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March 17, 2017 - This week, some big words got stuck in my head... hepatoma, carcinoma, tumor-marker. These are not new to me since i studied and graduated from a health-related course back in college. But what gave these names their Epoxy-like properties in my brain is the bunch of recent reports I got from my sister, Ate Jiji, through our Facebook messenger group for siblings only. And they were all of my father - the rock in our family. When something solid in your life is comprised, your whole world is shaken.

The first of a series.
This one told me that God is always in control.
Not me.

The stubborn "youngest child" in me refuses to give in to wailing. I had to be strong. I must be strong. I must always be strong and stoic. When I was young and my siblings and I were being given a sermon at the dinner table by our parents, my two sisters would be first to give in to tears, I would do my darnedest to do the opposite. Now I think back, what pride. Tsk, tsk, tsk. I thought I wanted to be strong for the rest of my family, especially for my mother who's getting old. I only realise now that I was trying to be strong for me. Because, like my father, I used to hide my emotions- my way of protecting the vulnerable little child living inside of me.

The Rock sharing a moment with
the vulnerable little child.

The Rock walking  me towards the church
on a bed of rose petals and green grass - and then down the aisle...

Growing up, I knew that only two things would try to take my father away from me and my family: disease of the liver or the lungs. My father is both a chain smoker and a heavy drinker for most of his life. He is turning 70 this year. So that's a lot of nicotine and alcohol accumulating inside of him and we (his family) are not stupid enough to think that he can somehow trick death in some way. But we are a hopeful bunch. Plus, never underestimate the power of a praying woman, wife, mother. My mother.

Here with the powerful praying
wife and mother, Mama Dodie.
(pic Feb. 2017)

Though so far I have not yet given in to the wailing urge, there are times while I am at work in the office that i catch myself staring into space and being still. Or, when no one is around or looking, my face scrunch up into a grimace and tears start to sting my eyes, and i feel something pierce my heart.

What happened this week did not come as a surprise for me and my family. But one is, of course, never prepared for these things no matter how much they are expected. I felt my mother trying to stay strong while i spoke to her on the phone. I am not fooled. Before she is a mother, she is foremost a wife. My heart goes out to her.