My (Twisted) Concept of Letting Go....

I had it for more or less seven years. The moment I first saw it in my nanay's collection, I knew that I was meant to be its owner. It has my name written all over it----it was funky and unconvential---totally like my views, ideals, and life concepts.

There's just one oddity about it though that puzzles some people who constantly see me wearing it---I did not bother to have its battery replaced---so that means that the whole seven years that I was wearing it, it wasn't working. I would just sometimes joke about it and answer, "Oh, that's because I don't want to be a slave of time, that's why."

It was very much like this. However, mine has still tiny details on the wings that make it more appealing.

But deep inside, I had a whole different reason----- because just like the clock, I was stranded.... 


It had become my perfect accessory in every special occasions and ordinary events----if I feel lazy to dress up, I just wear it with my most boring shirt and jeans and it becomes a day-saver; I wear it with any dresses in special events and it adds a classy touch.

It had also become my amulet and lucky charm-----I wear it in moments when I feel I need to be a little bit tougher and edgier-----so I was wearing it during contests way back in college, during interviews, during graduation, and during my licensure exam.

So you see, it was present in almost all seasons and points in my life for almost seven years. Sure, it's just a piece of accessory. But we have to admit it that at one point in our lives, there is one thing that we couldn't just let go of our grasps easily, not because we couldn't live without them, but because it had become our history, it had become what defines us.  It didn't occur to me that one day, I have to eventually let it go....and I wasn't even given a premonition or a sign.

It was around 5:30 in the afternoon at the MRT terminal in Ayala, a perfect moment of rush hour. Bessy and I were standing, waiting for a train that we wish would have just a little bit of space for us to fit in, since 2 trains have already passed and we didn't get the chance to get inside.

When we saw a coming train Bessy told me, "Au, handa ka dun ha." And when the train's doors were opened, everything became a blur of people complaining, of bodies being squished, of feet being stepped on by several sets of feet, of afternoon odors mingling in the air----and I just found myself standing inside the moving train, holding firmly to a post as if hanging on for dear life. Then I took a deep breath and managed to smile at Bessy, saying, "Baw mayad lang nakasal-ot kita."

And then I felt a weird kind of lightness that I instantly grabbed my watch in my chest. Only, there was nothing to be grabbed. I tried again, and all I felt was the gold chain hanging on my neck from end to end, broken, without my ladybug watch on it.

It's a wonder up to know how I managed to be calm that time. I can even remember talking to myself calmly, "Nahulog na 'to kagina au. Okay lang. Nahulog na guid 'to." I didn't panic, I didn't even complain to Bessy about it for I felt that if I'm going to tell her that I lost it, I would definitely burst out. So, I just kept quiet, and until now, she doesn't have any idea about that incident, nor my mother who gave it.

And then I realized, that moment was very much like the moment when Inday Ana passed away, when Inday Nancy had to eventually rest-----the moment you realize that something and someone important is gone and you have to let go, that fact will not kick you right straight into the gut nor does it feel like hearing a thousand drums banging, signifying of finality. No. It feels more like a silent echo of a footstep from a bare foot, more like the gentle whisp of air on a summer day. It is more of being left with a hollow in your heart that would eventually feel whole again, but would never be again filled.

That moment when I realized that I lost my ladybug watch taught me one lesson which was actually presented before in several events in my life but which I just failed to recognize-----that at the moment when you realize that certain people and things have to leave and you have to let go, there is not much drama or wailing or asking all the "why's"-----it is actually a quiet and tender moment. All people who have lost something or someone so important at one point in their lives clearly know this. The questions and the wailing and the drama come later, when it's already a bit bearable to do just that.

The fact that I'm writing it here (So Bessy man-an mo dun. Nadura ya lady bug ko. Dumduman mo 'tong pag-walkathon ta sa Makati nga nagbakal dulang ako tsinelas? Pag-uli ta nabugto....huhu....Akigan guid ako ni nanay maman-an na, hahaha....) and I can complain about it means that I am over it and I accepted the fact that it's lost. I forgave the person who most probably pushed me or grasped me that time to be able to get in the train. Most importantly, I also forgive myself for allowing that to happen by not thinking about the possibilities.

And maybe, just maybe, it was one way of telling me that I'm no longer what I think I am, that I'm not anymore the same as the broken ladybug watch.....that I'm in fact, no longer stranded.