wagging tail. Although the dog had responded to both names, in Bel's mind, he would always be Brownie to her. Jack was equally surprised at their chance encounter. He had passed the dog park right after their last visit to the cemetery. Boomer had barked continuously to get his attention until he was forced to stop at the side of the road and then discovered the dog park. They had frequented the dog park ever since.
Bel and Jack watched in silence as Brownie/Boomer interacted with the other dogs. Bel and Jack watched with shared pride as the mixed Beagle-dachshund quickly established himself as a leader among dogs much bigger than him.
That began their weekly meet at the dog park. Over time, the desultory conversations gave way to an easy companionship. The wariness had lifted and in its place came friendship.
One day, Brownie/Max decided for whatever reason to abandon playtime with the other dogs. He stationed himself between his two masters as they sat on the bench. Bel automatically reached over to pet the dog, at exactly the same time Jack did. It was just an innocent contact, but Bel was shocked at the intense emotions that washed over her.
Confused about why she felt like a hormonal schoolgirl, Bel laughed to cover her confusion and to bide time to regain her composure. Brownie/Boomer, oblivious of the undercurrents, demanded attention by running to a corner to relieve himself.
One week later, Jack traveled out of state on business; he worked as a business consultant for a major engineering company. Three days later, Bel received a call from Jack. Her heart did a funny turn when she heard Jack's voice. As always, the talk centered on Max/Boomer's many antics. Then Jack cleared his voice and said, "I miss Boomer." After a short pause, he continued, "I miss you too."
The unexpected declaration flustered Bel; she thought she heard it distinctly but convinced herself that she had just misheard. Not knowing how to respond, she pretended that she did not hear the loaded sentence and quickly changed the subject. They made plans to meet in the cemetery.
Bel felt uncertain about her growing feelings for Jack and thought that her attachment to Brownie opened her vulnerability to the attention of a handsome man. At this point in her life and has just surfaced from the deep sadness brought by Mike's passing, and she did not want any complications. She did not want to explore a future beyond just living for the moment. She acknowledged that her loyalty to Mike's memories had chained her to a solitary life, but did not want to change the status quo. "Not yet. I'm not ready.", she told herself.
Two days later, Bel stood in front of Mike's grave. The Spring air smelled clean with the freshly-mown lawn. Signs of new life brightened the cemetery; new budding leaves reasserted themselves from the trees. Bel bent down to touch the purple crocuses that had sprouted from the ground. There was still left-over snow on that patch of ground but the bulbs that she had planted a month ago rose in defiance and provided a bright contrast against the whiteness of the snow.
Yes, Spring had come... a time of growth, of new beginnings.
Brownie barked behind her. Bel turned and faced a smiling Jack. Man and woman against the backdrop of their respective spouses' graves. The sun shone brightly and somewhere a robin chirped. The scene evoked a sense of rightness; as if the changing season brought blessings of renewal and regrowth. The snow had melted. One look at Jack and the promise in his eyes melted the frost in Bel's heart.
"Bel, I meant what I said on the phone. I missed you."
Jack reached out and held Bel's hands. Brownie rushed Bel from behind and made her fall forward, straight into Jack's arms. Where it was warm and safe. Where there was the promise of love.
SUMMER 2010
Bel and Jack stood in front of their former spouses' graves. The couple paid their respects the day after their wedding. They were headed to the mountains of North Carolina in a cabin in the woods to celebrate their new lease on life. With their best man, the dog.
Life had grown full circle; the seasons had changed. From profound sadness to the grateful appreciation of love's healing touch.
The summer breeze brought the fulfillment of the promise made in spring. A riot of honeysuckles, lupins, dahlias, and asters competed for attention under the aspen tree in a picture-perfect summer scene. The sun dazzled as it bathed the cemetery in its warm embrace. Even the lowly dandelions flourished and stood tall while butterflies flitted happily around the grave markers; unlikely and incongruous at best, but somehow, the blissful view reaffirmed the hope for second chances.
Love found its way, in an unexpected place, surprising the reluctant lovers brought together by a dog. That same dog strutted around the grave in his customized tuxedo from yesterday's wedding ceremony. Bel decided to end the confusion and started to call the dog Boomer after all. He had eluded the newlyweds' attempt to divest him of his favorite suit. The dog had looked mighty impressive for a canine with his newly-groomed and silky brown fur. And now, it looked as if he was enjoying his upgraded status to Best Dog. He was basking in the sense of self-importance.
Somehow sensing the solemnity of the moment, the dog stopped pacing and faced the couple who had bowed their heads in silent commune with their departed loved ones. Their love is in full bloom, and they want to share their happiness with Mike and Barbara. Bel and Jack held hands, each one promising each other's departed to nurture the love that was cut short by tragedy. There was no sadness because there was the joyous realization that their union was blessed.
In true fashion, Boomer broke the reverie and claimed his masters' attention by licking the couples' joined hands. His eyes were bright, his tail thumped happily, and then he smiled.
THE END
"How did you know I needed someone like you in my life That there's an empty space in my heart You came at the right time in my life"
PS. Our own Brownie had been a delight and a treasure since he came into our lives, but now, we mourn his passing. We miss him so much. 9/8/2012
Our family opened our hearts to another dog we named Boomer.
