Showing posts from February, 2012

CASA San Miguel, San Antonio Zambales

Now that I am beginning to find solace from writing letters to Keith Ashley, I think I can now go back to what this blog is all about. My boy remains constant in my thoughts, but I have now found a way of communicating with him. So here is a lighter entry on this site. The day before we left for London, my sister-in-law took us to one of the most beautiful places I have seen in Zambales - The CASA San Miguel . It is located in the middle of a mango orchard in Pundaquit, San Antonio. Literally, CASA San Miguel is the Centre for Arts in Zambales. It was established some time ago by Sir Coke Bolipata, an acclaimed violinist and was in a Cinemalaya film - Boses. The CASA- This is where Keith Ashley first learned how to play the violin and where he went for his art classes every Sunday. They also do recitals and exhibitions there. The Casa San Miguel from the orchard The Concert Hall where recitals, theatre plays, concerts etc are being held. A pparently, according

That Dream

Last night, I dreamt about Keith Ashley for the first time since he passed away. In my dream, he was this usual silent kid, who smiled at me when I called him. I hugged him from his back, and asked if I could kiss him. He didn't say a word, he just moved his face towards me and I kissed him on his lips- which I usually do to all the kids in the house. Then I hugged him again. And that was it, short but sweet. That dream left me crying my eyes out as early as 6am- until now in fact. Tears never seem to run dry. And that dream made me miss him even more- his footsteps, the way he walks, the way he speaks- everything! I want to dream about him every night, but I don't know if it will make things better or worse. I just want to see him again- alive and happy. Keith was looking forward to today because it is their school's field trip. He was looking forward to seeing Jose Rizal's home in Calamba, Laguna. :( tintin x

In Search of Solace

I am not sure how long will I be writing about my struggle to find solace after the death of our beloved Keith. Some of you may eventually get tired of reading my (depressing) blogs, but this is my one way of trying to cope from the loss of my beloved child. I can only hope that you understand. But perhaps you really won't, unless you are or have been in our shoes. It's now more than three weeks since Keith left us forever, and the wound is still as fresh as when I received the phone call that changed my life forever. At some point I thought I may have accepted that Keith really didn't belong to us. But could I be just in denial? Every single day, I keep asking why. Sometimes I even hear myself asking out loud. At times I want to scream, punch the wall or break something. I know I am angry. But angry at what, with whom? I don't know. All I know is that I am still very much grieving and the pain remains so strong. Possibly, I am also bitter that other kids with Den

Letting Go and Moving On...through "Lighters"

Coming back to England has never been harder. On Tuesday morning as I entered our flat, there was a deafening silence. The room was obviously as we left it when we found out that our baby Keith has left us forever. Don took a picture of the room while I tried to do normal stuff. Somehow Keith kept popping into my head. I was missing him terribly. At the same time, I was thinking about my family. How I wish I could have stayed until we all have moved on. The next thing I knew, Don and I were both crying, hugging each other so tight. Then questions came rushing through my head. Why Keith? Keith was such a good boy. He won't hurt a fly. He looked after everything that God created, even what probabaly killed him. He was God's servant. He read the Bible and prayed more often than most adults I know. He collected prayer books and rosaries as souvenirs when visiting places. He never said a bad word. He respected everyone. Why did our family has to go through the pain and so

Goodbye, My Angel

No wound is ever more painful than losing a child. And as they say, no mother should bury their own child. Unfortunately for me, that is the reality. On January 28, my son passed away unexpectedly. He was 11. I never thought that he would be taken away from us too early. He was a healthy child, full of life and potential. It all started with mumps. He recovered from that, but a few days after, he developed an on and off fever. His mama brought him to different specialists and they all thought that it was an infection, but couldn't point out where the infection was. Then he had test for Dengue, but the results all came back negative. Apart from his fever, his only other complaint was a headache, which to him was bearable. According to my mother and his mama, he didn't show them that he was in any pain. He would even say, "wala po ito, headache lang" (this is nothing, just a headache). On Wednesday the 25th of January, my sister-in-law asked if I could call. I was at