seven meters of misery
82
storm a-brewing
I heard about the typhoon Ondoy (Ketsana) heading over to the Metro while in a cab, on my way to meeting a friend in Malate, a popular melting pot for creatures wanting to celebrate the end of the workweek. Naturally enough, the driver incessantly talked about the impending storm as he listened to news broadcasts over the radio - like how scattered rainshowers all throughout the day had already slowed down traffic everywhere, and that he had been picky with passengers - while I thought of cancelling the nightout as outside was hardly the perfect condition for wining and dining and wining. Though we didn't have a hard time getting to our destination, I still gave the driver extra knowing full well that all his whining and griping were meant to make me grateful for his saying "yes" to me in the first place.
I was craving for grease on my lips and so we found ourselves in TGIF. Besides, it was a Friday. The smoking area opens to the streets and so the talk between my friend and I, after all the grub was consumed, gravitated towards people scampering in the rain amidst the absence of public transport. The rains were not torrential, not even heavy but enough to drench your killer attire and douse any hardened party animal spirit. We then decided to head on over to Starbucks which was teeming with what appeared to be stranded commuters waiting for some letup in the dismaying weather. But the weather was in no mood to be unpredictable that night as rains continuously and consistently poured in varying degrees of moderate patter. After a satisfying grande of soy latte and lots of pleasant tête-à-tête, we made our way to the heart of the district hopeful that, finally, we'd have ourselves some action which was still the object of our quest despite the soggy state of affairs everywhere we look and turn.
Minutes after settling down on the porch of a speakeasy, the rains began to pour. Seriously this time. While my friend had mojitos, I decided it was not a night for alcohol and would call it a night as soon as the rains slighly abate. We parted ways um four hours later.
I trudged into my room at around 6am. It was already Saturday, the 26th of September, and everything's humdrum in our household. Yes, it was supposedly a stormy day but we have witnessed more swashbuckling winds and menacing rains. I turned on my PC, checked my mails and logged on to HubPages. I was nearing 100,000 views and realized my first birthday on the site was also just a couple of breaths away. I was putting together a memoir-ish hub in my head to celebrate these two would-be milestones. A killer hub was on the way. Thinking about it now, I am sure I slept with a smile plastered on my face. How could I not when it was a wonderful weather for sleep and dreaming. But the weather went back to its business of being fickle while I dozed off and apparently had other things in mind.
my darkest hour
I initially thought I was only on my 36th wink when my sister pulled me back from lalaland. I looked at my watch. I had slept for four hours and thought it's probably lunch time and everybody was waiting for me downstairs (weekends are when everybody's home). It was indeed lunch time but my sister was on another mission. Water from the river had breached our street and she told me to start moving things from downstairs to the second floor. I looked out my window and saw several people, probably neighbors, in panic mode, wading in knee-deep flood water. Now we are no neophytes as far as floods are concerned. Over the years, we've plowed through various depths and were in fact not traumatized by the six-footer monster that came our way more than a decade ago. You can say we went all through them storms and floods swimmingly. So, unlike the panic button-hitting people around us, we were calm but still calculating. Alert but not panicky. Everything we did were for good measure. Unfortunately, we so busied ourselves determining which things were amphibious enough to survive being submerged in water that we somehow forgot to throw a sneaky eye on the dark water outside.
Faster that we can say "one, two, three LIFT" or "one, two, three PULL", flood water touched base. It was suddenly calf-deep in our house and waist-deep outside. The first few neighbors arrived to take refuge on our second floor. As was the drill, we let them in and up with everything they managed to bring with them from their houses. We were nearly done putting nonsubmersibles atop tables, cabinets, beds when the second wave of neighbors turned up with accounts of the watery hell that's still gathering might by the minute. That's when my family unknowingly lost grasp of our collective Boy Scout mentality.
Hours that seemed like seconds passed and I was in the company of a woman who had just given birth to the baby she was nursing, and three other families. We were on the second floor of our house, on the terrace, helpless spectators all of the hissing, gurgling, swirling and rising murky brown water. Children were crying and the adults either prayed or reassured the children, and themselves, that, surely, the water will rise not higher than, say, six feet. My niece, who is in her early teens and therefore was not even a speck of thought when we battled with the six-footer monster previously, broke down when she saw the wall at our backyard crumble down. She became hysterical and carried on convincing my sister, her mother, to brave the already chest-deep water and seek higher ground elsewhere. My sister relented as I think sometimes maternal instincts are irrational. With only her children's safety on her mind, she, along with my brother-in-law and her two children, took off despite our pleas for them to stay put. I saw them being slapped by the current-driven water as they made their way across the street. I was on the terrace witnessing the whole thing with a blank mind until thoughst of death crossed my mind. And it stayed there for a visit.
My sister and her brood had no choice but to return to our house. They were assisted by a stranger who submitted himself into a random act of kindness and daring. The flood continued escalating as the water unremittingly engaged in finishing off the last vestiges of hope we had remaining. When the water started lapping up the space below the roof of our neighbor's house from across the street, we thought of escaping, again. First we tried to destroy the windows at the back of our house in order to climb to the roof. But the windows remained stolid. Then deliverance came in the form of our next door neighbor's pink house which has three floors.
Blankets were gathered and tied together to form lifelines from our terrace to theirs. With the ends of the blankets secured on the railings of both terraces, and with the assistance of our neighbor's helper, one by one we made the precarious tightrope act. And the first to go was my 79-year old mother who said later that she had to go first to show my hesitant and then less hysterical niece that if her grandmother can do it, she certainly can.
While I was waiting for my turn to get to the other side, I went back to my room and decided to let go. To let go of every possession that my room held and not anymore push, pull, lift, cover things to save them from drowning. My dog Coco had to be left behind too, on the terrace, as I gathered no dogs were brought by the other evacuees to our neighbor's place and I am nobody special. If there's one thing about catastrophes on a massive scale is that everybody's equal in its eyes. It's like God in a way. And like any defeated man, I can only be fatalistic.
Our neighbor's roof deck only has two rooms and the rest is open space. Naturally, they were reserved for the children and older women. The rest had to either take shelter under a makeshift roof or stay out in the rain. I stayed out in the rain with my mind going back and forth to some spam email I read heralding the end of the world. That, or eyeing the tree fronting our house. It was to be my Plan C.
In the gloaming, only a quarter of our our house is remaining. Our terrace is gone.. Where is Coco? People are on their roofs. Houses are carried away by the river behind me, with some bearing people heading to God knows where. I see the tree in front of our house standing its ground. Gone are the birds. But still, it's the goal of what was going to be my last ditch effort at salvation. My sister gives me half of her biscuit.
People come up to me, in my place above a chicken coop, and start conversations. I do not know them personally but might have seen them sometime before as I assume they live in the shanties in the periphery, on the edge of the streets, behind well-built houses. I think of the hubber franciaonline. I must tell her that my empathy for those who have less materially, I realize, is built on romance. Their open faces, optimism in the face of tragedy, and sense of community are humbling. I will admit to her that most of the time, when it comes to issues close to her, my heart is not where my mouth is.
I become nostalgic whenever children are allowed by their parents to play with flashlights for I remember the time, thousands of years ago, that it fascinated me. Pointing in every dark place and hoping to behold a thing of wonder or fright. I wish I was a child, no worries, no nostalgia for things gone, going and will be gone.
Darkness falls at last. I can no longer make out things from the silhouettes they form. But I can see the familliar things that the water and darkness conceal even with my eyes closed. I am pretending to be asleep and hoping that my tears are mistaken for droplets of rain.
the requiem
Knee-deep mud confronted us outside when most of the water subsided. Dawn was breaking and flood-swept objects abounded. The air was heavy with stench that's almost palpable you can part it with your hands. We made it back to our house after I scrambled up our terrace, down the stairs and pushed the bar and bar stools that rammed into each and somehow settled behind the door making it impossible to open from the outside. I felt something snap in my back as I pushed against these furniture using both my feet, with my back against the wall. Once we were all inside, an eerie silence set in that muffled the sound of children's voices outside who were poking at things wishing they were somebody's toys. I slipped into my room and surveyed what was left. Nothing was spared. I just sat there for a long time, only coming to when a little girl shrieked upon learning that what she thought was a stuffed toy was actually a dead dog. So we all survived the flood. Even our dog Coco did. Apparently, she managed to get inside our house, into my sister's room and found dry land atop her bed. The cushion might have floated in the water.
We had no electricity. The phone line was (still is) dead. Water from the tap was brown. Everything was wet or muddied or both. There was no place to lie down. No food to eat. No nothing. Only time to wallow in misery.
The days that followed that fateful night were spent cleaning, discarding things, eating instant noodles and sardines from reliefs, and searching for batteries, candles, and rainboots in every store we went to. Unfortunately, most stores remained closed for a long time. Nighttime was a depressing affair as smell of decay was stronger and no activity was possible. I spent these moments building a new house in my mind. Or realizing the true value of things that I no longer have - photographs, letters, books, underwear.
because things could still get worse...
...they did. A week after the flood, I lost my dog. Coco's house at our backyard was no more and so I put her on a leash and made her a makeshift shelter beside our house. We cannot let her inside the house as endless cleaning was underway and my mother complains of her labrador "stink". The day before we discovered her gone, I was even happy to notice an improvement in her appetite as she was mostly glum days after the flood. Anyway, all that were left were her leash and trails of paw prints. The first trail led to where her house was supposed to be and the other disappeared into the open space that came to be when the backyard wall collapsed.
Last Sunday, the 11th of October, my sister was rushed to a hospital in another city. All the hospitals in our city were full and "new" patients had to wait in line. She had been complaining of body aches and recurrent fever and was suddenly looking ghastly. I was informed later that she had contracted leptospirosis. And as if fate and time conspired to guide me to my doom, I heard the bad news as I was witnessing a group of men killing a dog in a vacant lot while nuns were distributing food and clothes to shirtless children and their barefoot mothers nearby. At that point, death crossed my mind again. Coco's, by that same group of men, my sister's, by the disease, and mine, in the shape of my own hands. I have no idea what could have happened to me had I not called a close friend and broke down to let it all out.
if misery had a face
Three weeks had passed and not much have changed. Yes, I have clean clothes, I can go online thanks to my sister who lends me her laptop once in a while, there's electricity and my other sister had been discharged by her doctors. But the house is still a skeleton of what it was before and the mounds of garbage and filth right outside our door still remind me of what we had and have lost. Looking back, I'm certain I was contented with my life and not in want of greater things. But how do you begin again when you don't even have the simple things?
.
thank you for being a friend
You know who you are, my "virtual" and "real-life" friends. Your support, concern and bits of counseling made it possible for me to soldier on and find the will to write this. I had no desire to go back to that night and relive everything but I realized that ghosts would not be as they are if they had a place to go.
Again, my eternal gratitude to you all. Your names shall remain imprinted in my heart.
and by the way...
As I was writing this, I heard on the news that a new storm has entered the Philippine area of responsibility and that it could become a "super typhoon". Moreover, the typhoon's (Ramil) international name is "Lupit" which, in Filipino, literally translates to "ruthlessness". All I can say about it is that I just did high water, I could probably take on hell itself.
.
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Comments
Oh Cris, we all were so worried about you and were enquiring till one of the hubbers (forgot her name) mentioned that you managed to borrow a laptop and reply to her that you're RELATIVELY ok! Man! This is a tragedy and what's more painful is that people really lost their lives (God rest thier souls). Good thing you're fine along with your family. Everything can be compensated except lives.
Terribly sorry for all that you lost but what an adventure, as if you needed more material for your stories. Material things can be replaced over time, thankfully you and your family are safe. Don't let your guard down. I'm sure you know that desperate times make people do desperate acts. Stay safe Cris!
Hoping and praying that you do not have to "take on hell itself." So happy to hear that your sister is recovering.
Not to compare with your losses...but my parents once had about 3 feet of water in their home after Hurricane Beulah and the home needed rebuilding and many possessions were lost. THE MOST IMPORTANT thing are the people in one's life...not the possessions as you are learning the hard way. The possessions (except for photos and some things like that which are irreplaceable) can be acquired again over time.
I truly felt your pain and horror of what was happening in this hub. Excellent writing!
A tragedy like this really puts life in perspective. May God bless you and everyone that suffered a similar fate in the days ahead.
Cris, you have your blockbuster hub. The difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug; you have found them all. I am so sorry about your dog. Possessions are not important when you are in such dire straights, but I understand as I have gone through losing my own things in fire before. I so hope your sister recovers soon. I am so glad you summoned the courage to tell this remarkable story of courage and fortitude of yourself and your family. God bless. And thanks for sharing. You mother is a treasure. CC
I'm so sorry for your tragic loss. My heart is with you and your family in your recovery.
OMG...I sit here in tears my dear and praying hard for you, you are ever so strong and wonderful and as hard as this may have been to compose, it is probably one good thing you did for yourself...God be with you and yours...and I am also sorry about your dog, and praying for your sister,I LOVE YOU...MOREEEEE Cris...:O) Hugs G-Ma
@sheila
It was my sis who took the pictures. I think she needed them for some calamity-related loans or whatever. Thanks for dropping by, on a Sunday, wait make that Monday, yet!
@shamel
Yeah, I have heard of people in our area who died during and after (mostly of leptospirosis) the flood. Thanks for the comforting words, I appreciate them my friend.
@richard
I know, but it still is a hard pill to swallow. Thanks for reading and commiserating. Your words mean a lot to me.
@Peggy
You've a point, I just might delete that part! Ha-ha Thanks for the words of wisdom, I shall take comfort in what you said.
@charlie
Which reminds me, Titanic (the movie) was a blockbuster, right? :LOL Thanks for the wonderful comments C., you know how much your words mean to me. She is a treasure and seems to have Benjamin Button's curse (or blessing).
@Cailin
Thanks for the support. In times like this, I need all I can get.
G-Ma
Now that avatar brings a smile to my face. And I sure need it after being drained writing this. Thanks for expressing your love and care always, as they make me realize that life is still good despite. Lurve you "most bestest" (ha! you can't beat that!) :D
Well your email told me some of this - but to see the photos is just shocking. That your street has become a strange place to you is hard to grasp. The big possessions are one thing (TVs, cars etc) but the loss of personal possessions can be a threat to memory and emotions (photos, letters) - it is for this reason that you are right to talk about this experience with your "real" friends and family there with you and with your "virtual" friends here on the internet.
I'm very sorry about Coco.
Geez, Cris A. I'm so sorry about your ordeal. Your pics say it all. My thoughts and prayers were with you. Your resiliency in the ultimate face of adversity is admirable to say the least. A heartfelt thank you for sharing this with all of us my friend.
I was so nervous to read this--eagerly I read and was wondering if something was salvageable; then I seen the pictures...then the news of Coco; then your sister. I am happy that you shared this with us; all the more for us learn from your ordeal and lesson in adversity, to remain positive about the many things that often worry us all. Again, without realizing, that there is so much more important that material possessions, and that is being able to remain hopeful, have good friends and family around you. That is what really matters. I wish your sister well, your family and neighbors--and take care of yourself as well.
-hugs-
Cris, This is incredible, and awful, and scary, and brave-as-hell of you to put into words and share with the world. Man, I know!
As I was reading I kept thinking, "Holy shit, this needs to be published internationally," but wait, you just did! You KNOW I'll be sending this link to family and friends as soon as I hit "Post Comment."
Good for you, Sir Cris.
Wow Chris, this is so beautifully written! Our own ordeal was nothing compared to what you and your family went through. I have been trying to write about lessons I learned from that flood but I could not finish my piece.
I know it will take a while before we can all recover from that disaster. I certainly hope and pray that the next impending typhoon will spare us.
God bless!
Cris, this is a great hub, and I'm sorry for your sufferings, which made it real. If there's anything we can do for you from here, I believe the offer's still on. We don't mind doing a share thing.
My eyes got wet as I read about this horrific experience. Its one thing reading about it in the news and another hearing about it from a hubber and feeling all the emotions of fear, loss, surrender and courage that you shared; its different, it becomes more personal.
You will never be the same, like the phoenix you will continue rise from the ashes. I admire you courage.
Thank you for sharing, much love to you and your family!
Sorry to hear about your troubles - that must have been a horrific and frightening experience. The rebuilding process will be long and hard, but people it sounds like you have a strong and resourceful community. It is sad to lose a treasured companion, like Coco :(
I will lay a few flowers on the shrine of your beloved Afrodite - hopefully she will send some blessings your way. :)
Our thoughts are with you.
Cris, I don't know what to say, gave me a lump in my throat and brought tears because I know what it is to start over and to lose everything.
Take it from an old lady of 60, this, like many traumas in life it will give you a set of perspectives that all the books and money in the world can't -- in the end years from now when you look back you'll see how much it both tested and strengthened you.
Your great talent, especially in the department of poetry already shows someone of sensitivity and compassion. I know it's a bitter pill to swallow now, but have no doubt you'll be one to rise far above such a disaster. Use that to your advantage.
Wow. Everyone needs to read this. I have a little plaster falling down and I was feeling sorry for myself.
I knew it. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to ask. It was so clear, to me anyway, in the last piece you wrote. I am so sorry. I think about things like this all the time. I'm terrified that someone I love so much from our virtual world here will suffer and that there will be nothing I can do to help. Thank you so much for sharing this with us, and hopefully it did help to ease things a bit. Not that it helps any, maybe it does in some way, but I'm here sad as can be, angry as can be, hoping for the best, hoping you know how very much so millions of miles away you are so fondly thought of and what a diference you make and will make always, and I thank you for that.
Thanks for sharing these experiences and perspectives, Cris - and everything Am I dead, yet? said. Take good care of yourself and yours.
Cris: If there is anything we can do to help, such as electronics, new linens, mats, vitamins, creams for skin rash (I have a case from our health business) etc, etc.. and more etc... please post an address where hubbers can send it to. Perhaps someone in your community can use what you may not be able to utilize. Whatever you decide is best in your situation. ;)
I admire your courage and honesty. You are speaking for all who went through the hell on earth you and your loved ones experienced. Sorry about your dog.
Damn.
Cris, It's all been said above...remember you are loved. You are a very special person. I have willingly walked away from everything I owned in the past, but never had it taken from me. You have what it takes to rebuild your life and you will remain in my prayers.
Take advantage of what Violet suggests, if not for yourself, then for the others in your neighborhood.
Of course, unimaginable. We were all relieved when you 'surfaced'. Thanks for telling us what happened. You will remain in our thoughts, Cris
OMG, Chris. So sorry abut all this.My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family and all your community. Be brave. When this nigthmare passess by, and it will, you will be ready for the new beginning.
So many people on this world have to build up their lives again, almost from nothing, due to the various individual or natural disasters, wars (what I experenced in my country)etc. You will do it, as well. You CAN do it.
A lots of Love and Hugs.
I wish that new tiphoon you mentioned, does not touch your life at all.
Heartness to you Cris. I hope ruthlessness amounts to a trickle with no destruction.
I've got goose flesh from reading this, Chris. I'm glad you and are your family are safe, and I'm really sorry to hear about Coco. I can't think of any platitudes that you haven't already heard...but keep your spirits up...there is sunshine after the rain. :)
The harsh reality of your situation must at times be unbearable, I send my breath of strength along with everyone else here in hope that it boosts your endurance while you rebuild your home and your life.
Your Mother is a woman of substance, courageous, strong.
I echo VioletSuns words and would be happy to post a parcel of supplies.
@julie
I was hesitant to share the photos at first, as they, or this hub, might be misinterpreted. But I guess words can only express as much.
@dohn
Sharing a story as intimate or personal as this with good friends can only do me good.
@sandy
There's nothing I wouldn't share with you my friend as you always find the words to make things better. Thanks for always being there.
@Ron
Now I know now what you know. And I'm seeing you in a whole new light. My hat's off to you. Thanks, good sir for pushing the um stimulus (for lack of a better word)
@jill
But I still think you should share your story as well. The lessons that we learn that are more important than the weight of the story on paper.
@paradise7
Thanks for the offer, the thought of your kindness is as good as any assistance in some other form.
@marie
You are right, perhaps this event should trigger a change for the better. And change is always good for such is the nature of life - to movement and transformation.
@sufi
Make it narcissus if you will. I heard that's her favourite flower of all.
@Jerilee
Thanks for the the valuable insights and perspectives. I trust older ladies like yourself (and Miss Ginn), nobody is as wise.
@nicomp
but we see and react to things differently. I couldn't claim that my tragedy is bigger than anybody else's. but i think i know what you meant. thanks for reading and commenting.
@frieda
I guess we are given our own individual trials and tribulations. And it's not the similarities or differences that matter but how we come out of it. Thanks for the hub lurve my friend. I think I can feel it across the distance.
@Zollstock
I will if your promise you would, too!
@marie
Your commiserations are enough my friend. And yes, whatever turns out to be surpluses or extras we share. The sense of community among the people here has really surprised me. I think I should come out of my room more often as I'm missing out on knowing some nice people. But I'll think about what you said.
@J
yeah, sh*t happens!
@k@ri
Thanks for the lurve and prayers. I know I can always rely on you for support.
@Tom
I'll surface and soar again! Thanks for the encouragement.
@Tatjana
What you said is very inspiring, I shall keep you in mind as I rise again from murky depths. Thanks.
@Jewels
I hope so, too. Might try to learn how to sundance!
@FP
She was the gentlest dog I ever had - except for when she's being playful! Sheesh, I shouldn't talk about her. I hate feeling all choke up!
@Pearl
Thanks for the kind words for it only proves my belief right that real friends exist online.
everyone,
Thanks again for the support, concern and love you have been showering me with. Your words have helped me see past the gloom and into signs of light of life. So thanks, you are all wonderful and are a blessing. :D
Terrible experience and amazing piece of writing! I really wish that everything will get better from now on. Tragedies have a way of "cleansing" and putting back in life everyone who is involved. Of course when you 're going through something like that is really difficult to see this. I wish all the best for you and the people of Philippines.
Cris A, I think your tragedy is important to us all and I thank you for sharing it. It truly does put things in perspective.
I'm a little lost for words. And thoughts. I can't begin to imagine the nightmare - even with the pictures that evidence the after effects, the devastation.
Nature can be a cruel force. Other times so wonderful.
Your mother sounds a blessing. I wish your sister her health. And for you, a day that brings a smile to your heart when you think of Coco - instead of pain.
Cris my friend...your poetic heart even shines through tragedy. You are an amazing human being....I am so thankful you're OK. Blessings and prayers for you and family. LYM.
Took me a while to post a comment here after reading, I simply shudder to think... I've just had one face-up with critical disaster, when my roof collapsedat home. Seems like a joke of a nada when one sees this massive disaster. BESOS, I'm glad you're fine and in one piece!
Cris, my heart goes out to you, your family and to all our Filipino brothers and sisters. Every time I hear the news about a new super typhoon coming, can't help but kneel down and pray. I get scared too for you guys there...for all of us. But I'm so glad you are okay. Much love and light.
@Cherry
You're right, day follows night.
@nicomp
I couldn't agree more, ie seeing things in perspective.
@FD
As they say, not everyday is Christmas day. We do have to take the good with the bad. Life has a funny way of teaching us leassons.
@Tom
At least I have a spark that didn't snuff during the heavy rains. Thanks for the kind thoughts. LYM!
@Elena
ah well, we all have crosses to bear. but having friends does make the load easier to bear.
@michelle
Thanks for the beam of love and light, you are truly an angel.
Cris, without a word or even any reference to our government's disaster preparedness program, your effort to survive the flood says it all: Metro Manila has no working Disaster Preparedness Program. Very sad indeed! Let's thank God that you and your family and all of us are well. It's good to know that your sister has recovered from leptospirosis. There are still many cases of this disease right now. Many have died. The NGO community is asking for medical missions from whichever sector has the capacity to do so. People should live after the flood!
I'm so touched by that part of your hub where you mentioned me and the issues that are close to my heart and your new set of eyes in viewing the poor's optimism in the face of tragedy and their sense of community. Thank you, my friend, for sharing your insights.
Think nothing of it. I simply reminded you who and what you are. All my friends are Nobility. Could I stand by and allow you to be anything less?
Oh my, dear friend we were all so concerned about your welfare. Mother-Nature has a way of making us realize what is important in life. The material things that we all think important can all be replaced.
You showed a key factor in this episode of life---(your 79 year old mother led the way) sweetie her strength flows in your veins too and we all know that it will make you and others that have been knocked down ----get up---stand tall and be the wiser from it all. "give her a warm hug for me."
Let me remind you---I have always said that you have a great talent with WORDS, now each one of those words that you put into your beautiful poetry will have a DEEPER MEANING and I'm looking forward to seeing them.
Cris: Okay, will keep you and your family in my positive thoughts and prayers. One day you will write a hub about your beautiful rebuilt home and neighborhood and the new memories.
BDW, your Mom rocks!
We all love you Cris!
Chris,
I'll write the lessons. I'll eventually get there soon. My subconscious is just not cooperating. At the moment, I just felt like writing about something I love and enjoy. Thus my first hub after the flood is on photography.
God bless!
it was only two days after (i was working double-GY-shifts and lost track of time) when i came across YouTube videos of the flood (again while checking work-related emails grrrrr). then i watched TV. you were first among the list of persons i worried about. i remember "missed calling" you but you could not be reached. then i got lost again for follow-through. i shudder to think how you must have felt at that time but i am so grateful that you and your family are ok. thank you for this hub, though i'd rather be there, listening to you talk about this over coffee and your "yosi"... stay safe, please please
Oh Cris - just reading about it is so heart-rending. I know you've been through so much and yet, it's as though your smile shines through. Here's to things getting back to normal very soon - you have all our prayers with you.
@france
theories need application, otherwise they're just words you convince yourself to believe in and that's a meaningless endeavour. This 360 degree turn in my life is something I wish was just a nightmare but things happen for a reason and that I just have to look deeper. thanks my good friend for dropping by.
@Ron
Okay, so thanks for reminding me. I think I know the answer to that! Ha!
@Ginn
Yes my views on life have been altered and I hope for the better. This is one-life changing experiences that paved the way for a lot of introspection - not just about myself but fir the things around me. And yeah, I guess I have to thank my mother for the genes.
@marie
Thanks, that's very comforting. LOL I'd tell her - but she's been the "toast" of her circle of friends and it might get in her head!
@tatjana
Thanks, I'm feeling it.
@jill
It will come to you when everything's ready including yourself. Thanks again for dropping by.
@swani
Well, this is a pleasant surprise! Swani, you are one of those people I know I'd stay connected with despite great distances and silences. And I didn't mean to have you worried sick. Make that Christmas visit!
@shalini
All these comments have been making me smile and I'm thankful for that. And thanks for the prayers, too!
You have no idea how great it is to see your name on Hubtivity again :)
And I couldn't be gladder - like it's a proof that I actually survived high water and would no longer be a subject on the forum thread "how do you know a hubber has moved on to the afterlife?" (or something like that) LOL
Thanks, I'm feeling it.
Cris! I'm really glad you, your sister, your family and even your neighbors are alive. Thank God for third floors. Sorry to hear about your dog though. Hope you're finally getting your life (and things?) back on track. Here's hoping it will never happen to you again but if it does (knock on wood, three times), I'm sure you'll rise above it, just as you rose above this typhoon and its devastation. Stay dry =).
Wow, quite the experience. I am so grateful that you all made it through..sorry to hear of Coco..
I just have to say, your glow seems to permeate through all that has happened and you are truly inspiring to me with how gracefully you appear to be striding through!! Love and light!
Thank God for sparing your life. God indeed has a way of keeping his own.
just spotted this, so very sorry, i think everything has already been said
@TN
thanks for dropping a line :D
@emie
And I'm glad this hub is about of the way - it felt good after I shared it. We'll see...but so far no dark rain clouds in sight.
@invictus
It's an experience of a lifetime that I wouldn't want to wish to be experienced by anybody, not even my worst enemy (if i have one). Yep, I keep walking.
@Philipo
Apparently He has other plans for me. I wonder what could they be...hmm...
@brenda
You're right. And I didn't think support and concern could be said in many different words. And sometimes, no words at all.
Cris, this is so devastating. It's amazing that you had the courage to write it all down...somewhat of catharsis I guess.
So glad your family made it through and sorry about Coco. My thoughts and prayers are with you all as you try to rebuild your lives.
alek
thanks for the kind thoughts. words like yours are what make it more bearable. :D
Cris, this is an important testament, I believe, about the enduring human spirit, the value of so many things important and a revelation of things unimportant. I'm so very sorry that you and your loved ones and neighbors had this happen. But I'm so glad that someone as eloquent as you could live to write about it. Hoping that things continue to improve rather than degrade. Sending all best wishes.
My friend: Wow. The devastation...the heartache. I know this was difficult for you to write but hopefully it did help with a catharsis of some merit. Told with insight and feeling as only you can write it. Stunning.
@Daniel
yes we endure and hope to resurface again, if not the same person hopefully a better man. i guess natural calamities are a part of life and we have to deal with it as we are all part of nature - for better or worse. thanks for dropping by, i appreciate the sentiments.
@Chris
Yeah, I have to take it all in stride as there are no other options - there is but I'm no quitter, just a slow starter I guess and dweller on things tragic. But I will move on eventually. Thanks for reading and commenting my friend.
I know it is difficult to cope with such situation.
May God give you strength and courage to face the situation
May God bless you
jacob
I appreciate your kind words, thanks. And may you be blessed too always :D
Cris,
I apologize, I really do not know what to say. I am sorry that you had to experience all of that. I hope you know that you are in my family's thoughts and prayers. I am grateful that you are still with us. I am sorry for your losses.Yes, you can start over even without the basics.(trust me on that)As it rains here tonight, I focus on sunny sky's for you my friend.
A piece of your reality is now embedded in all of us. You have courage and strength to be able to write about this.
i knew you'd get hit by the floods, every resident of manila knows that marikina (ur area) gets it every time but never this bad. somehow i knew you would never let it beat you. so sorry about coco, i know you love that lab very much. and its good to hear your sister recovered, i wept over your humongous book and cd collection. soooo glad to see you back here. im posting this hub in all my pages so that i can share your brilliance with everyone i know online, because through this ugly tragedy, your thoughts and words remain beautiful. God bless you and your family
Hi Cris,
hope this message finds you safe and sound.
May God bless you ,and build you up higher than before....
I'm so glad I came across this hub today, it is beautifully written! I'm so sorry for all your loss. Like many others commenting before me, I felt a lump in my throat and I tear in my eyes. I hope that once your life gets back on track you'll be able to find some positives to take from this tragic event because that's what will make you stronger. My thoughts are with you all! Keep safe!
Waiting for your update, Chris, so glad that Ramil went away from your area.
@Whikat
I'm glad to see you again, my friend. I apologize, too if this hub is not extactly the ideal hub for a pleasant catching up. Thanks for the sunny thoughts. I appreciate them.
@eonsaway
yes, it did took a lot out of me but I guess it had to be written. So thanks for reading.
@buddy
And I appreciate that you had my name included in the missing persons list right after the floods - your action runs deeper than just being concerned. So thanks - though I must admit I had to laugh the first time I heard about it. Yeah, no more books that I collected when I was in college and no more Coco but I still can write about them, can I?
@Benson
I'm safe, I'm sound, I'm online - what more can I ask for. Thanks!
@SC
I hope we have the same plans for me! Hahaha Thanks.
@jen
Thanks for the words of encouragement, I appreciate them and will keep them in mind. Thanks for reading and commenting.
@Tatjana
Well a couple of days ago, the mountains of garbage and mud have been removed - you can actually see the pavement again! No heavy rains thus far and yeah Ramil stayed away. Thanks for asking.
Without garbage and mud-mountains world looks better, for sure... I am glad that you are OK...and believe very busy with actions of restoring your home... I also hope you feel better now.
Love and hugs.
It sure looks better and yes, I feel better. Thanks for keeping an eye on me! Hahaha Peace :D
sheenarobins says:
5 weeks ago
Hey you! What a hub! I know it's tragedy, nevertheless, I am impressed with ...of course...as usual the way you write. And yeah, I was waiting for you to write something about it. Nice shot! I mean the pictures with the arrows...hehehe