Baby, I'm Yours.
Sept 26, 2014
For Melody (Baby) Ongchangco Basa-Ibarra
It's almost 5 years short of celebrating Melody, a.k.a. Baby's birthday today if she didn't leave us in November 16, 2009.
2009. Challenging year. Recovering from the searing pain of a spinal problem and fibromyalgia, I lost both her and my best friend Bonnie just months in between.
They said round parents get square children. Baby and I are total opposites. She was a lady, I was a scruffy amazon. She loved fluffy things and fantastical unicorns, I thrived in howling winds and gloomy weather. She mostly dressed in cheerful colours and I wore mostly black.
I remember being 4 years old and having her coach me to sing 'Baby I'm Yours' by Barbara Lewis, her favorite song, which I didn't actually mind. Only when I heard it being played in a movie 8 years after did I exclaim to her "Kill me now".
Haha.
Whenever she visits me now, I tease her by playing back the Arctic Monkeys version of it and also singing "You Know I'm No Good" by the same band just to erase the cloying Barbara Lewis version out of my memory of having to sing that aloud in prep school. With a red ribbon on my head. Oh, the humanity!
But we were also partners. She raised us all three while growing a very demanding business, built us a very comfortable and spacious home, took us to trips abroad and I helped her shelter my two younger brothers from school yard bullies, bus ride freaks and abusive neighbors.
I was also her confidante and shock absorber for all her problems, finances, jealous friends and her career path. Oh, and also gentlemen callers that she fends off because her values are very intact.
We were each other's enablers. She encouraged me to go as far as I can and I convinced her later in her life to never give up on love. It's one cosmic balloon worth chasing.
And then she found one. Wait a moment, she actually found two. Her first boyfriend after her separation from my dad was a sweet chap, but it didn't pan out and she was heartbroken for months.
Then enter frame, the white knight, Uncle Rome, whom she married and played beautiful music with. By that I meant Magic Mic Karaoke chip, so when I hear some caterwauling, I just go back to sleep knowing it's just the two of them singing.
They held hands, stared at each other over long breakfasts every morning, they slow danced, partied with their friends, and well, kinda also verbally assaulted me in tandem for being a perennial jerk.
Tickled my little black heart.
She weaved magic out of nothing. She had good education and culture from her parents, and the rest, she built with her own hands. She has managed to be a good partner to my dad during hard times, and has been a doting and generous aunt to my cousins.
She lived to make most people happy. Never mind that she has suffered in silence, she didn't want people to talk and she protected her family from being slagged by others.
Am I sad that she's gone? That kind of pain stays with you, but one has to let go so that demons can be defeated and so that true healing begins. Yep, it's cliche to say you must release people if you love them. It is so hypocritical to say those big words when you're reeling from madness, and I am not one who will ever be in denial. I slay dragons by confronting them.
But also, also.....
This lady has very little things to regret about. She never lamented her sacrifices for her loved ones. She is proud of her journey. She soared high with all her achievements. Her admirable rise from having nothing much to being a chief abundant provider was a feat. For a long time, she has been both matriarch and patriarch of the family.
She did not leave any stone unturned.
To be sorry for her is to insult her. And so in her funeral, we honored her.
Her teen pictures.
The highlights of her career as a dancer for a national dance troupe.
Her many happy date photos with Eddie [dad]
Her happy motherhood photos [gosh, who's that adorable baby girl she is holding?]
Her many happy photos with her girlfriends.
We made sure lavender and geranium oils were infused in the room where she lay resting so that no one smells a whiff of sadness which she so tried to elude when she was alive.
We painted collages of different versions of Baby, from the toddler Baby to married Baby, and 60-something Baby and put it up on the walls during the almost week-long wake.
Baby, I'm yours!
So for my mother, who is the only one I can profess such love to, here is your favorite song, lipsynched by me:
Baby I'm yours
And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky
Yours until the rivers all run dry
In other words, until I die
Baby I'm yours
And I'll be yours until the sun no longer shines
Yours until the poets run out of rhyme
In other words, until the end of time
I'm gonna stay right here by your side
Do my best to keep you satisfied
Nothing in the world can drive me away
'Cause every day you'll hear me say
Baby I'm yours
And I'll be yours until two and two is three
Yours until the mountain crumbles to the sea
In other words, until I eternity
Baby I'm yours
Till the stars fall from the sky
Baby I'm yours Till the rivers all run dry
Baby I'm yours
Till the poets run out of rhyme
Baby I'm yours
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