True love never dies

(Conclusion)

Theirs was a love from which several couples drew inspiration. Businessman Sonny Siytangco and his wife Deedee, a former press undersecretary, shared a love story that seemed to have all the elements of a happily-ever-after – until cancer changed the plot.

Sonny, a robust American mestizo who was Deedee’s dreamboat till his last breath, was diagnosed with terminal cancer in April last year. Deedee, a newspaperwoman who had coexisted with deadlines most of her life, declared to one and all, including Sonny’s doctors, "In my house, there are no deadlines." Thus, Sonny lived longer than even his doctors expected.

Deedee hardly left Sonny’s side during his final months. Thus, she never enjoyed a full night’s sleep on a flat bed, for she would sleep on an armchair beside Sonny, who could not lie flat on his back at the late stages of his illness.

Before Sonny breathed his last on Nov. 25, 2005, Deedee whisphered into his ear, "I love you, but I know Jesus and Mama Mary love you more." Thus, she is certain that when Sonny went to heaven, "He never looked back."

There is a certain sadness in Deedee’s eyes these days, but you could see there is peace. Sonny left her a love that will last her a lifetime and beyond.

In the following piece, which she shared during a Palm Sunday recollection with Fr. Jerry Orbos sponsored by the Mission Angels, Deedee tells her love story.

I am sharing it with you because I believe that with true love, there will always be an Easter.

I kept the gravity of his condition from Sonny and tried to be upbeat with him. After all, we had the best doctors and his favorite cardiologist, Dr. Luis Habana, was leading the team.

And so many people were storming heaven for him. Why even Mrs. Cory Aquino wrote a special prayer for his healing and brought him to the Pink Sisters. I was advised by his doctors to "hope for the best but prepare for the worst."

After a seven-hour surgery, while he was still in the recovery room, I met with the doctors alone. I asked the children to wait for me inside his room because I wanted to absorb the first shock waves for them. No, I was not brave, I merely wanted to spare them from what I felt was devastating news. I was right.

I was candidly told that it looked very bad, but that his heart and lungs were strong, something we had agonized about before surgery. The cancers were stage four already and he could have died on the operating table. One doctor told me bluntly when I asked, "How long does he have?" "Zero, two months, four, six. I don't think he will last till Christmas...."

How do you receive a verdict like that? What do we do then, I asked. Help him have a quality of life since they would not recommend chemotherapy or radiation anymore. These procedures would not do him any good and he would simply suffer more.

I could not accept that there was no hope for him, no options, and that we would just have to wait until Sonny's systems fail and he would go quietly in the night. Until that time, Sonny had always been the one in charge for all of us, especially of me. He took charge even of my bank account even if my system of accounting drove him crazy.

* * *

I could not let him be discharged from the hospital with no options. He was very hopeful and optimistic after surgery obeying his doctors' orders so I asked them not to close the door to chemotherapy. Let him decide by himself, I asked. If he found it to be difficult, let him also decide to forego it. But it had to be him.

We left the hospital three weeks after the surgery. He was in good spirits at home. He had decided to recuperate at home and without us verbalizing it, to face the future there. Early on, he had a long talk with Dr. Habana on the prospects of recovery and what his wishes were "when the time comes." No life-support systems, no extraordinary measures, Sonny told him.

I dropped out of the world to take care of my beloved. It was a choice I wholeheartedly made. Sonny and I had come to think alike and we could second guess each other on almost everything – trivial or serious about ourselves and our lives. I knew he did not want anyone else to care for him, so I was his caregiver until the time came that he had to be fed intravenously and he needed nurses around the clock. But still I slept beside him, always within his reach as he demanded, so he could hold on to me during those long dark nights of intense pain and yes, fear.

I would tell him during terrible moments, "It's alright, darling, even Jesus wept and was afraid. Let's hold on to him."

* * *

I realized he was dying right before my eyes, although I could not confide this even to our daughter Sandee who was my emotional shield all throughout her Dad's last journey. It was she who had to answer questions from our relatives when I had no answers for them. Thank you Andrew (Sandee’s husband) for being so supportive.

When people tell me how brave and courageous I was, they had no idea what Jesus and Mary did. They were in my corner, and my "seconds" were my four children who in their own ways assisted their Dad home to heaven.

My bachelor sons, David and AJ, who live with us, knew my fear of waking up to find their Dad had slipped away during the night. They tried to keep vigil and they understood, quietly supporting me by doing all they could to keep their Dad company, cheering him up with their man talk when I had to take off every Thursday to tape my show.

I had to behave as normally as I could for him. I had no time for self-pity or even private tears then. Every morning I would open the blinds in the den and allow the sunlight to pour in after looking at my dear one closely. Thank you Lord, he is alive!

Listen, I would tell him in the cheeriest tone I could muster, the love birds are chirping outside and the sunlight is telling us this is a new day with the Lord!

My son Junie in Vancouver would go on the webcam for his Dad to see his apo and, until a few days before he died, he was still accepting and blowing kisses to Ramon IV!

* * *

As he grew weaker, more gaunt and found it harder to even sit or lie down for long, he began sleeping less and less. I would wake up at his slightest touch or movement and oftentimes, we would just pray together, either the rosary or our personal prayers.

He never complained and only once did he ask, "Why is this happening to me?" I had no ready answer except that God sends us suffering for a reason, and that the sufferings of a good man like him must carry more merit than the sufferings of a lukewarm soul.

I remember Fr. Catalino Arevalo texting me that no good is ever wasted on this earth. I am consoled by that.

Once, I found myself asking why God allowed him to suffer so much when there were many others who deserved to suffer. He put his finger on my lips and said, "Take that back, darling. Never, never doubt God!"

The first chemo session was the last for him as the effects were debilitating for him. He decided to forego the next sessions. Wordlessly, he agreed to depend on Jesus through His Mother's intercession alone. He could still take soft food orally and he was able to work with a physical therapist to build up his muscles.

But his intake became less and less, his movements more painful. He lost weight fast dropping from 220 pounds to 170 pounds in the first four months. Loving friends came to pray over him, give him this and that herbal medicine. When he could no longer take in anything by mouth, they opened up a vein on his chest for his feeding tube.

* * *

One evening he took off his wedding ring and said, "Look honey, it's falling off by itself. You have to keep it. I don't want to lose it." True enough, he had grown so thin the ring which was once embedded into his second finger was now slipping off! But so was my wedding ring. I had never taken off my wedding ring which Sonny jokingly referred to as a "bicycle ring" when he bought it after his long trip to India. Then, he was still scared of the responsibilities of settling down to commit to getting married. But when he saw the teeming masses in India, he realized how much he loved me and sent off a telegram right away. (In those days, there were no roaming cell phones yet.)

"Am coming home. Getting you a bicycle ring. Love, Sonny."

That lonely night last October, he gave me his ring, I took off my ring which, too, was already loose because I had lost weight, too. I got a chain he had bought from one of our trips and hung the two rings.

Here, I showed him, two eternity rings, the smaller one inside the bigger one, two hearts, one chain. I will wear it always. He smiled and said, "Thank you. I love you. Don't ever leave me and you must love me always."

In one of our evening talks, he once asked me to call four people, two relatives and two business associates. "I want you to tell them I forgive them for what they did to me and ask them to forgive me, too, for whatever harm I did to them." Then he asked me to forgive him for the occasions he wasn't a good husband. I shushed him and told him,"Sweetheart, you have been the most wonderful husband to me. Whatever hurts came between us, I have forgotten them and I hope you also have forgotten my brattiness and my pride."

We both felt better after that and we prayed the rosary. Prayers really helped Sonny cope with the long and painful journey home to Jesus. Little miracles, too, like the kindness of complete strangers and the compassion and care of relatives and friends helped our journey.

Once when we were praying the rosary before the image of Our Lady of Naju, where we formed the Mission Angels and saw a Eucharistic Miracle, Sonny noticed it was shedding oil. I touched it and yes, it was oil with a sweet scent. Just like the time it shed oil when Sister Julia Kim of Naju visited Sonny in our home on the ridge and prayed over him.

My beloved Sonny died quietly without pain in the early morning of Nov. 25 in the first week of Advent, a season he really loved and looked forward to. In fact, he made me promise to light up our home on the ridge as we do every Christmas season. After All Saints Day, I reported to him that yes, our Christmas lights were up as with our decorations, waiting for him!

In the end, everything that could have medically afflicted to someone who has cancer of the pancreas happened to him, except a painful death. I was told he would die by choking on his own bloody vomit or by other painful ways. My beloved was spared from that, thanks to Mama Mary's love. The evening before he died, he was in full control of his faculties bidding our girls a loud "Good night! Thank you!" after our nightly rosary and the chaplet of the Divine Mercy, around his bed. He prayed "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" with us that night and I truly believe that when he breathed his last, they were there at his bedside to take him home.

I find comfort in the thought that the love I have for him will always be with him in the next life and his love for me, he brought along with him. Now I like being where we were happy together and continuing what he liked to do best.

Yes, I have let him go to God and am moving on, and have let God in my life.

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