One year after Mother crossed over, I didn’t realize it slowly changed the memory pictured in my mind of my hometown.
I don’t know if that newest impression etched will soon fade as time goes by and revert back to that of memories past of good and happy summers during my childhood as I narrated here remembering Calabanga and also here in reminiscing Calabanga.
The summer of last year I was home for the family event that would have made and added happy memories with the celebration and marking of another milestone in mother’s life and in our family members’ lives altogether.
But some unfortunate accident made her end up at the hospital with a cracked pelvis.
We knew she would make it through, as in the past.
Three years ago she had a fall which caused damage to the region between her thigh and pelvis. It was easy, we had her operation with a titanium inserted to connect the bone that was fractured.
The healing consumed months coupled with her complaints of discomfort and pain despite the dosage of medicine and pain relievers. But she made it and returned to normal daily life. She walked again and became even more active in her social circle.
And many years back, she also had one of her arm fractured which with hospitalization and medicine and moaning, she made it through, the first time.
So that last summer, when she had that bad fall again, we thought it will be the same as the previous two.
I arrived in the hospital that Wednesday with an early morning drizzle outside. While at her bedside I saw her smile telling the doctor how proud she was of her children. (On that day, I changed the cover photo of my social media account, which is up until now).
On Thursday just past midnight, her birth date though, she had a seizure and about four in the morning, we were processing the papers for her transfer to the ICU.
There was so much fear and confusion rushing through my brain that time. I joined my siblings in the watch.
The down pour of things bad came which were so much to take. She had a bad heart, an enlargement of the heart and many more, as with the case of persons with advanced age. (She was already taking maintenance meds before the fall). It only took one freak accident to make things complicated and become more difficult to deal with, it seemed.
Mother was made to take a high doze of branded anti-biotic every eight hours. That choice was made with the advice of my niece who is a doctor in close consultation with the specialist doctors. By coincidence, the attending physicians somehow were my niece’s friends.
Despite my brothers’ and sister’s having paid already the pelvic replacement or something, the procedure didn’t push through. She went away last summer. There never was a grand birthday celebration, after all.
A month after and back to my place, I browsed the notes on my phone made March of that year. There it was, I have noted based on news read of an article about an actress who was hospitalized with a simple illness but passed away because the doctors failed to diagnose early the occurrence of sepsis.
Every time I think of Calabanga, I would always hear the soft melancholy start of drizzle then ascending to the resounding, echoing drops of rain on the rooftop, on the pavement outside, on the nearby clogged creek at the back window.
When my mother went away, there was no rain. Only courage. Even until we brought her to her resting place. There was only courage.
Now writing this post, I saw droplets of rain fell on my keyboard. It’s always raining in Calabanga. I knew it!
Here’s the link of the video on our Youtube channel: It’s always raining in Calabanga.
(Please note- Our sound and video guys says:
It is much desired if you watch this 1080p video using a headphone with noise cancelling capability on your computer or laptop (better still on large TV monitor as rendering is very crisp and clear). The music can be barely heard without the headphone. Difficulty was encountered in cleaning the original audio captured as the original rain sound is being wiped out.)