Alone Again (Naturally)

There is this song that reminds me of where I am today — Alone Again (Naturally) by Gilbert O’Sullivan. When I think about my life I can enumerate the number of times I have lived alone. It began when I was 32 and my relationship broke up. From then on I have lived alone — first with my children here, then in San Francisco where we had no maids and we all learned to housekeep on our own. Then, when I was 72, I met Loy Ventura. We fell in love reluctantly at first, because I know I didn’t want to fall in love anymore, was too old for it. But fall in love we did anyway because — I believe — God works His lessons in strange ways.

First, God taught me not to get married at 18 because I could have absolutely no idea of what was facing me. Then He taught me not to get involved with anyone who had a messy life and worked in government because that would be disastrous for my values. Over the 40 years that I remained single and at work, I was very successful proving that I should remain single and working for my happiness. But I also put an end to that.

In the second half of my life after my arbitrary retirement I had a stroke that changed my personality completely. It also taught me not to take the usual post-stroke medicines doctors prescribe. Instead I knitted complicated sweaters that forced me to concentrate and did 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzles. Then God sent me a miracle. A friend introduced me to StemEnhance Ultra. That gave me back my personality and I got going again.

I met Loy. He asked me to marry him. “What for?” I asked.

“So we can enjoy our lives with God’s blessing,” he said. So I agreed. Loy had made me remember my firm belief in God in spite of my major slip-ups. Where before I had stopped going to Mass, now I go to Mass every Sunday and, every time, I just feel like it.

We were immensely happy together. My being single and keeping house for myself for the longest time showed its value. Loy was a wonderful man who had raised his eight children almost singlehandedly. It’s strange but, at some point in our lives, we did TV interviews on being a single mother and he did one on being a single father; but we didn’t meet then.

I began my advertising career in Avellana & Associates, where I kept the friendships formed there. One was with Philip Suzara, a nephew of Totoy Avellana. Once a year for a while we would all drive to Mount Arayat in Pampanga to celebrate the birthday of Chito Bautista, another one who had worked with us. On our last trip over I told Philip, “I remembered that once I wanted to be a torch singer. Now I’m taking voice lessons.”

“I have a lawyer friend who lives near you. He loves to sing,” Philip said. I thought nothing of it.

One day Philip calls. “I’ll pick you up at six and take you to my lawyer friend’s place.” I didn’t want to go but Philip insisted. So I went. That’s how I met Loy. “Your PR girl at Avellana & Associates was a friend of my wife,” he said. “Once we were there she told me, ‘You must meet the woman whose office is across from mine. She’s pretty and intelligent. You will like her. Her nickname is Tweetums.’ I thought you had an interesting, different nickname. When Philip mentioned you, I told him to bring you over so I could meet you.” That’s how we met.

Now Loy is gone and there are times when grief overcomes me and I weep alone. I sort out his clothes deciding what to keep and what to give away. I wear black, as I am grieving deeply and I will continue to wear it until I fully adjust to my new life again. His hospital bed is still in the dining room. His daughter wants to keep it but it needs to be disassembled first. That’s being attended to by his son. I hope it happens soon because I cannot bear the sight of it. It reminds me of his last two weeks when he lost consciousness, wouldn’t eat or drink, was hydrated intravenously and had to take oxygen — not to make him breathe better, but to control the quality of the air he breathed. He lost so much weight I could hold his arm in the circle of my thumb and middle finger. For so many months I had been praying for help.

Now that’s when the words of the song hit me: But as if to knock me down
reality came around and without so much as a mere touch cut me into little pieces… In my hour of need I truly am indeed — alone again, naturally!

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