Three months was all I was given to prepare for his leaving.  But I did not know then how much time I would need to move on and be happy again.

I was 43 when I lost Benjie in June 2005; he was 49, and our son Joseph was 9. That dreaded day in March is still stark in my mind, when the oncologist confirmed that Benjie’s cancer had spread.  I remember getting up and dialing my office number, and then completely breaking down when my female officemate took the call.  “Hey, don’t make him see you cry, okay?” was all she could say.

Chemotherapy and other drugs were of no help at stage 4.  The battle went by quickly, and all the while I had remained calm.  When my husband breathed his last, I stood watching while the doctor pumped his chest.  I shed no more tears for I had already prepared myself for that moment.

At the wake in Arlington, so many thoughts raced through my mind: How would I pay the bills?  Would I be able to keep the apartment or would Joseph, his nanny and I have to move in with my Dad or my in-laws?

Benjie used to take care of the major expenses like rent and utilities, the nanny’s salary and Joseph’s tuition while I handled the groceries and smaller expenses. With my husband gone, I did not know how things would work out.

For some months after the burial, my savings and some of the cash donations enabled us to keep the apartment in Makati – the home that Benjie and I had moved into straight from our honeymoon, and eventually where Joseph was born.

But the funds soon dried up, and as the arrears were building up, we had to leave the apartment that had been our home for 11 years.

Fortunately, I was working for an accounting firm on the fourth floor of a five-storey building, and my boss who owned the building offered to lease us a studio unit on the fourth floor.

After a year, however, I once again fell back on the rentals, so we had to vacate the unit and move with my unmarried brother and sister in our family home.

Today, I’m glad that I have finally wiped off my arrears even if it took me three years of paying on installment basis. In our new home, I share the household expenses with my siblings, and this has become manageable since I started working in a government agency in August 2010 where I’m being paid well.

My son is just as fortunate to have loving and supportive relatives from both sides of the family. For his tuition, I am blessed to have an unmarried lawyer-sister who, at Benjie’s deathbed, had promised to assist me with this expense.

On weekends, my son and I get together with my siblings and their families for bonding time. And I make it a point for Joseph and me to be with his father’s family once or twice a year particularly during the Christmas holidays, when Benjie’s large clan holds their annual reunion.

My parents-in-law have survived my husband and his younger brother, who passed away in the late ’80s. Once, when Joseph was 11, my mother-in-law asked him if I already had a boyfriend.  When my son angrily denied that I did, she gently told him that it was alright, and in fact it would be good for me to remarry so that my new partner could help support us. My son made it clear he did not think so.

Now 15, Joseph has turned out to be an outstanding student in school, even writing short stories that have been published in a popular glossy magazine and two anthologies.

I miss the infant and toddler who once delighted Benjie and me, though, and I do worry about raising a son without a father image. Being an artist, Joseph is passionate and tends to answer back when provoked. So when I reprimand him, I do it gently lest I do harm to his male psyche. To make him tough, I make him commute frequently.  And now that he and his male friends meet girls from various schools, I make sure to teach him some manners and etiquette when dealing with the opposite sex. I also constantly dialogue with him about courtship and sexuality.

I am now 48.  Many times, I feel lonely in bed.  But I’ve learned to suppress my passion. People have been telling me that I could still remarry if I want to.  But I don’t – I am afraid to lose a partner again.

I’ve heard of parishes holding activities for “solo parents” (widows/widowers, unwed mothers, or separated spouses), but I’ve never been interested enough to attend them.

I’ve moved on pretty well, I guess… and I’m happy.  I survived the battle that cost me my dear Benjie.  With the grace of God – and the support of my family – I will live on!

Contributed photos