Let me tell you about my grandfather…

Whenever someone close to me passes, I usually do some sort of entry on my journal where I talk about how special they are. I haven’t done that in a while, but I figured I’d do one for my grandfather, Gonzalo Baylon. The best way for me to honor him is to speak about his character.

Lolo Salo had the kindest soul. He was a strong man, yet he was gentle. My Lolo and Lola met when he worked at my Lola’s family’s farm. My Lolo herded the cows and tended to them. My great grandfather, Andres Calungsod, set an arranged marriage for my Lola, Caridad Calungsod, to marry my Lolo! Lolo Andres said that my Lola will NEVER find a man as loving and caring as Lolo Salo. At the time, my Lola did not take this news well because she had other suitors that she deemed were better matches for her, but they married. And they had children, many of them. My Lola at one point in their marriage fell very ill. And my grandfather, the best way he knew how, cared for her with all his heart and soul. And they fell in love.

I asked my mom about her favorite memory of Lolo. She said she LOVED it when she would fall asleep in the living room and he would pick her up and take her to her room to sleep. My aunt later on told me that her brothers and sisters would pretend to fall asleep just so he could carry them upstairs. When he laid them down on the bed, he was often met with eyes wide open or giggles.

I didn’t have the privilege to spend most of my years with Lolo by my side. But he let me know that he often thought about me. He never said an unkind word about me when others would. Lolo always was the peaceful and calm one of the couple. It’s interesting to see who inherited his mannerisms in the family. If you look through pictures of him, you will soon discover that my Lolo loved to smile and was always stylish wearing his sunglasses. He had a soft spot for children. He lost his oldest and his youngest child at very young ages; a pain a parent should never bear. I think this is why he has a soft spot for kids.

My Lolo LOVED to dance. He didn’t care WHAT kind of music. He just moved to the beat. When I was in high school, someone had put on a Mystikal CD and he busted a move, let me tell ya.

My Lolo was not judgemental. He just took in information and trusted the Lord to help him through his hardships. That’s probably the most important thing about my Lolo: the fact that his faith was unshakable! He loved God and was always praying. Through his bouts of Alzheimer’s Disease, there were two things that remained constant for him. 1. The Lord and 2. My grandmother. Everyone else, even his own children, he would sometimes forget.

My Lolo didn’t finish elementary school. His highest level of education was 4th grade. But he had so much knowledge and wisdom and instilled that into his children. He also instilled in them a hard work ethic and focused on education being important. All of his children are successful in their fields of practice.

I’m grateful to God I got to see my Lolo one last time this past year. May and June 2011 changed my life in more ways than one. There are memories when Lolo had bouts of clarity that I am holding on to for dear life. One was when he was in the hospital. I told him I was leaving to go back to the house. And he replied with impeccable timing and humor, “Why are you leaving me? Don’t you love me?” I responded, “Of course, I do! But I need to take a shower, I smell bad.” He chuckled and said, “Yeah, you do. Don’t forget to always pray, ok?” And his stubbled face and lips touched my cheek and he gave me a kiss.

My Lolo’s kiss is not just an ordinary kiss. No, it was special. He didn’t pucker up his lips and kiss you in that manner. He put his nose and lips to your cheek and breathed in. He just breathed you in as if he was clinging to your smell to store in his memory. I kiss Lilly like that sometimes and she gets tickled pink.

If my future husband could be a quarter of the man my Lolo was, I would be enthralled in my marriage. My Lolo was by no means perfect, but he was the prime example of what a father should be. He even fathered many of his grandchildren, me included.

I was told when I was younger, I was usually a quiet kid. So when one of my cousins would fight with me, I would cry. Immediately, my grandfather would come to my rescue and ask, “Who’s bothering, Marianne? What are you doing to her?” with anger. But one of the gentle memories of him is when I had a balloon that accidentally flew away and got caught at the top of this tall tree by our house. I immediate asked Lolo to cut the tree down so I could get my balloon back. He didn’t look at his 5 year old granddaughter and laugh or ridicule this ridiculous request. Instead he was empathetic, said that the tree deserved to live and moved on from there.

I can’t say enough kind words about my Lolo. But this is just a snapshot of his heart. A heart I miss so much, I steal tear up when I think of him. My selfish heart breaks because I long to hold his hand or try to playfully frighten him or mock the silly sounds he made. But I know he’s in God’s Holy Throne and is at peace. I know he has reunited with family members, a few children, and many friends. I know he danced through those pearly gates praising God for bringing him home. I still feel my grandfather’s presence. And I can’t wait to see him again.

Please pray for my grandmother who lost her partner of 68 years. I can’t imagine her pain. Specifically, pray for inner peace and decreased feelings of loneliness.


Rest In Peace Lolo. You are so loved and so missed by all of us here. Heaven is so lucky to have gained you in their presence.
August 7, 1922 – November17, 2011

What would people REALLY know about me?

I’m not sure what tour I was doing, I’m pretty sure I was in Vienna. We were touring one of the palaces, there, I believe Schonbrunn Palace. The tour guide had made a comment on how much they knew about Mozart. It turns out that his father had written a letter during their travels EVERY DAY! So, they knew many things about Mozart, including such specifics as, what Mozart drank or ate that day.

And then our tour guide posed a question. “What would future generations really know about us?”

In my case, not so much. My future grandchildren would see this journal and be quite sad. I don’t seem to chronicle the happy moments of my life. Even if Facebook is still available for them to access, the narrative of my life will still be very choppy. The things that fill up this journal are quotes that remind me of the silly times and a lot of sad moments.

So, I think it’s time to share my blessings.

I just got back from a 10 day trip in Europe. My parents went to a nursing conference and the conference included a tour to Prague, Vienna, Budapest, and Munich. We also stopped by Salzburg and Oberammergau. I also got to go to Dacau.

The cities were absolutely beautiful. Just breathtaking. And as in any trip, I learned a lot about myself. I think it’s interesting that my identity still constantly changes in my 20s, but I suppose it never really stops evolving.

Prague is so lovely. Vienna’s architecture is just breathtaking all around. Munich was interesting, but found myself underwhelmed by it. Budapest was beautiful! I hope to go there someday. I had some really great conversations with my mother when we had lunch by ourselves and I think it posed as a great opportunity to understand one another.

I will try my hardest to chronicle my life better. I don’t seem to be doing a very good job. I can chronicle better with pictures. Maybe that’s how I should chronicle life. :)

memory lane

I despise going through old journal entries. Most of the time, it is absolutely painful to remember how I used to communicate not even two years ago.

But through the ditches, there is a sliver of gold.

And I found one I wrote in 2009. It was a text from my Kuya Marlon.

And it read:
I’m ok here, Ianne.
It’s always raining here, too. There’s a storm here.
Yan, I miss you too.
I love you. Give my regards to your mom and dad.
You be careful there, Ianne.
Your Kuya is here.
-Kuya Marlon

Moving.

Just a quick update.

I am still (full-time) jobless. But I am doing SO MUCH BETTER since my last post. I have been seeing a therapist for the past month and she has helped me reframe my situation. And made me realize not to be so hard on myself.

Life is not back to 100%, but by the grace of God, I am making it day by day. That’s all you can ask for.

Have a blessed week <3

for lack of a better title, being depressed

Last week, I blogged (read here) about being in the deepest pit I’ve ever been in.

I wish I could tell you that things got better after that post. I’m working on getting a therapist.

I have been hesitant to tell my mother. She grew up old school and from Filipino culture. Any sort of mental health is quite taboo in our culture. No one talks about depression.

So I didn’t want to tell her, because I knew she wouldn’t understand.

And when I told her today, she didn’t understand and blamed it on the fact that I was not in nursing school.

I guess I can never escape my “failures”. Four years later and she is still talking about nursing school. I’m no longer ashamed of it. I don’t regret leaving it at all. And that choice has nothing to do with what I’m going through right now. But I can’t tell her that.

I’m not sure what I expected from my mother. She was never the type, even when I grew up, to be there for me emotionally. It was always my dad that fulfilled that role. So when he came back from out of town two weeks ago, I immediately told him. And I’m sure he doesn’t 100% understand. But he has been there for me emotionally since.

It bothers me that my mother thinks she has all the answers and that her opinions should be highly regarded. I don’t want to disrespect her, but her opinions don’t matter to me. I only care about what God wants.

I think it’s interesting that she would tell me stories about how she rebelled against my grandmother, because my grandmother was “always wrong” and now she’s doing the exact same thing. I wonder if I will do that for my future daughter. It feels like an inevitable cycle. But I know it’s not.

Some days are better than others. Today was one of those days. It was hard to get out of bed. It was hard to do anything productive. The only reason I did anything productive was because I HAD to. I couldn’t avoid it.

This is how the conversation went:

Me: Mom. I need to talk to you
Mom: ok
Me: I’m depressed
Mom: You’re a counselor and you’re depressed? That doesn’t make sense
Me: Therapists have therapists, Mom. I wouldn’t be the first one.
Mom: Go out and be with your friends.
Me: oh, this is the same woman who told me two days ago NOT to go out because I’m just wasting gas.
Mom: well, you are.
Me: I need help, Mom.
Mom: Just find a job.
Me: I admit that has something to do with it, but it’s deeper than that.
Mom: Well, if you had listened to me in the first place and stuck with nursing, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be working.

At that point, I just got up and left the room.

I feel like we went backwards. I thought she had progressed. But I guess not. I guess it’s my fault because I expected too much out of her.

She managed to utter words about how she never wanted to be a nurse.

There are many upsetting things about this interaction. But the MOST upsetting thing is that my mom is STILL hung up on me NOT being a nurse. Even though she sees how happy I was after leaving nursing school, she’s still holding that grudge.

I’m at a point in my life where I don’t need my mom to be there for me emotionally. I’m a grown woman. I can take matters into my own hands, even though my disease is trying to trick me into thinking I can’t do anything.

It would just be NICE. To just be held and be told, “I don’t know what’s going on, but you and I will figure it out together.” That would be really great.

I remember seeing an ad at the airport. It said something along the lines of, “You wouldn’t tell someone with AIDS to just shake it off, would you? Depression is a disease.” And it just blew my mind.

And even though I am a therapist myself, I keep trying to convince myself that I can shake it off. But I can’t. That’s not how it works.

I find myself becoming more and more isolated. Even though people call, sometimes, I don’t pick up the phone.

I find myself less motivated. And it’s hard to get out of bed.

Please pray for me.

Heavenly Father, I understand that I am going through this difficult time for a reason. I understand that at the other end of this darkness, I will come out stronger because of YOU. Your light fills my soul and I know You have plans for me and it is in Your perfect sense of time that You will reveal Your plans to me. I ask that You open my mother’s heart and just help her let go of all the pain and sadness and grudges she may be holding on to in her heart. I ask that You help her understand, because I know she looks at me and she has no comprehension on who her daughter is. I ask that You help sort out her confusion. I also ask that You open MY heart into understanding her, because I feel disconnected from her, which is a feeling that is unsettling. Thank You for blessing me with the people who surround me and love me. You are my strength and my comforter. You are my warrior. You are my shield and my sword. Use my body to serve you, Lord. I don’t want to waste another day that you have given me as a gift. I know that the time you have given us in this temporary world is a blip in your eternal radar. I just want to use my time in this world for YOUR glory. So use me and use my story. I love you. The highlight of my day is spending a few minutes talking to you. Give me the strength to face this world a day at a time. In your glorious and precious name, Amen.