Endless Replay

Don't you ever wish that you could turn back time? In my thirty years of existence, i have wished for that ability a number of times. To correct past mistakes. To make things better. To make things easier. To avoid all the pain and misery that our past actions have caused. But after some time, I would learn to live with the consequences of my past actions... mistakes, indiscretions, indecision. You could say that my mistakes have made me stronger, they have made me into a better person. You could say that with the help of time, which seems to have to ability to heal most wounds and mitigate all suffering... things have turned out for the best. With time, all the hurt that we have felt and caused in the past wouldn't seem to matter anymore. Eventually, with the help of time, all that would remain would only be a flicker.

For 23 days now, the events that transpired on the 13th day of June has been on endless replay on my mind. Before i go to sleep, when i wake up, when I'm walking alone, when I'm sitting alone, in every idle moment... I keep on remembering. And every day I would wish that i could turn back time, because maybe... just maybe... if I had done things differently, things would be so much different now. Maybe things would still be the way they were. I would still be in my comfort zone, where mostly everything was fine the way it was, where someone was always watching my back, that place where I could afford to be complacent and carefree, where I could afford to take risks because I knew that there was always someone who's supporting me and ready to catch me if ever I would fall. Not a single day would pass by wherein I wouldn't stare into nothing and keep on remembering. I have dissected every moment, every minute, every second, and I just keep seeing opportunities wherein I could have acted differently. And as days would pass by, I just can't help but feel more and more guilty. i can't help but feel that it's somehow my fault.

If I had been more persistent, if I didn't take no for an answer, if I went down on my knees and practically begged her to, maybe I could have brought her to the hospital when things weren't as critical and everything would be just the way it was. When I held her hand for the last time, and it just wouldn't stop shaking... if I only took that as a sign that things were taking their turn for the worst... if I only used my clinical eye and acted like a real doctor to her for the very first time, without any trace of weariness or spite, I could have finally done something to her that mattered. If I didn't leave her alone, even just for a few minutes, maybe I could have been there the very second her heart stopped beating... maybe that would have made the difference. Maybe if i didn't even bother to change clothes, or maybe if i didn't even bother to put her on her wheelchair because it just wouldn't fit through the door of her bedroom... maybe that could have amounted to something. If I called some of our neighbors to help us carry her, if only I drove faster, If I didn't even bother with stubborn pedestrians and stupid traffic rules, maybe we could have gotten to the hospital in time. If only I ran towards the emergency room faster, if only i shouted louder to call the attention of the hospital staff, they could have responded with a greater sense of urgency. If only I wasn't stupid enough to park the car near a post so that we could have brought the stretcher nearer to her side of the car, emergency measures could have probably been administered on time. Or maybe if I just brought her to a better hospital instead, one equipped with better facilities and manned by doctors who have better skills... to the hospital where we have always brought her, she could still be alive by now. I could still be talking to her right now. She could still be back home waiting patiently for the day that I would return.

I know that nothing is certain, and for all i know it could all have been inevitable... but with so many instances wherein i could have acted differently, I can't help but feel that things could have resulted to a much better outcome. I just can't help but think otherwise. All my life I never did enough for her. On the last day of her life, i still didn't do enough. It was as if I didn't care enough. For 30 years, I've had numerous opportunities to change and be a better grandson to her. The thirteenth of June was basically the synopsis of how I treated her for the past 30 years. Always in a rush, with a lot of mistakes... littered with opportunities wherein i could have acted differently but failed to do so... maybe even chose not to do so. She had waited patiently for 30 long years, still I never got to be the grandson that she truly deserved.

I doubt if i could ever learn to live with such a mistake.