I always hear about the death of other people's loved ones and we're saddened at their loss for a brief moment and then for us, life goes on. I always thought that grief was series of feelings that came in through stages - shock, denial, anger, sorrow and then finally, letting go. It was only when it finally happened to me that grief was something that I cannot even define by words. Try as I might to make sense of it and understand it, I couldn't. It was a series of feelings that cannot be labeled, but only felt. It is in a sense a different kind of intense confusion.
Last Sunday evening, I found out that my best friend Berta passed away. We weren’t life long friends, but we became very close during college. For some reason we just clicked and hung out almost 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. We never ran out of anything to talk about and we did a lot of things together. We were there for each other’s wonderful moments and heart aches about guys. We went out and enjoyed life with Kares, Rica and Mina. We talked and wondered about our future plans. Our few fights never even lasted a day. I remember that I would always pick her up for school, hung out in between classes, take her home, pick her up to go out then take her home again and then we’d call each other on the phone to talk some more. I would even take her to the barber shop and me – not having showered, to get her hair cut and I’d instruct the barber on how she wanted it done. She was in a sense an obsessive compulsive person. We lived and enjoyed our college days.
She was seldom home and always with me and I wondered why. It was one evening when she asked me to pick her up that she poured out her family problems. She was having fights with her sister and it became so intense that she asked to live with me. My house had always been open to people. You see my mother is to me – the best mother in the world. She welcomed Berta with open arms. And so she lived with us in our tiny townhouse, but during the day, Berta would go home to sleep in the afternoon. I guess in a sense she missed her home, but could only stay there when her sister was not around.
One day I found out from Kares that acid was thrown on Berta and that she was rushed to the hospital. I thought it was only a minor injury as I rushed to the emergency room of Makati Med. Acid was thrown on her face and she had swallowed some of it. She looked like she was only sunburned. As I was crying and holding her hand, she still manage to say something to make me laugh, I just don’t remember what it was. That was one of the things about Berta; she always tried to make people feel better in spite of a terrible situation.
I tried to comfort Berta – telling her that she would get better in a week as I thought in my mind. But things did not get better in a week, instead her condition got worse. I remember visiting her at around 4 in the morning a week after the incident happened seeing her face literally the color blue. Later on I started to find out that the type of acid that was thrown on her deformed her face reduced the size of her nostrils, mouth and contracted her throat and caused her to lose her sight. She constantly had to be pain killers and took sleeping pills to help her sleep. She had numerous operations for her face and to expand her mouth and throat. On certain instances she almost died. She was in so much pain that at one point she was already taking morphine.
All that time at the hospital she was constantly surrounded by her family, friends and strangers, and nurses who gave her comfort at the times when we we’re not there. So many people cared and preached God to her and that gave her strength to bear the tremendous physical, emotional and mental pain. I, for one am grateful for that. That time, her faith in God was beginning to solidify. I think God was helping her see more despite her physical blindness.
After a very long time in the hospital, she was finally discharged and able to go home. Her family had to go through a difficult adjustment and so began the numerous tantrums, leaving the house to live at Pastor Mark’s and to live with me. She then tried to commit suicide, but thank God it never succeeded. Despite that time of chaos, she was starting to develop a wonderful and affectionate relationship with her mother. She was finally getting that sense of closeness that she had long sought for. They would of course, fight from time to time, but always made up. She loved her very much.
Despite her disability, Berta never allowed herself to become helpless. She and her family worked hard to seek medical and financial help. Blessings poured all over – money and support came from family, friends and strangers. And a doctor from John Hopkins responded that he would treat her for free! Berta was featured in a newspaper and in the local TV show “Pipol”. Her story was exceptional, but her faith and strength was awesome. Miracles were happening left and right and I always believed that they would continue to because her faith was tremendous.
When was physically stronger, we would go out with friends, go shopping and we went on out of town trip. She taught me how to guide her, but whenever we would be at the mall and we would have to take the escalator, I always felt that I would have a heart attack- fearful of the timing that I would have to make to guide her on the right step of the ascending and descending staircase. Mind you, we would laugh about it. She also made jokes about her disability to make things light. She had a one of a kind sense of humor that makes me smile whenever I remember our times together.
The time came that she left for the states and although I would miss her, I was happy for her. We would talk on the phone and email each other. She got a job at the National Federation for the Blind in Baltimore and I think through one of the programs that she was involved in; she met Justin who later on became her husband. She would email pictures to friends and through the numerous plastic surgeries; her face was starting to take shape again. She was happy and she looked very healthy. She then developed an eventual American accent and it was cool. She continuously involved herself in programs and traveled. She and Justin got their own place and she planned to continue her studies. She always stayed in touch with family.
The last time we spoke was on my birthday. She never forgot to call during holidays and on my birthdays. We kept tabs on what was going on in each others lives generally. We weren’t that much in touch after that and it was my fault. I always intended on calling her but I had taken that for granted. Her birthday was on September 20 and I emailed her, telling her that I would call but I didn’t. I regret that very much.
Then last Sunday happened. I found out from Tita Geri that Berta had passed away. I rushed to our friend Candice’s house where we gathered to find out what had happened. She and Justin were already in bed and Berta got up to go to the bathroom and fell. She said she was okay and went back to bed. She then had a seizure and was rushed to the hospital. And she began a different journey. She went to heaven.
I’m still somewhat in denial. I would like to think that she’s just in the states and that I would visit her next year. I will miss her, but I know deep in my heart, that she was happy here and even happier in heaven. She, for me, is the living testimony that miracles do happen. I remembered one evening when she was living in our little townhouse, when we were having one – among the many conversations about life; she asked why we hadn’t been sisters. I told her that we are. I am an only child but she is my sister – a sister who taught me so much and helped me regain my faith. I would like to say so much more – use many different words to describe what an incredibly wonderful person she is, but I am at a loss. Language can be limiting sometimes.
I love her so much and perhaps in heaven someday we will see each other again.
