It's funny how we fail to appreciate the ones we love until faced with the stark possibility of loss.

I arrived home late last night from a mini shopping spree and chika fest with Abby. As I was riding the jeepney home, I sent my mom a text message telling her where I was and that I was on my way home.

On a usual night, I would find Lola watching TV as she waited for me to come home. As soon as I'd arrive, she would heat up the soup and whatever dish it was that struck my fancy. Last night was different. When I got home at around 11, I was surprised to find that the lights were already out. There was nobody in the dining room. The TV was turned off.

"Where are you?" I texted my mom.

I found out that she was in the hospital. She had to take my lola to the Coronary Care Unit of Davao Doctor's Hospital because there was a blockage in her heart. She apparently had a fainting spell after her reflexology session. She had a similar attack last January but had refused to be taken to the hospital. She soon recovered and went back to her old smoking ways (She's a really heavy smoker).

It just strikes me. At 75, she's like my epitome of a superwoman. She still works as editor/publisher of her self-founded Road Map Series, a compilation of visual and literary arts by various artists, and her annual Road Map Series Art Calendar. She's a restless woman. In the morning, she makes sure that all her children and grandchildren have had their breakfast. At times when I'd be in a rush in the morning, she'd prepare a sandwich for me to eat on my way to work. She'd spend the day painting or working on another poem or short story while the kids were in school. At 6 pm, she'd be helping Isabel do her homework. Later in the evening, she'd be watching TV and she'd be waiting for me to arrive from dance classes or wherever. Just recently, she'd been doing my laundry even if I insisted that I could do my own laundry because she knew that I would be too tired from the office to do it and I'd end up having a humongous pile of soiled clothes in my bedroom.

I recall two birthdays ago. I was still in college and was living in the dorm. She sent me a card with a multi-colored cat on the cover. In it was written,

For my favorite grandchild Vida,

Sending you a rainbow cat to chase all those candy-colored mice who come to distract you from your studies. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Lola

I was surprised because, before that, I never knew I was her favorite.

I know I broke her heart last March when I refused to write a movie review of "Memoirs of a Geisha" for Davao's literary magazine Dagmay. I couldn't bring myself to turn in something knowing it would undergo the scrutiny of my lola's writer eyes. I couldn't possible meet the standards of a Palanca award winner. Looking back, my effort might have meant much more to her than the actual artistic prowess of my work.

I visited her at the hospital this morning but she was asleep. She looked so frail. It pains me to think that her heart might just stop at any moment. And she doesn't have any idea how much she means to me. I just don't want to lose another one.

P.S. I hate drugs and I hate cigarettes!