For us dear, Never a tomorrow.
I wrote this poem when I was 9 or 10 years old, a presentiment of this love of mine.
“Long ago in an ancient and forgotten land,
We strolled through green meadows hand in hand.
Eyes gazing upon a foamy billowy sea,
There we sat, just you and me.
You told me stories of your adventurous youth,
I, my girlish fantasies, and Oh! How we laughed,
not a care in the world except for one another.
But that was long before life took us both
Into her gaping mouth and sucked us into her belly.
And now not years but lifetimes since,
I can still see your sparkling eyes and
Eternal spirit. And love is not the childhood
Dream I once held and lost, it is more,
Yes! much, much more.”
I fell in love when I was 16 years old. After having endured the traumas
described in previous pages, I was ready for some magic. And I was not your average teenager by then.
I think falling in love changed my life and life’s’ path forever. I always held an ideal of what the man I fell in love with would be like. It seemed like everyone I
really liked then was spoken for or simply wouldn’t be caught dead with me. I decided I’d rather have boys as friends because I couldn’t stand it when they got all fawn eyed and gooey. I wanted
a man who knew his own mind and could teach me things I didn’t know about life. And being alone with so many secrets I just wanted someone to love me...truly love me. Falling in love at the
tender age of 16! I think it was doomed from the start.
I met “Leo”, a pen name, to protect the innocent, in the office of a friend, who happened to be a dentist fixing a bridge for him. A
totally unromantic setting to meet the man of your dreams. But no, it mattered little because the room disappeared and I could see only him, and the look in his eyes, the world seemed to have
become this vast and expansive universe, with only the two of us in it. We seemed to be looking at someone we had known all our lives, finding each other again after a long absence.
It happened in a moment, a mere flash in time, but that moment has lasted my whole life in it’s glorious splendor. It was like a scene from a movie, a love story, and it was happening to me.
He immediately got my phone number. I gave him my number at home, at my parents house where of course I still lived. He and his driver, picked me up the next day and we went to lunch.
Nothing mattered except that when we were next to each other or even thought of each other, our heads would swim and we had little control of this feeling. It was like a tidal wave of
utmost passion and love, and it would crash down upon us, not even in gentle waves did it come to us. Until now when I think of those days, my heart still quickens and my pulse begins
to race, and my breath will come in tiny gasps. The tiny hairs on my nape and arms will rise and every pore aquiver, I will have to shudder in pleasant ecstatic remembrance. After all
these years! It is life’s gift to me. Because it became such a tragedy for me and cast shadows over my lifes’ years in my 20’s and 30’s. Perhaps the memories now are a consolation,
in that I have learned to forgive him, and forgive myself for my complicity in loving him, as it turned out, a married man. Oh woe the day I found out he was not divorced. But I get a head of myself.
In him I found someone who would listen to my ideas about life, or
even answer my questions. He didn’t treat me as though I were a “mere child” but as an equal. The thing I loved about him, aside from his debonair ways, was his MIND. God gave me an inquisitive
mind, and as soon as I could think I was pondering the meaning of life and I wanted to know everything about everything. He was an affluent, self made millionaire/businessman at the age of 31 when I
met him. He had also studied chemistry in college and had a brilliant mind for how things worked, in fact, he worked with some other chemists who came up with the very first formula to mold
capiz into those lovely articles encased in mother-of-pearl these days. I have one of the very first objects made with this molded capiz, in the form of a praying hands, with an inscription on the
back that states that it is “the first of it’s kind”. He was brilliant. He could talk about anything on most subjects. He called me his “little genius” his “diamond in the rough”. He saw the mind God
had given me and wanted to help to mold it. He loved opera and could hold his own singing in soprano, versions of “che gelida manina” from the Opera La Boheme. He loved to sing to me, and I
would blissfully listen, conjuring up dreams of our charmed future together.
He was aside from other things, a V.P. at a popular Manila Newspaper and he introduced me to
photojournalism first hand. I was thrilled. Photography was a love of mine since my dad gave me my first “Brownie” camera when I was about 11 years old. Dad was the first to show me
how to use a camera. But I stray. He let me go out with the writers and take photos of their sessions so I could learn get the experience I wanted. We were always careful and discreet in
where we went together. My parents would never have allowed me to even begin seeing a man of this age or go on assignments with writers, altho he was always with me for these.
After 3 months of basically hiding this affair from my parents, “Leo” said we should “come clean” because after my classes I had no more reasons to be going out of the house as often
as I had. We then both went to my parents and “confessed” our feelings for one another , and he surprised me by asking for my hand in marriage! My parents looked as though someone had
punched them in the stomach. But upon my protestations at their disapproval and avowals of love from both of us, they relented to a test period of engagement; that were could proceed
with the courtship in the open and with their blessing after that. Oh joy, of joys. To love him openly, to be with him and my family together as one.
We both loved to dance and when we danced our bodies were one, and our rhytyms were in tune, and it was a glorious experience to be led across a dance floor by him. Often people
would stop and watch, as though we were Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. He spoiled me mercilessly. I had never wanted for much from my family, and being a sickly only daughter, I
was spoiled by them as well. On my first birthday with him, he told me to go outside, we were at the Newspaper office, which I did. I saw a car filled to overflowing with roses. Roses!!
Thousands of red roses..when I opened the door they spilled out and the fragrance of them made me dizzy. Taped to the steering wheel was a card and the keys to the car!!
WOW..EXCITING!! I didn’t even know how to drive!! My parents drove me everywhere I need to go, or we had a driver. How was I going to get this home, and let’s see, my dumb luck, it’s
a stick shift too!! Well I faked it....drove that puppy all the way home. How I did it I will never know, but I managed it from remembering the times my mother explained it to me. The gears,
the pedals etc. I was beet red from exertion, that when he met up with me he even asked why I was so red!! I think I blamed it on the heat!
He was fond of buying me jewelry, nice little sparklies. Some of my female relatives collected and wore such baubles, pearls, diamonds, emeralds etc. They always mesmerized me but I had
no overwhelming desire to seek them out on my own. To me they were tokens of his affection and the size or quality mattered little to me. One time I wanted to eat Chinese food, he asked
me to bring my passport to lunch, and had his driver pick me up. I was taken to the airport where I met him and off we flew to Hong Kong for Chinese food. How romantic! How could I
not love this man with his wonderful surprises?? Hong Kong is less than a couple hours away from Manila by plane
He made the simplest things seem extraordinary and he marveled at my ability to grasp politics,
his ideas on chemistry, philosophy, history. For hours on end we would discuss these things, that is, when we could pry ourselves apart from a torrid embrace or lingering kiss.
Eventually of course, Manila being the small town that it was and is, we found out “Leo” was not divorced at all. That he was still living with his wife and 6 children. At first he would make
excuses that his wife was fragile, he couldn’t tell her right then, or that there were legal complications. So in love with him was I that I wanted to believe these blatant lies. I wanted
to believe he couldn’t have done this to our love, but soon enough it was all too clear that he had lied to me from the very first.
To say that it broke my heart would never describe the total devastation I felt when I realized he had betrayed my trust in him. I felt like a fool, and I even talked to his wife, who also
eventually found out, telling her I’m sorry, I didn’t know. It was so awful to face her but it was a catharsis for me, and ll the while a part of me was screaming, “I don’t care if he lied I love
him anyway.” But no, for me it was over. And all the rivers in the world could have been filled with my tears when I told him it was over. He begged me to forgive him, and even showed up
with a suitcase one night saying he’d finally done it, he’d left her. But I knew I would never trust him again, and I never wanted his children to say it was me who tore their father from
them. I wanted to keep him, but in my heart, I knew it was wrong, and I had to let him go.
My mother took me on a trip to Europe to get me
away from him. To help me forget him. But when we arrived in Switzerland, he was there to meet us at the airport with a limousine waiting outside, saying, that we had to say goodbye properly, that it would
all work out, that he loved me, and would love me forever and to please be patient. I never saw a thing in Switzerland but him...through my endless tears. My poor mother was so overwrought. We all tried to
be civil during this trip, we had dinner, tried to pretend all was well. Leo and my mom talking about possibilities for my new future. It’s all a daze to me. We went on to London, and again he met up with us. I couldn’t escape him. One night he opened up three velvet boxes with sets of matching bracelets, rings,
necklaces, tiaras; one rubies and diamonds, the other diamonds and emeralds, and the last diamonds and blue sapphires. He said he had gotten them at a bargain for only $1 million dollars each and that they were for me, as
a token of his love and affection. I felt as though he was trying to buy me back and I hurled them across the room and fled weeping. Finally realizing it was a futile trip, we
came back home to Manila, just in time for my brothers wedding.
It went from being the fairy tale romance of the year to a future I didn’t know I could face without him. One
night I was so distraught I took every pill I could get my hands on, hoping to die. I guess my parents found me and rushed me to the Hospital to have my stomach pumped. I was shrieking for them to leave me alone to
let me die. I was cursing the doctor. When the pills didn’t work, I crashed my car into a sea wall, but was once again saved and taken to a hospital to be stitched
up. Life had no meaning for me. Life was a cruel joke on the innocent. God was cruel and uncaring. I was at war with God and the world and most of all myself. I felt so
alone, so very alone. I had planned a life of adventure with him, and now to face it alone, I could not. I tried so many ways to do myself in, and none
of them worked until I simply gave up and went through the motions of life to try to recapture the love of life I had before him.
My parents sent me away from him to San Francisco to take up classes in fashion design which I thought I would enjoy but didn’t. We were so close that one time it came into my head that
he was downtown at the St. Francis Hotel, and on an impulse I called the hotel and he was indeed there with his wife. We were always running into each other in the oddest places, hotel
lobbies in Los Angeles, or at the airports on our ways here and there. And always, the fervent looks, and he would whisper that he still did and would always love me. It was something we
both knew, it was something we both knew we could never recapture again in this life. We always loved each other in a special way all his life. He died a year or two ago, and I knew
when he died, when his soul left this earth. Though we could never be together, but the special way of kindred spirits. No longer the torrents of passion, but a simpler, kinder love for
each others souls and indomitable spirits.
To him I want to say, “Thank you for the love and even the pain, that has molded my life into
one of great meaning and depth.” And as always my dearest friend, even though you are gone now from this earth, and for us, “never a tomorrow”, I hope you are at peace and happy now where ever you are.
(as much as I’d like to put up photos of us, this mans wife is still alive and his children, I would not wish to hurt in any way, should they stumble across this diary)