Catharsis
August 16, 2007<column title>
Miracle Exhange
< title>
Catharsis
<byline>
Armon Perez Tolentino
<body text>
As the soft gentle winds that roamed around the boughs were to rustle the resting leaves, inside the rough, cement-finished house was the glow of flickering candle. Though not enough, behind that almond-shaped light was the clearly kind face of a mother with eyes agleam after a prayer. Before she hid her tears, her eldest had already seen them. As if the scene didn't happen, she proceeded to her youngest—a daughter she considered a miracle gift from God. She covered her till the chest with a blanket. She smiled. On she went to her workplace. This 4:00 a.m. routine, known to all four of her children, built the inspiration for a familial epic with much courage and ceaseless sacrifice.
In another distant part of the globe, the highways were wide but with very few cars running on. Camels were apparently fearless as they crossed roads by impulse like some sultanate royals. From these lanes, a father arrived at his apartment at 10:00 p.m. Panting like a horse among other Filipinos, he shared his hi's and hello's and headed on to his room. This man might have not knelt in prayer for years but the sighs of his heart's desires were known to God. It was time again to listen to voice cassette tapes. Old ones that never faded. These voices that tickled his ears and heightened his aspirations; especially the one that sounded like an angel—the miracle voice for him—the voice of his "only girl." Oh, it was time again to look at pictures that archived how his children grew. Kissed these pictures. Hugged them. Dreamed with them. After two hours of drowning himself in the sea of "his life-giving curios," the laundry must be started. Twelve midnight was the time when practically life for himself alone would begin.
They were a husband and a wife whose challenge was to build a home, despite the ebb and flow of enormous waters between them. With this plot, the reel of their lives rolled while reading the script that can be described as a miraculous life.
"Tay. . ." A deeply emotional silence followed that syllable of endearment while her hand shook as she held the cellular phone. "Nay, how are. . . you?" Having a hint that a big challenge was at hand, the excitement slowly turned to worry and the loudness of his lungs to a waning voice. He added, "There seems to be a problem. What is it?"
"Aiza. . .," she hesitatingly replied.
"Aiza? What about Aiza? I miss our little baby so badly."
"We rushed her to the hospital." Again, these agonizing halts in her speech. Shivering in confusion rather than pain, hardly could she utter her next words, ". . . at. . . at Sa. . . Saint Patrick’s Hoossss. . . pi-ta-l. I. . . I. . . don't know what to do." Then these sobs that only those who saw could imagine.
"Calm down, Nay. God will help…" This man who last remembered God in time lost in memory had just mumbled 'God.' "What illness? Tell the doctors to do everything! Mo-money is not a problem. Well, I don't really have. . . but. . . there are many sure ways of. . ." He was trying to be composed but it was proven hard.
"Two at a time!" Words were painfully told as tears flowed in their own volition. "DENGUE and TYPHOID! I pity the young body of our six year old! I could get sick right now so she could be well! May God hear this! If you could only see how many needles are forced into her skin right now…." Goodbyes might have not been uttered well when. . .
"Inay, inay," a peevish but apparently hopeful voice looked for a mother. Everyone in that room, man or woman, wanted to rush to her and be the mother she was looking for. Tears and much emotions must be kept and controlled for bravery was indispensable.
Swallowing the sizeable lumps in her throat, Modesta forced her tongue to speak with strength. She breathed. "Yes, anak. Aiza, I love you, anak. What do you need? Is there anything you want?"
With eyes pointing to nowhere, "Inay, can't you see the white clouds before us? It's so nice to see them. I want to play. . ."
Modesta looked at her sister-in-law, Teodora. Teodora just told her by mere lip movement, "Be strong!" She then shifted her eyes to her daughter and said, "Aiza, get well. Fight! Fight for energy and then when you have it, you can play. And. . . and be happy with Kuya Mon, Kuya JR, Kuya Chie, inay, and tatay!"
"Really? But no, inay! He said I should say no. I want to play with him."
"Who is he?"
"He is there in the clouds. Can't you see him?”
Modesta looked at her sister-in-law again,
"Ate Teodora. . . ."
The child continued, "He is inviting me to go with him. He said it is a beautiful and peaceful place. I will not feel pain like now. Will I go with him, Inay?"
Being the mother, Modesta didn't know how to react. She held the arms of her Ate Teodora and kept her cry from getting noticed. "No, don't go with him. Don't give up. You can play with him someday but not now. Now, you just need to get well as soon as possible because many people are waiting for you back home. They will all be happy! Fight for life, ineng. Fight for life." Compelled by the situation, Teodora spoke.
After a little more than a day. . .
"Ate Teodora, Ate Teodora! Come quickly!"
"Why?" "Look at Aiza! Hurry!"
"I'm coming! I'm coming! Calm down!"
"Ate, her. . . her hands are blue-violet and her nails, almost black!" Stuck at this part only, she continued, "I suddenly woke up and saw. . ."
"Oh my God! Her eyes. . . her face. . . . Nurse, nurse, please call Dr. Comia!"
"Yes, ma'am!”
"Mrs. Tolentino, we have to transfer Modessa to St. Luke’s Hospital." "Doctor, will she be fine? Is there any chance? Please. . . "
"We will do everything possible. But we cannot maintain her here. St. Luke’s is the best option. We need your decision." And so many fears wracked her sanity and she couldn't think well now. Modesta was no more than just a breathing piece staring at nothingness.
"Mrs. Tolentino?"
"Yes, Doctor. We will take her. . ." Teodora answered. This, despite her knowledge of a very slim chance to life for Aiza. The speed of the ambulance was the speed of the twisting events in the lives of the people involved. Phones rang in lands apart almost without break and end. Prayers seemed to last forever as uttered without any single count missed. With one thought, "Please save you miracle gift to us," and many promises. Doors of dreams shut and opened. Weak ones in faith strengthened. Sleeping ones awakened. Until more than a million angels' voices were heard saying, "Your daughter is safe. Unbelievably a second life for her. She can go home after all the cleansing is done." It must have been God's hands. It must have been a miracle that saved another miracle!
Arturo and Modesta. Saudi Arabia and Philippines. Two souls physically adrift due to the lands where they were, so much so that a living might be assured. Bound by the promise that God wouldn't take back a gift for the mere reason of forgetfulness. The more than a million angels must be singing again after nine years, now that Modessa Perez Tolentino—the miracle gift, the only daughter, the last child—marched this March 30, 2007 with success to get her high school diploma. Perhaps these parents might have asked themselves, "What is a miracle?" and undoubtedly delivered, "A miracle is Modessa! Dear, dear Aiza who is an instrument on how God grants purging of emotions as He frees us from the intensity of our distresses and makes us completely alleviated!" "Congratulations, ineng! Let's go home, celebrate and give thanks!"
<column description>
Miracle stories in short story format.
All comments are moderated. Your comments will not appear here unless approved by the blog owner. Thank you.
