New Era
By: Iris P. Concepcion

There is one story in Eggers' seminal, breaking out from pain book "A Heartbreaking Work of A Staggering Genius" that dealt with the loss of the author's parents. He had confessed he could not cry as he watched people coming in and out of their abode in animated actions during the wake. And for his extraordinarily bawled by shocking revelation: he confessed he felt horny in his time of grief. He is a weird man and that explains for that Plath-Hefner mesh.

I only claim to the not fully crying tightly; not the salacious side. Someone asked me why I haven't broken down in full view of the weeping gallery. I said: I have grieved for five years already though not solely on a day by day basis because that would be totally soapy and zilched. In between and in millions of hours, I have interacted with exciting personages who inspired me to write volumes of works I can honestly say I am extravagantly proud of. They made me laugh beyond my mouth can stretch out. With views so astounding.

I wrote about a talking kettle, a flying girl, a sublime witchcraft story inveigled with poignancy and urban synthesis--I mean I haven't shut off the plugs to brilliancy. I am not there fully but I am on my way to that place of writing kingdom. God forgive me my arrogance. It is a new leaf branching out from a chair instead of a tree.

To return to that grieving story, I underwent three hospitalizations via taking care of my mother. Its workplace perhaps dysenthesized me from the pain of loss. I had cried then to engulf the universe with floating teardrops. Now, it just wouldn't come because of the pre-falling. I thought I had lost my mother the first time but she had survived. I had been there with her that is why I know my way back to recovery via that process.

I miss the mother who took care of me as a kid. She was hefty, big, and beautiful, one time sporting a Shirley Temple hair in white gown. She is the kind of mother that I had kept close to my heart all these years. A beacon to his children. She is irreplaceable. That is the reason I stayed with her. My way of thanking for the years of fortitude accorded me. I just want the world to be filled with her kindness, for a change. Am shooting for the moon but what gives?

Someone advised me before: Why complicate when you already have that seamless understanding of how things completely shape? It does not lead to power tripping alcoholics with quite testy mouths (the smell stinks) but those whom you had genuinely BEEN with.

Thank you very much for allowing us to sing melodiously that drowned even the worst of grief invented in my side of town. I know the faces of the heroes and I keep a montage of your resilience and sincerity.

I can now work to feed myself and I have to locate the treasure map for it. Finally.