Some things can't be fixed.

I grew up in the sixties and in a practical family, where things aren't thrown away but recycled and repaired. We would wash aluminum foils after we use them and fix old shoes and sandals as long as we can squeeze life out of them.

Our life is full of fixing this and that - the kitchen door,the old radio, a bag, the chair, the hem of the dress or skirt, the pillow,... things we keep.

Yes, it was a way of life, although sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, re-heating, mending - I wanted just once to be wasteful! To throw old things away, knowing fully well there will always be more.

Last Sunday I got news that my father-in-law died. And last night I got a call from my sister in Bacolod. She told me that my Tita Bebing is fast slipping away. She had been battling lung cancer since last year.

Then it dawned on me that no matter how well I am able to fix some things, sometimes, what I care about most gets all used up and goes away - never to return. No amount of extenders can hold them anymore, there ain't glue available to keep them still. They will be cut off from my life and the distance is much farther than the farthest point on this earth. I cannot pretend that they just left temporarily and expect them to come home sooner or later. Instead, I can only hope to join them someday.

So, I figure that while I have my nucleus of a family, my old and new-found friends, my pet cat, and those other things that mean much to me, then it’s best that I love them, and care for them, and fix them when they're broken and heal them when they're sick. Not only because they need it, or because I want it, but because it's all worth it.