The sorrow of Lauro

It is difficult to find the right words of sympathy. The loss of a loved one is a pain you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. No one is spared from the cycle of life. But one prays that death strikes only when one is ready, that it be gentle, pain-free and that one crosses into the light with serenity and dignity.

Nineteen years ago, Lauro Vizconde suffered a loss so unbearable. With the acquittal from the Supreme Court, he relives every unspeakable moment. In his words, the reversal of the life sentences was another massacre.

Even those who have experienced a death in the family can only imagine the quantum anguish Lauro has gone through. Someone of lesser strength might not have been able to go on. The quest for justice was his reason for living. And just when he thought it was mission accomplished, life handed him another curved ball.

What can one say to mitigate the sorrow of Lauro? The right words have yet to be invented. Empathy cannot capture the inconsolable agony that he has lived through, twice. This virtual hug from a total stranger is a feeble attempt to offer some solace.

In despair, the only antidote is faith. A certainty that even in the pits of wretchedness, you will find a way to crawl out and draw reserved energy and renewed hope from the depths of your soul. You will stand up and embrace the goodness of humanity. Whatever your religion, know that the grand design is unfolding, as unfathomable as it may seem.

It is true that God works in mysterious ways. When we have done all that is humanly possible, we surrender control to heaven. What feels like a ghastly miscarriage of justice, might turn out to be the fairest hand that the universe can deal out to all the actors. In time, the Plan and the script penned by Karma will be discernible.

Can you stop yourself from raising a fist to the sky wondering if He has forsaken you? Or why He has allowed this injustice to happen? Was He sleeping on the job? Does He even exist? You will not be the first or the last to ask such plaintive questions. Don’t look forward to any answer soon.

With rancor you might ask, how much was your family’s life worth? But in order to heal, some thoughts must not be entertained. The Tribunal qualified its decision not as one of vindication for the accused, but a weakness in testimony, a reasonable doubt. Perhaps for now, it is better to accept the judgment. For now, the only concern is how to be whole again.

If you associated closure with a guilty verdict from the highest court in the land, it might be time to redefine what it really means. Not all endings are clean and clear. Sometimes there is wisdom in ambiguity. Sometimes the haze is needed before true illumination can shine through. Sometimes, letting go and releasing the torment is what heals the heart and salves the throbbing ache. Peace of mind is the truest meaning of closure.

Retreating from the world just for a moment is a relief. To be alone watching your own thoughts in silence, listening to the beat of your heart, breathing in, breathing out in stillness. Just being consumed by the absolute present. It’s the key to meditative reflection from where clarity of thought and purpose emanate. As the oft-quoted truism goes, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, today is a gift — that’s why it’s called the present.” In the calm, you might find the answer to what next?

Weep if you must. As grief counselors advise, crying is nature’s way of healing. Tears literally wash out sorrow. Then one fine morning, mourning finally gives way to renewal. As actor George Burns said when his wife of 67 years passed away, “You cry. You keep crying until you stop crying.” He was 93 years old when Gracie Allen died. George lived on to be a centenarian.

There is a lot to learn from him in life and death. “How can I die? I’m booked,” he quipped. His wit was always razor-sharp. Another time he said, “I can’t afford to die, I’ll lose too much money.” George outlived a lot of his friends and colleagues so he used his sense of humor as a cure for loneliness. “I would go out with women my age, but there are no women my age,” he joked. He kept himself busy to the very end. “I look to the future because that is where I will be spending the rest of my life.” It’s probably why he was so convincing as “God”. He seemed to have found the formula for beating melancholy.

If you are wondering why I am intruding on your thoughts, and how I seem to know grief so well— it’s because I do. This Christmas Day will be the first death anniversary of my beloved mother. Although your pain is more extreme, the journey of grieving takes the same route. I was numb. Why of all days did He have to take her away on my favorite holiday? How can we celebrate the birth of Christ and the death of my mom at the same time? Why am I in the morgue instead of the family reunion?

The priest said my mom chose the best and shortest way to heaven since she died on Christmas day. I can now laugh at the thought that she always hated black. So she made sure that we wouldn’t wear the color for her. I even hear her chuckle in my head and remember her twinkling eyes as she admonished us: I don’t want tears and sadness when I meet my Maker. I want a celebration of life.

So what better time to go than on the happiest day of the year?

We share your sorrow. It takes time for the ache to become bearable. But it does.

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