I came home after almost three weeks away. My roomie greeted me warmly, and then she said there is something she did not want to say over the phone. Our neighbour passed away last week.
It was a shock. I remember the morning I left, I was just outside her door, and the superintendent of the building was knocking at her door together with a concerned neighbour who had not seen her in a few days. She's all by herself, doesn't really do much except listen to classical music and watch news and religious channels. She likes to frequent a coffee shop around the corner (where she wanted to set me up with a single girl once, shortly after I moved in...). She doesn't really interact much with others, but whenever I did see her, she would be so warm and friendly, and call me "Professor".
It's hard to believe that she's not there anymore. Even today, as I was heading home, I was thinking to myself I should knock on her door and say hello. I tried calling her around three weeks ago, when I saw that the super and another person in the building could not find her. But her mobile phone was off, and nobody picked up at home. Then I asked my roomie to check up on her. Turned out she was in hospital due to her heart condition. And that was what took her eventually...
She had told me about her condition on several conditions. When the temperature drops, she, like many with a heart condition, feel it more. She complained of discomfort, and that she has to take pills to regulate it. We once exchanged for a while over this, as I said I also have something, arythmia that was diagnosed around 3 years ago, but nothing that the doctors said needs to be addressed urgently (though surgery is necessary to correct it, and best done when I'm still young...). She said she's had surgery before, and that she needs to be very careful. Last time we spoke for a while, just out in the corridor, she asked me whether it's good to fly with a heart condition. She said she wanted to go back home, to her native Philippines, where her mother is, and whose health is not that well. She was worried, and asked me how long the flight is. I recommended that she speak to her doctor, and that it's at least 20hrs or so of traveling--easiest probably with Eva via Taiwan, as it's decent and comfortable even in Economy Class. Who could have thought that would be the last conversation we would have...
It's odd... I've seen her at most a dozen or so times since I moved here three years ago. Yet, when I heard the news, it really pained me. Was it the knowledge that she spent her last hours alone, and probably in much distress and pain? Was it perhaps the guilt I feel because I was not more in touch with her... even though I vowed to myself when I left home last time to check up on her more? Was it because I made mental notes to invite her over for a simple meal, but never did? She said to me many times she does not know how to cook, and asked me if I knew how to cook... Why did I never invite her over when I had the chance...?
It pained and pains me to know that I will no longer bump into her in the corridor, or on the way home, or close by the corner cafe. Her and her light blue jacket, her navy blue tuc... or simple t-shirt in the summer. That smile she always wore, that warmth she always greeted me and called me "Professor" with... I have to admit that on occasion, I felt a bit annoyed by the way she would call me, or how she would try to set me up with some girl she knew... but she just wanted to help, and it's expected from someone her age (70s...).
The most memorable interaction with her was around this time last year. Her heating broke down during what must have been the coldest spell for years. She saw me one day and asked if the heating is working, and I recommended her to the repair company. Then a few days later, I saw and overhead her speaking with the super downstairs about the heating issue. It was still not addressed, and she had been without heat for almost two weeks. I was shocked... especially for someone in her condition. I offered to help her call the heating repair company, and made an appointment for her. Then it turns out that they can only take credit cards to make an appointment, which my neighbour does not have... I didn't think twice and said I'm happy for her to use my card, even though I did not know how much it would all cost. My worry was that she would suffer or worse in the persistent cold... nobody should have to suffer like this, even though she told me "It's God's will, and I'm prepared..." I dismissed it, and said there are things that we can fix, simple practical things like getting a repair crew to fix the heater. And within a few days, she had heat again. She was ever so grateful. It was, for me, nothing.
She was a simple lady. Her apartment was filled with Bibles, biblical ornaments, candles, books and things she got from her days when she did the God's work at a convent or on missions. She talked about God and religion a lot, it was her passion, her life. She was ready to be accepted into God's embrace... I gave her a small cross, I remember, from my trip to Bethlehem, and she was overjoyed.
And now she is no more.
I hope she is at ease, and truly with God and no longer so alone or lonely.
RIP, Clementia...
