Non Proprius: Cloud Sustenance Doesn't Sound Right

Feeling not dissimilar as when this photo was taken.

I'm used to not treating weekends as rest days and last Saturday was no different. Begrudgingly, I had to devote an entire morning clearing up flooded backyard premises because the drainage was too small to let the rainwater pass. After using bare hands to claw muck and unidentifiable debris through a sewage with a small opening and spending more than an hour drenched outside the house, I thought to myself, how lousy this day is as I stood alone on the street.

Spending a few more hours innovating on a makeshift down spout, I finally was able to solve and prevent flooding within the premise. It was already 2 hours past noon, that I felt my body longing for some rest. [I'm convinced I deserved one.] But the succeeding hours and events proved me wrong.

After two days, thankful as we are that our bodies could enjoy some sleep, our minds and hearts, unfortunately could not.

It's not just because the flooding left a trail of devastation; entire life-savings of friends, families and strangers poured on homes, belongings and furniture, all unrecognizable wreck,

Nor for the worries and uncertainty staring over an entire week or month of labor intensive rehabilitation while for cities and industries, a year at least,

And not even the pain of ordinary Filipino folks, made even more difficult, as the economy is bound to take a severe hit and so will be the rarity of earning that daily wage, nope.

We, Filipinos are used to dealing with these things, have accepted calamities and/or government ineptitude and often, indifference as part of our lots in life. We've learned to live with these.

But not the loss of one life or worse, lives, particularly the sight of lifeless, innocent children and the families they've left behind. Not that we can't accept death, it's just that with every passing, you can feel spirits of people around, especially the ones they've spent their time with, made less and rendered un-whole.

To try to make sense of this, we often say a deep prayer and look to the sky. The way this has happened, it would be better if we just close our eyes and imagine that the next time we open them, the sun would be there to greet us, a bit longer, instead.

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Most of today, I felt sad yet quite optimistic. But having seen this, can't help but feel gutted and angry.

On TV, a man told the crew that he lost a son and another child. The fact that their house is located on the side of a mountain is simply a tragedy in waiting with the coming of typhoon Ondoy/Ketsana [and now had been buried in mud].

As he sat there, pondering on what has happened, there was, on his mind, something that he cannot reconcile.

He recalled that the just the day before, he and his children were full of excitement putting up string lights around the house - their own simple way to welcome the coming Christmas.

Sadly, for him, this one, and probably the next, won't be merry.