One Last Wonderful Day

Friday night, I was at the LRT Recto station waiting for the next train to Santolan when I saw a woman carrying a child on her arms. She was talking with the security guards and though I’m not really interested in what they were talking about, I had an earshot of their conversation because I’m only a few steps away from them. The lady with the child said: “Sabi kasi nila patay na, e nasa palengke pa ako nun kaya nagmadali na lang ako umuwi, tapos nung dumating ako dumilat pa sya, kaya heto dinala ko agad.” I was intrigued so I looked again at the child who I barely noticed when I arrived there. I was taken aback by the sight of the little girl on the woman’s arms. The child is really, and I mean really, thin. How thin? Put your two fingers together and you’re already having a glimpse of her arm. I’m not being pessimistic here when I say that that child would only have but a few months to live with the kind of body she has. I turned my eyes away from the unbearable display of life’s reality and preoccupied my mind with other thoughts. I don’t want to stare a long time like what other people did. By staring at the mother and child, they thought they could show that they care, but I think watching people in such pitiful condition only shows the incapability of most of us to offer a help that is really needed because we conceive sympathy as a valuable aid when in fact it is not. I always refuse to sympathize, believing that I’m only allowing one to go for a dip in a drowning pool of self-pity when I try to commiserate. Anyway, thank God it’s already the last station and I managed not to look at the subject of murmurs and stares in the train. I decided to let the others go first to avoid having the glimpse of that little girl, but when I was about to go down the stairs, I saw the little girl. She saw me too. Our eyes met. I turned my back because my eyes welled with tears. I couldn’t control the crying. I cried not because I pitied her frail body or because of the idea that one mother will lose a child anytime soon. I cried because I didn’t see any sign of unhappiness or pain in the child’s eyes. I’m not saying that she was otherwise, but I think what I saw was acceptance of fate, that she is ready to let go.

I entitled this “One Last Wonderful Day” because that’s what I prayed to God for them. I asked Him to give the child one last wonderful day here on earth before He decides to carry the child on his loving arms up in heaven.