As of this moment, my heart beat is beginning to get back to its normal rate after fear and worries made it pound hardly in my chest. A total of 14 people have just been relieved of their responsibilities from our department. In a more appropriate term, these people were asked to officially resign. Not only do I know many of them, some are really close to my heart.
Included on the list of those who were asked to resign were our trainer, my former teammate, and a close friend from another category. Although I am not among those who will be counted jobless tomorrow, I feel terribly awful. Strength has escaped my knees and arms, causing pain that radiated to my chest, stomach, and lower extremities. The veins in my head were thudding erratically. Indeed, the saddest kind of sadness is the one when your tears can’t well up in your eyes; it’ll surely take toll on your chest.
My lips were almost visibly shivering when we were asked to temporarily leave our work stations. I tried to stop them. It would be a sign of cowardice to tremble. But my subconscious self simply told me, “No, you have to be calm. This is an opportunity for you to be brave.”
When we were gathered in the main hall, I just felt that that was it: The affirmation of rumors that began as early as 4 am this morning. And so they were not just rumors. They were forecast of the upcoming company weather — turbulent, stormy.
The pressure that has started to build up slowly has made me weak and — apparently — incapable of doing my job. I opened one of my books. Books console me in times of outpouring inexplicable emotions — may they be sadness or happiness.
After the process of resignation – layoff – was done and goodbyes were wholeheartedly expressed to colleagues, my feeling remained numb. Why has numbness made me a favorite in so many situations of my life? Why is it that every time something like this happens, I can barely – if not totally can’t — feel my entire body, only my heart pulsating so unusually fast in an intermittent spacing?
No words would want to come out of my mouth as if my jaws and palates were sedated with a strong anesthesia – or any kind of drug, for that matter – that would not easily slack off even after hours – or days, perhaps.
The only thing I could do was to stare. At nothing. Blankly. In stupor. I moved my eyes around and saw hanging lanterns in supposedly various gleeful shapes and joyful colors. They were so sad to look at.
Don’t lanterns suppose to remind Catholics that the season of festivities has come? I think yes, they do. But in seasons like this, sadness will still be a reality of the present and farewells will always be a thing of tomorrow. Instead of being there to lighten up the mood and heart of the Catholics, the lanterns hanging in our office seem to be there now to signify that even this world’s season greetings could not easily heal pain, that the bleak and lifeless hues of sorrow could not instantly be covered and painted by the colors and symbols of cheers.
Who really knows what would happen a second later from now? Why do things happen the way they are not expected to be? Why can’t life just be about reading so that no one would have to be hurt to learn?
Most of the time, we would be left with only one way to get an answer: Have faith.
Lanterns
December 6, 2008As of this moment, my heart beat is beginning to get back to its normal rate after fear and worries made it pound hardly in my chest. A total of 14 people have just been relieved of their responsibilities from our department. In a more appropriate term, these people were asked to officially resign. Not only do I know many of them, some are really close to my heart.
Included on the list of those who were asked to resign were our trainer, my former teammate, and a close friend from another category. Although I am not among those who will be counted jobless tomorrow, I feel terribly awful. Strength has escaped my knees and arms, causing pain that radiated to my chest, stomach, and lower extremities. The veins in my head were thudding erratically. Indeed, the saddest kind of sadness is the one when your tears can’t well up in your eyes; it’ll surely take toll on your chest.
My lips were almost visibly shivering when we were asked to temporarily leave our work stations. I tried to stop them. It would be a sign of cowardice to tremble. But my subconscious self simply told me, “No, you have to be calm. This is an opportunity for you to be brave.”
When we were gathered in the main hall, I just felt that that was it: The affirmation of rumors that began as early as 4 am this morning. And so they were not just rumors. They were forecast of the upcoming company weather — turbulent, stormy.
The pressure that has started to build up slowly has made me weak and — apparently — incapable of doing my job. I opened one of my books. Books console me in times of outpouring inexplicable emotions — may they be sadness or happiness.
After the process of resignation – layoff – was done and goodbyes were wholeheartedly expressed to colleagues, my feeling remained numb. Why has numbness made me a favorite in so many situations of my life? Why is it that every time something like this happens, I can barely – if not totally can’t — feel my entire body, only my heart pulsating so unusually fast in an intermittent spacing?
No words would want to come out of my mouth as if my jaws and palates were sedated with a strong anesthesia – or any kind of drug, for that matter – that would not easily slack off even after hours – or days, perhaps.
The only thing I could do was to stare. At nothing. Blankly. In stupor. I moved my eyes around and saw hanging lanterns in supposedly various gleeful shapes and joyful colors. They were so sad to look at.
Don’t lanterns suppose to remind Catholics that the season of festivities has come? I think yes, they do. But in seasons like this, sadness will still be a reality of the present and farewells will always be a thing of tomorrow. Instead of being there to lighten up the mood and heart of the Catholics, the lanterns hanging in our office seem to be there now to signify that even this world’s season greetings could not easily heal pain, that the bleak and lifeless hues of sorrow could not instantly be covered and painted by the colors and symbols of cheers.
Who really knows what would happen a second later from now? Why do things happen the way they are not expected to be? Why can’t life just be about reading so that no one would have to be hurt to learn?
Most of the time, we would be left with only one way to get an answer: Have faith.