"No Virginia, There is No Santa Claus"

I don’t remember all my Christmas years when I was a child. But I do remember that if it’s the season of emptying pockets, the electricity in our town seemed fond of going out. Brownouts were no big surprises especially if it’s Christmas Eve. I do remember that in our elementary school, we had to write as many Christmas songs as we could remember. I recall myself taking pleasure in writing songs, dividing the English songs and the Tagalog tunes and beaming while looking at my notebook full of songs, thicker than my classmates! And I do remember the “exchange gifts” in our classroom. I particularly remember one Christmas party in which I gave my “manita” a box full of fragrant hankies and fans, then I, in return, received a plastic bag with an Ivory shampoo sachet, a small packet of korniks, Oishi, and the orange candies. Just imagine how I felt but then again, it’s the thought that counts.
My most significant memories of Christmases" were, of course, at home. When I was a child, I was delighted when I’m asked to help with the decorations. It was not elaborate but the spirit was fun. Papa would put up and literally “create” our very own Christmas tree. The cutout letters made of “banig”, sprinkled with glitters is still being displayed at our house during Christmas. It stays below the built in “notes” near the ceiling mightily greeting everyone “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!” We make our own Christmas decorations. We rarely buy. What was elaborate during Christmas was the food, still is. Papa, the accomplished cook, would never leave the table bare. The Christmas aroma is overwhelming. What was left? Well, of course, Santa Claus. We would stick to our door, this flat, red, and human size Santa Claus with its beard made of cotton. On Christmas Eve, after Noche Buena, the three of us, Kuya, me, and Mels, the bunso would hang a sock on the wall. The socks were for Santa Claus, the bigger the sock, the larger the gift.
My Christmases, when I was a child, were filled with wonder, wondering about Santa Claus. My innocent mind was the greatest believer of a huge man in red who would fill up my sock on Christmas Eve while the little me would sleep. Ever since, I started pinning my sock on Christmas Eve, Santa Claus never failed me on Christmas Day. It was overflowing with toys, candies, chocolates and clothes. One Christmas, however, I discovered the great secret behind Santa Claus. I remember this incident quite clearly. I just turned 8 that one particular December. December 24, evening, we just had our sumptuous Noche Buena, enjoyed some music and games. Before I went to bed, I kept on checking my sock and warned myself with the song “Santa Claus is Coming To Town”. I slept soundly that night. I woke up on Christmas Day very early. It was just before dawn. I woke up because little bladders can’t wait. When I opened the door to our living room, lo and behold! It was not Santa Claus but my very own Papa and Mama, stuffing toys and candies in our socks. They didn’t hear me while I silently watched, soft tears streaming down my cheeks. Santa Claus wasn’t real at all. It was a real battle inside me. As a child, I’ve lost all hope of winning. When Mama looked up after stuffing the last candy in my sister’s sock, she saw me crying silently. Just imagine what an eight year old girl felt when Mama laughed out loud. They tried to explain and console me but it was lost. I remember Mama saying (I don’t think she remembers this) that Santa Claus was just not available that day. But it was lost; my hope of catching Santa Claus was gone.
When my older brother and my sister awoke later that day, they were confused. It was Christmas Day, the day I lost Santa Claus.

My Road To Healing

Where do broken hearts go? oh yes, they go home. I don't need to say all the details most people would love to hear about. The point is I was hurt, I am still hurting and I guess he was also hurt. I realized three things about this episode in my life. First, I realized I am now a member of those people who had been through this hurt. Second, I found out I am capable of forgiving a person no matter how much the pain and how regretful the long years had been. THird, I realized I have a big heart. I can be very kind and understanding even in deep pain. I keep repeating the word pain because no matter how much I tell myself and others tell me i still feel the pain. It is not easy throwing almost three years in my life. Yes I did cry. No not the snuff stuff. I cried big time. I cried in front of my parents because it was too painful to hide it. Where do broken hearts go? They go home to the ones who never stopped loving them- their family. While I was crying in my father's arms, he told me to let it go, a better person person is more worth of me and the thing that kept me thinking was he said, God must have a different plan for me. God is a funny guy with a funny timing. The timing was perfect, I broke down on holiday season. The reality and the pain started sinking into my heart and into my head on NEw Year's Eve. I wanted to hide the pain from everyone but I could not. I just could not. It's too heavy for me to hold, I had to unload it. I broke down and cried and cried and cried in front of my parents. I told them haltingly what happened. Then they told me what to them. It's a funny life. Papa told me while I am crying that it's ok to cry but as you cry you will realize God must be laughing right now. God must be thinking that "No, no, that's not the one for you. I just had to let him pass because you have to feel the love and the pain, because you have to grow and because you have to be ready for the right one." Gradually I accepted the truth. There are some things I still don't understand but I am accepting it. I forgiven him. I am not a hateful person. No, I am not too kind, merely human and I understand the heart. Everyday the pain is there but I know one day it will only be a very nice memory and very nice part of my life. No, I am not ready for another relationship, I don't want a rebound. I pity the next person. I want to have the right one next time, if ever there will be the next time. But why not, I am 22, I'm young, I'm smart and I'm beautiful. Everyday I pray that the bitterness would one be completely one. The wound is still fresh but time heals all wounds. Everyday I pray that one day I will look at certain places not with controlled tears but with a fond smile. Everyday I pray that may God help me open up my heart again. I am afraid for myself, I am afraid I'm gonna close my heart. I am afraid to love again yet I am also afraid not to love again. I am on a road to healing. I busy myself everyday hoping to wash away the pain. I know that time will come. I'm eager for it. This a strengthening experience. I know I will be a better and stronger person. I guess it's thank you for breaking my heart, you make a better woman. As Mama quoted "It's better to have love and lost than not to have love at all."

ah imaw gali

yes!antigo na ako!pagka open ko pa lng ini.try lang ah.nainggit busa ako.wahahaha.next time lang galing ah,ya na ako tym.hay taya!!!