Sto. Domingo Church

And so lately I have been finding refuge in Sto. Domingo Church.

Two days after her demise, I visited her wake with two missions--- to ensure that all of her valued things are placed in a bag to be entombed together with the coffin on the day of her burial, and to digitize photos for submission for her wake's video. Probably because there were a lot of things to do, it felt as if she were still with us. 

June 26, a highschool friend invited me to watch Rak of Aegis in PETA Theater. I asked her if she could first help me drop the two boxes of milk I solicited from workmates at Sto. Domingo Church. She agreed.

Last Sunday, June 27, was the interment of my yaya's body. My sisters and I headed to Taytay to pay our final respects to the woman who chose to stay with us even though ours is a difficult family. We waited for the tomb to be cemented and all until we left and it was already late in the afternoon when we had our lunch somewhere near Sta. Lucia East Grand Mall. Traffic was heavy so we opted to stop by a Pares canteen.

Then I commuted to Sto. Domingo Church while my sisters went straight home. Volunteers were repacking school materials for the schoolchildren of Mindoro and Zambales. I said I wouldn't be able to go because I was still hurting except I didn't tell them that I've been thinking about how a person can give so much and yet in the end she is taken for granted. But I guess something in the church was drawing me to it. 

Mass was being said when I got there but I headed straight to the toilet to relieve myself first. Then mass, where I got teary-eyed. "What is the cause of death?" the priest asks rhetorically. How apt to talk about death and sin.

After mass, I went to my favorite place, except that people was crowding the place and I couldn't enjoy the beautiful solitude I experienced days prior when the boys whom I have become fond of made me wait for 2 hours. So I just lighted 10 candles, said a quick prayer and then off to where the volunteers were repacking things.

They were just about to finish. I did help in cleaning. It was of course insubstantial and I was a bit ashamed to be there just when they were wrapping up.

Today I delivered the final box of milk. It was about to rain when I left the office and thank God it didn't end up in heavy downpour. Heavy heavy load. A kind stranger offered to carry the box for me as I climbed the stairs of the footbridge but I graciously declined and thanked him for the offer. Made me think about how poor I am at asking for help from people. I tend to just rely on myself. Probably the reason why men aren't too happy with me. Friends say I must learn how to be weak sometimes. But to that I say, I don't want to have the habit of having someone to rely onto. I'm comfortable doing things on my own. [Okaaaaaay, insert Eagles' Desperado here...]

I prayed the rosary. And the tears, how they flowed. I remember back in April last year when I attended mass all alone in the same church and it was weird and awkward to suddenly be crying. I felt all alone then. Now I cry even more, because the Light is gone now. And well, just yesterday I received the news that a dear UP prof died of cardiac arrest. He was never my prof but I met him when I went with his photojournalism class to Puerto Galera. He became an instant idol, a very very BIG man with a BIG heart and BIG talents. He's one of a kind, with his crazy sunglasses and super pout which became part of his signature look in his photos. He was someone I looked up to a lot to the point that I wanted to be like him. [And I think I'm doing a good job now... I hope.]

So I prayed for them both. Prayed hard for the eternal repose of their souls, that they may finally find peace and happiness.

And I also prayed for myself, that I may find the courage to live up to the standards I have set for myself. I know that I'm being too hard on myself but I wanted to make them proud as they watch over us from Heaven.