The song for Manoling’s late mom

A few issues ago, Funfare printed Manoling Morato’s reaction to my piece (Learning to mourn – and to let go, Oct. 10 issue) on the first death anniversary of my mom, with an appeal to readers for the complete lyrics of a song Manoling continues to hum in his never-ending grieving process for his own mom who also died last year.

Readers Victor Astillo, E. Manalo, Victor Volfango and Jose Barroso very kindly provided the complete lyrics of the song entitled I’ll See You in My Dreams sung by, among others, Louis Armstrong, and composed by Gus Kahn (with lyricist Isham Jones). Here they are:

I’ll see you in my dreams

And then I’ll hold you in my dreams

Someone took you right out of my arms

Still I feel the thrill of your charms

Lips that once were mine

Tender eyes that shine

They will light my way tonight

I’ll see you in my dreams

(Instrumental break)

Yes I will see you in my dreams

You know I’ll hold you in my dreams

I know that someone took you right out of my arms

But still I feel the thrill of your charms

I dream of lips that once were mine

And those tender eyes that shine

I know they’ll light my way tonight

When I see you in my dreams

Yes they will light my way tonight

Because I’ll see you in my dreams

I’d like to thank other readers who wrote to express their own feelings over the loss of loved ones, including "Jade", "Edgar", "BO", "Chai", Millicent Bautista Marquez, Tessie Garcia, Danny Pagsambugan, Jesusa Aragon, Rogel Nuguid, Joan Lazarte, Joey Ramos, Patricia Antonio, Marichu Ramos, Fe Ellamae Cerico-Klit, Karen Sievert, "Twapoy", Grace Rivo, Angelo DiMaggio, Jun Valenzuela, Marilou delos Santos, Juni Uy and Marlene Atienza Soriano, among them.

Perhaps they and I and other bereaved readers can find a little comfort from the experiences of two other readers who express exactly what we all feel when a loved one departs for good.

Here’s the letter from reader Ulyses Lao:

Ricky,

I lost my mom 49 days ago. Today, we visited her for the 49th day custom we Filipino-Chinese practice. She was 52 when the Lord took her from me and my family; she had cancer.

I would like to thank you for sharing your experience in your article which made a big impact on me on that day because, like you, I was mourning and learning to let go.

The Lord took our mothers from us because He has a wonderful plan for us. It’s strange to think of it that way. It’s strange to even say that now but it’s true and I believe that. My mom told me before she left that everybody has a purpose in life. To her, that purpose was to be able to take good care of her five children, raise them well and love them. And if that purpose had already been fulfilled, then it’s time for you to go back to the Lord. Ricky, our mothers just went back to their Father, and we will, too, when we finish our purpose in life.

My sister Michelle and I had the opportunity to take care of our mother during her year-and-a-half battle with cancer. It was painful to see her deteriorate; it was even more painful to hear her say sorry because she thought she was a big burden to us. That’s how big and great the love of a mother is. I thank the Lord that He gave me an opportunity to take care of my mom.

Losing our mother is, indeed, painful; the pain will last as long as we live. But nevertheless, we can always meet up in our dreams, in our memories and in the pictures we have together. I had that chance to tell my mom that we can always meet up and talk in my dreams. She will be forever alive there. Thank God for dreams!

Learning to mourn and letting go is, indeed, hard. But we have our mothers’ and other family members' love to help us get through it. The Lord is also there to help us mourn and let go. And the idea of one day seeing each other will always be good comfort – a "reunion" in heaven.

Regards,

– Ulyses Lao

* * *

And another letter from Theresita Aquino:

I read your column about learning to mourn and to let go. I just sent a message to my sister regarding the animosity we have with our elder brother and I told her that maybe it’s time to settle issues. In these days when death hurtles from the sky, the closure of all issues among us should come early, not when one of us can no longer enjoy the other’s warm embrace. Not when there is already an uncomfortable silence or not when the silence is in the graveyard. Yes, we always have a hard time letting go when we lose somebody. I came across the following poem I sent to a friend who lost an only son:

I will lend you for a little time a child of mine, He said, for you to love while he lives and mourn for when he is dead. It maybe six or seven years or 22 or 33. But will you, till I call him back, take care of him for me?

He will bring his charms to gladden you and shall his stay be brief, you will have his lovely memories as solace for your grief. I cannot promise he will stay since all from earth return, but there are lessons taught down there I want the child to learn.

I have looked the wide world over in my search for teachers thru and from the throngs that crowd life’s lanes I have selected you. Now, will you give him all your love nor think the labor vain nor hate me, when I come to call to take him back again?

I fancied that I heard you say, "Dear Lord Thy will be done." For all the joy thy child shall bring, the risk of grief will run, we will shelter him with tenderness, we will love him while we may. And for the happiness we have known, forever grateful stay. But shall the angels call him much sooner than we planned, we will brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.

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