September 21, 1978, that is my birthday, the genesis of my history and the beginning of everything. Since I lost the womb-world security, I started crying for care, attention, and recognition, which formed into a deprivation triggered by the situation where I was in. I knew how much we were loved by our parents but their love was not expressed according to my needs. Perhaps because my state of concern as a child was far different from theirs. I wanted tender loving care and attention, but they gave me not only strict but “stick” discipline. True enough that became the source of my feeling of insecurity. Yet through the course of time I was able to survive and learned that life had to go on. Henceforth, I longed to be “up there”, to be recognized, respected and treated well.
I was a little boy then when I saw a guy doing something inside the chapel in front of the people. Every time he speaks, people listened intensely to him. He was “up there”, recognized, respected, and cared for. Alas! I said to myself, “I want to become like him someday.”
“I want to become like him” was very real to me not knowing that this person who was a priest, had vows of humility and simplicity which were quite opposite to my motives. Obviously, what I was conscious of was just about meeting my needs.
Through the years of struggles, the desire became more intense so much that I grew being persistent and determined. I chose not to entertain the difficulties of life hoping that there was glory assigned for me “there”. Everything that appeared along the way was considered a mess, a block, and a hindrance towards my desire. I preferred to set them aside instead of facing or recognizing them. I never acknowledged my true motives, their impurities, and their self-preserving nature. Instead, I boasted proclaiming nothing other than that of staying behind the walls of the seminary. I enjoyed complying with the structures laid because I benefited out of them, and of course, they satisfied my self-preserving needs. Indeed, I was recognized and treated well.
February 12, 2000, two days before the feast of St Valentine which is commonly known as the Valentine’s Day, things changed. I received a message from home about my father’s critical health and surprisingly on the very day of Valentines, he was diagnosed and found to be afflicted with Cancer. I stopped trying to realize my doings; I almost couldn’t believe it. I rubbed my eyes, slapped my face hoping that everything was just a dream and I wanted to wake up. I was very much alarmed of the term “cancer” because to me it was synonymous with “death.” The truth was I could not accept that the person for whom I worked my best in order to be recognized would soon perish. For this I realized that there was a little boy inside me who never grew up but keep longing for care and recognition from his own father. It means that the reason of every single effort to be up there was merely a thirst for a simple recognition. Thus, everything then turned dark as if all were void of meaning. My energy subsided and I lost courage to go on with my life. I felt I was dropped into a muddy field, heavy rain poured down around me, everywhere was dark, and the whole place was conquered by the noise of unyielding raindrops. I knew that soon Death would visit my family, and consequently my own death. My father would die, the man whose life was offered for us. To be recognized by him was my sole inspiration to continue living. During the night, I tried to escape but the more I drove myself away, the more it disturbed me.
Finally the moment, which I feared most, came. My father breathed his last on the 5th of June 2000 in front of me. At that moment, I wanted him to stay longer with me, I wanted him to speak more to me, I wanted him to hug me and I wanted him…to become alive! But death triumphed over his life. His last long and deep breathing was never heard again. It was a clear sign that Tatay’s existence and history finally ended. It wasn’t that easy at all but perhaps God was contented with the life of my father and perhaps he has fulfilled the reason of his existence, are the thoughts that I found a bit consoling but I was greatly affected…the cross was too heavy for me to carry.
At first, I was thinking of leaving the seminary with the following reasons “what is my vocation for? What is it for to move forward without any purpose at all? My father is dead so no more!” But God really works in His own ways; He used that very death of my father as an instrument of a real call. It was a call that caused the life of someone very dear to me. I wanted to hate God and I wish I can but the pain inside my heart pushed me into the limit of asking the very reason of my existence: What is it that I am here for? I passed so many troubled nights and the well of tears never dries. I was mourning. And it was in that very agony of my heart and soul that I found myself engage with the man hanging on the cross. It dawned on me that his life never ends in death but rather finds its new beginning. His death on the cross gives meaning to the words he lives and because of that he has overcome death in order to give hope to those who are hopeless and faith to those who don’t believe. He made sense out of his suffering! And so, I have seen that life will still go on even without my father and I have my own life to live, cultivate and develop. It is mine, I will be the one to live, and I will be the one who would decide for it. Perhaps, there is still life inside the seminary if I would give a try and go on. And so I decided to proceed.
Leaving my family behind in the midst of grieving was not an easy thing to do. I knew how painful it was to let go of the loss of a beloved father, the first experience of death in the family. When I came back to the seminary three days after the burial, it was for me an emancipation from my self-preserving motives. It was a new birth and a new life. My selfish motives in entering the seminary died together with Tatay. I have seen that experience as God’s mysterious act of burning my selfish desire. I was made free! Now, as I looked at the crucified Christ hanging on the cross, my thought of His suffering became true to my own experience of dying. Indeed, I have my share of his cross. I can now take up my own cross and follow him.
I was a little boy then when I saw a guy doing something inside the chapel in front of the people. Every time he speaks, people listened intensely to him. He was “up there”, recognized, respected, and cared for. Alas! I said to myself, “I want to become like him someday.”
“I want to become like him” was very real to me not knowing that this person who was a priest, had vows of humility and simplicity which were quite opposite to my motives. Obviously, what I was conscious of was just about meeting my needs.
Through the years of struggles, the desire became more intense so much that I grew being persistent and determined. I chose not to entertain the difficulties of life hoping that there was glory assigned for me “there”. Everything that appeared along the way was considered a mess, a block, and a hindrance towards my desire. I preferred to set them aside instead of facing or recognizing them. I never acknowledged my true motives, their impurities, and their self-preserving nature. Instead, I boasted proclaiming nothing other than that of staying behind the walls of the seminary. I enjoyed complying with the structures laid because I benefited out of them, and of course, they satisfied my self-preserving needs. Indeed, I was recognized and treated well.
February 12, 2000, two days before the feast of St Valentine which is commonly known as the Valentine’s Day, things changed. I received a message from home about my father’s critical health and surprisingly on the very day of Valentines, he was diagnosed and found to be afflicted with Cancer. I stopped trying to realize my doings; I almost couldn’t believe it. I rubbed my eyes, slapped my face hoping that everything was just a dream and I wanted to wake up. I was very much alarmed of the term “cancer” because to me it was synonymous with “death.” The truth was I could not accept that the person for whom I worked my best in order to be recognized would soon perish. For this I realized that there was a little boy inside me who never grew up but keep longing for care and recognition from his own father. It means that the reason of every single effort to be up there was merely a thirst for a simple recognition. Thus, everything then turned dark as if all were void of meaning. My energy subsided and I lost courage to go on with my life. I felt I was dropped into a muddy field, heavy rain poured down around me, everywhere was dark, and the whole place was conquered by the noise of unyielding raindrops. I knew that soon Death would visit my family, and consequently my own death. My father would die, the man whose life was offered for us. To be recognized by him was my sole inspiration to continue living. During the night, I tried to escape but the more I drove myself away, the more it disturbed me.
Finally the moment, which I feared most, came. My father breathed his last on the 5th of June 2000 in front of me. At that moment, I wanted him to stay longer with me, I wanted him to speak more to me, I wanted him to hug me and I wanted him…to become alive! But death triumphed over his life. His last long and deep breathing was never heard again. It was a clear sign that Tatay’s existence and history finally ended. It wasn’t that easy at all but perhaps God was contented with the life of my father and perhaps he has fulfilled the reason of his existence, are the thoughts that I found a bit consoling but I was greatly affected…the cross was too heavy for me to carry.
At first, I was thinking of leaving the seminary with the following reasons “what is my vocation for? What is it for to move forward without any purpose at all? My father is dead so no more!” But God really works in His own ways; He used that very death of my father as an instrument of a real call. It was a call that caused the life of someone very dear to me. I wanted to hate God and I wish I can but the pain inside my heart pushed me into the limit of asking the very reason of my existence: What is it that I am here for? I passed so many troubled nights and the well of tears never dries. I was mourning. And it was in that very agony of my heart and soul that I found myself engage with the man hanging on the cross. It dawned on me that his life never ends in death but rather finds its new beginning. His death on the cross gives meaning to the words he lives and because of that he has overcome death in order to give hope to those who are hopeless and faith to those who don’t believe. He made sense out of his suffering! And so, I have seen that life will still go on even without my father and I have my own life to live, cultivate and develop. It is mine, I will be the one to live, and I will be the one who would decide for it. Perhaps, there is still life inside the seminary if I would give a try and go on. And so I decided to proceed.
Leaving my family behind in the midst of grieving was not an easy thing to do. I knew how painful it was to let go of the loss of a beloved father, the first experience of death in the family. When I came back to the seminary three days after the burial, it was for me an emancipation from my self-preserving motives. It was a new birth and a new life. My selfish motives in entering the seminary died together with Tatay. I have seen that experience as God’s mysterious act of burning my selfish desire. I was made free! Now, as I looked at the crucified Christ hanging on the cross, my thought of His suffering became true to my own experience of dying. Indeed, I have my share of his cross. I can now take up my own cross and follow him.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire