Letting the Guilt Go

It's been a year since my grandma passed away. I used to think that it would be easier as time went by. In a way, it is easier. But in every idle moment, certain images still haunt me. Whenever i find the time to stop and think about all the things that have happened, whenever i find the time to reflect, all those painful memories come rushing back. A year has passed and i still feel as lonely. A year has passed and i still feel as guilty as i have been a year ago.

Every now and then our relatives would ask me if I dream about her. They are a superstitious lot, especially the old ones. They believe that dreams are one of the ways that those who have moved on to the afterlife communicate with those who are still living. I do not believe in such nonsense, but to answer their question--- yes, I dream about her. A lot. Not because she's communicating with me, but because she remains in my consciousness. And even at those times when i'm preoccupied i still think about her subconsciously. She's always present in my mind.

On most dreams, we are simply talking, as if she's still alive. And i remember waking up with a smile, and that warm feeling would quickly vanish once i realize that it was all a dream and she's long gone. Several times i dream of the last day she was alive, but i did things differently, things turned out well and i managed to save her life. Everything's fine, and i would wake up feeling so happy. And like most dreams about her, that great feeling that everything is all right with the world would disappear the moment i realize it was just a dream. All those dreams were so surreal, all those dreams were so vivid, i always thought that they were real instead of make believe. But that's just the way my life plays out. It gives me one fleeting moment of happiness, then in an instant it would take it all away and push me back into the darkness where it chooses to keep me.

I had several dreams about here which were so horrible that i wake up shaken and afraid. I never could remember what those dreams were about except for one, which was as vivid as it was disturbing. Again the last day of her life was being played out, but this time it was in an old, gothic, dilapidated hospital, the type of building you'd see in an old creature feature. Cobwebs abound, mysterious eyes shone in the dark, the floors would creak with every step--- stuff you'd usually see in those old horror movies. In this dream my grandpa was still alive, and we had to carry my grandma's body down to the morgue because in that hospital, it was the duty of the deceased patient's loved ones to bring the patient down. As we were carrying her i noticed that she wasn't that heavy. I remembered that i couldn't carry her on my own when she was still alive, but at that time i thought i could carry her easily. With faulty logic I just figured that's just how it is when a person dies, a lot of her weight would disappear. The morgue was filled with lighted candles, and there were a lot of coffins inside. I wanted to hug her for one last time so I pulled back the sheets that were covering her body, and it turned out all that was covered underneath was her spine connected to her head, her intestines, plus a big blob of blood. There wasn't any skin. Blood poured down on the sides of the stretcher, then my grandpa vomited. From out of nowhere my dad came out shouting at me, blaming me for something i could not understand. Then a little boy came out of the darkness, splashing about the pool of blood on the floor. He then reached for her intestines, then started nibbling on it. While he was chewing on her innards, he was looking at me and he was smiling. That was when i woke up.

My life as it is right now is in shambles. The fact that she's gone just makes things so much harder to bear. I never realized it back then, but she used to give me a reason, she used to give me a sense of direction. Now I don't know where i'm headed.I'm like a sailor out at sea, with no specific destination. I have always been lonely. I have always been angry. But not to the extent that i am now. Ever since she passed away all these negative feelings have been magnified. Oftentimes, i just feel like crying for no apparent reason. Not a day goes by when I don't lose my temper. Not a day goes by when i don't want to beat someone up. Whereas before i can easily keep my emotions in check and keep all the anger inside, nowadays i always feel the need to show it. For the past year i have provoked a lot of people into fighting me, just so i could release all the hate inside of me, but so far no one has been stupid enough to fight back. I've know what it's like to beat the hell out of someone who has done you wrong, and it felt so damn good, i have actually been craving for it. The satisfaction it brings is immeasurable. But the opportunity to release all this anger onto another person hasn't presented itself yet, so i have to be content with spending several hours in the gym. Some people think i've suddenly turned into an obsessive compulsive health nut. The truth is, i've been going to the gym frequently to release all this anger. Lifting all those weights and hitting that punching bag again and again is strangely satisfying. I just have to imagine that I'm hitting another person... someone i despise... someone who has done me wrong. And somehow, as i transfer all the pain onto an imaginary being, the pain i feel inside would go away, even for just a fleeting moment.

If she had told me that she was ready to die, maybe it would be easy to let go. But the very last time that i looked into her eyes, i knew that she still wanted to live. By the time that we've managed to get her inside my car, I already knew that i let her down. And with the way i'm living my life right now, i'm letting her down again and again and again. I know i can't let go of her memory, but her memory is entwined with such great feelings of loneliness and guilt, it makes the very act of living so damn difficult. It would be so easy to just give up, especially since i still have no apparent purpose, and i see no compelling reason. I know it's not the sane option, but giving up may be the only way of letting go of the guilt that's continuing to haunt me in this life.

Nines

I've had a number of close encounters with death in my life. Just a slight miscalculation, or one seemingly negligible change in the chain of events could have led to a very different outcome. I have cheated death more than once, and i wonder why it had kept on evading me. The existentialist in me would believe that i still have a purpose, there's still something that i have to do in this life, that's why it just can't let go of me. But the pessimist in me would dismiss such beliefs as hogwash. It's all coincidental. There's no higher power. There's nothing more to it than luck. Nothing but pure, dumb, stupid luck.

When I was 10, i remember floating in outer space. It was such a vivid memory. I felt so serene and at peace, but that feeling didn't last long. Aliens appeared out of nowhere and they began to chase me. No matter where i would hide, they would always find me, and i was so afraid of them. They could catch me any minute and i was sure that they would kill me. I didn't want to die, but that's exactly what's going to happen when they catch me. I couldn't fight them, there were too many of them and they were so strong, running and hiding was my only option. I felt as if my heart was going to explode from all the fatigue. If they didn't kill me, i would die of exhaustion instead... but that would still be the better option. Better than dying in the hands of those space creatures. It lasted for days before i finally escaped. And the visions of outer space and my intergalactic horrors slowly faded, at first merging with reality before disappearing completely. I was bedridden at home for a week before they admitted me to a hospital. Everyone thought that it was just a simple fever, but it turned out i already had meningitis. The doctor said they administered the antibiotics in time. If treatment got delayed for even a day, i probably would have died. I didn't understand all the fancy words i was hearing back then, but i understood that it was serious condition, and i was so thankful that everything turned out right. I was 10, i had so many things to look forward to, i had so many years ahead of me. I was happy to be alive.

I can't exactly remember the reason why i felt so bad at that time, but back when i was around fifteen, i thought my whole world was falling apart. I felt that there was no other choice, i had to escape. On hindsight, i believe it was a combination of multiple superficial and insignificant things that just piled up. To my present self, whatever problems i faced back then were nothing compared to the ones i encounter these days... but back then, things were so different. When you are young, everything is amplified. Nothing is insignificant. Even the littlest things can cause a great amount of pain. That was when i found myself standing on the top floor of our house. After an hour or so of crying, i decided that it was time. There's no other way, all i had to do was jump and it would be over. I stood up, i closed my eyes, and just when i was about to leap forward, a strong gush of wind pushed me back and i fell on the floor. I was a religious person back then, and i saw that as a sign. That I still had to keep on fighting, i still had to keep on living. I still had a purpose. I could almost feel death breathing down my neck, and just like that, i decided against it. I saw something, but in truth there was nothing. I believed that a superior being pushed me back and kept me from making a huge mistake, but in truth it was all coincidental. I was the only one up there on that ledge and no one else. No one prevented me from jumping but myself... back then, i just couldn't see that. It was easier to believe in superstitions. When you are young and you haven't encountered all the different types of shit that life throws at you, it's easier to turn a blind eye. It's easier to pretend and make believe.

It was a few days before Christmas on December 2003 when i fell asleep driving on my way home. I had a number of exams on that week, and i slept for only 2 hours each day. The night before it happened, i didn't sleep at all. I came from my friend's place and i left as soon a we exchanged Christmas presents. The last thing i remembered was i was driving at about 140 km/hr on the highway, and then i woke up with a lot of people surrounding my car. Someone was knocking on the windshield. I looked ahead and saw that I crashed into a parked car and its rear end was totaled. In order to get there from where i was, i had to make a U turn, do a quick right turn and pass by an intersection. I couldn't have possibly done that unconsciously... to be able to make it that far without hitting someone, without crashing into something else was quite impossible. My faith was already wavering that time, and i doubt if some superior being had any hand in it, but i had to admit that what happened was a miracle. My car wasn't damaged as much, and i didn't even have a single scratch on me. Everything about that event was nothing short of a miracle. It's probably dumb luck, but it was really miraculous just the same.

January 2008. That was when my highly publicized accident happened. My car was a total wreck, it burst into flames and nothing could be salvaged from it. It was funny. I could no longer count the times when i went home drunk and still managed to come home in one piece despite the fact that i couldn't remember how exactly i got home when i wake up in the morning.... and on that one time when i just had a few drinks and i wasn't even tipsy, i decide to drive too fast just to get that adrenaline rush and then ---- BAM! Driving on a curved road above the speed limit was a disaster waiting to happen. It was all over the evening news, and the footage can still be seen on Youtube up to this day that my friends continue to bring it up every now and then much to our amusement. I could laugh at it now, and i could poke fun at the fifteen minutes of fame that the incident brought me, but it wasn't funny back then. My life was already a mess back then, as messy as it is now, that if i died back then i wouldn't even care. If there was an afterlife, i'd probably be looking at the wreck, looking at my lifeless, bloody body and i'd most definitely be smiling. Because it's all over. It's finally all over. But I had a friend with me at that time, and that made all the difference. I may not regard my life as much, but to take another life with me as i throw away my own, whether intentionally or not... that's not something i could bear. If i was driving alone, i would have wanted things to turn out differently instead. It would have spared me from all the shit that i had to deal with in the succeeding years. But i wasn't alone, and that's one time that i have to thank my dumb luck. It was one of those rare occasions wherein luck was on my side instead of against me. It wasn't divine intervention. It was just plain luck. Something that happened by chance, something coincidental. To put reason into a non specific chain of events would be over analyzing. But for the sake of argument, if some superior being did keep on saving me all those times, then it must be a superior being with a wicked sense of humor. A being that finds it so amusing to keep me in this rut. I couldn't put much faith in such a being now, can it?

I have cheated death so many times, i often ask myself if there's a reason why. Do i really have a purpose in this life? is there really something that i still have to do? can i really make a difference? With the number of times that i have cheated death, anyone who's even slightly superstitious would probably say yes. Something like that could be seen as strangely logical. If i have some sort of purpose in this life, i am not seeing it. If i have to do it in the future, how many more years do i have to wait? how much longer do i have to languish in this purgatory? I would say that i have touched the lives of a few people. I know of two people who have said that their lives are better because they got to know me. And for some weird reason, someone told me once that i gave her inspiration. In my line of work, i know a number of people who are alive because of me. Either i've directly treated them, or because i was able to help them financially to afford the medications and procedures that they needed. If that's my purpose, then it's not enough. Those things do not happen often enough. I need something like that constantly, i need something that would keep me pushing and fighting continuously. Opportunities that happen sporadically aren't enough. Everyone needs a purpose to go on through life. It may be something that inspires you, it may be something that drives you insane, but either way, it keeps you going. To live a life without purpose would be dull, uneventful. It's like you're not living at all. A life without purpose is a life without meaning. You'd often wish you were just dead because it would seem you're not really living anyway. Your body may be functional, but everything else is just lifeless. It wouldn't make any difference whether you're still alive or already dead.