Marita
02 April 2006, 9:40p
My cousin Marita passed away today in Minneapolis. She was 34 years old.
She had been in the hospital for over two months, waiting for a liver and kidney transplant. There was a time when there was a liver that matched her. Unfortunately, it was too big. This morning (night of the 1st in Minneapolis), she finally had a liver and a kidney that matched her and was the right size for her. The liver was already transplanted and was working, when apparently, her blood pressure dropped and she went into cardiac arrest. They weren’t able to revive her, and now she’s gone.
It’s very hard to accept. Marita, my giggly cousin, is gone. She is one of the nicest, kindest, most generous, most loving person I know. It’s been ten years since I last saw her, when she paid a visit to the Philippines. Between then and today, what little communication we had was mostly through email. Infrequent emails notwithstanding, I’ve never grown apart from her.
In a way, we grew up together. I spent seven years in the States in the 80’s, and we (Marita, her sister Mira, our cousin Yasmin, and I) were the best of friends. Oh sure, we had our moments of misunderstanding and fights, but on the whole, we were the greatest friends. When I left the US for good, I knew our times together were among the things I would miss most, and I did. I do, even now.
Marita was, and will always be, special. She wasn’t even a teenager when she had to have a kidney transplant. Nevertheless, she lived a full life, and I like to think that she lived the way she wanted to. She never seemed to limit herself. She travelled a lot, and learned new things. I think she liked the challenge.
I feel a deep sense of loss, but I know her parents and her sister feel much more. I wish I could offer them more help than just some words of comfort. But what can you really say to comfort those who have lost someone dear. It’s hard enough to do that for myself. I look at Marita’s picture, and it still is hard to believe that she’s gone. I know that time will eventually ease the pain of losing her, I only wish we didn’t have to feel that pain so soon.
I console myself with the thought that she is in a better place now, at peace, much happier than she would be here. Still, I would have liked much more to have her with us. But like my friend said, God has called her home, and it’s time to let her go. I just wish letting go wasn’t so hard to do.
