Coming Home

It’s been quite a long road that I have traveled and to discover that the path I’ve so long searched only leads to where my journey started, home.

I stood at the old bridge leading back to my little hometown, that same spot I stood the day I left three years ago. I slowly dropped my dusty backpack that I was carrying all along and for the first time after long years of being gone from this place I just recalled its beauty that hasn’t change much. I rolled my sleeves as I lightly touched that same rusty old metal bridge and slowly leaned myself for a rest. I just watched the river rise and rush under me as the sun slowly hid among the gathered dark clouds above me. As the first drop of rain fell on my face then follows another till it has taken its toll, so as every drop of memory both happy and sad comes flashing back on me again. I sighed as the gentle wind brushed on my watered clothes chilling yet soothing. I remember how my brother and I love the rain, the bridge, the river, the freedom and the simple life we had in this little hometown.

Gary, my best buddy and my younger brother had been my constant protégée since childhood. Life wasn’t easy for us when our mama got sick because of hypertension and had to be confined in the hospital for months, I was sixteen and my brother was thirteen then. Our fearful young spirits weren’t prepared from such challenge and we were like two entities trying to comprehend the abrupt changes in our world. Two of my older sisters got married earlier and have to leave us for their new family. Our eldest sister took the responsibility of attending to my mother’s needs, she never got married eventually. Papa’s income from driving his taxicab wasn’t enough to buy mama’s hospital expenses and medicines. My brother and I were still in school; I am about to enter college while he was still in high school.

It was one of the darkest moments in my life, that day when I hurriedly rushed up to the stairs of the hospital and into that little room where my mama was confined. She had a stroke, half of her body was paralyzed, she lost her voice, and the doctor said a nerve in her brain was damaged affecting her vocal chords. This isn’t the first time though she had a stroke; a year ago she was also confined due to a mild stroke. But this time, I’m so afraid that she’d give in. I gently opened the door and walked towards her, she was asleep. My older sister was there and asked me to stay because she had to buy mama’s medicine and so I stayed. I sat right beside her bed and little by little I held her hand tightly then she slowly tried to open her teary eyes as they manage to look at mine. She was struggling to say something but can’t, then I just descended my face on to her subtle hand as my tears began to flow like rivers.

My helplessness drew me closer to God like never before and then I realized that I needed Him more than ever. With my newfound hope and source of strength, I began to look at life in a different perspective. Just like me, my brother found his strength in God too. But God has His own way of refining the gold in us, our faith in Him were tested more often than not.

For the succeeding years we struggled to hold on and get through with life like there’s always a bright light behind these dark clouds, after these great storm the rainbow will extend its beauty, with all these sufferings awaits the glory, with all these trying yet losing in the end we shall win, and all of our lives tragic stories what lies ahead is a happy ending.

But every time we watch our dear mother slowly succumbed to her disease it was like us dying every single moment of it. With the thought that maybe tomorrow or any given day we could lose her it was like we don’t want to end any single day at all. “Why does she have to suffer this way?” I asked God. My heart suddenly gave in and I ran away. For three years I thought of finding my freedom somewhere away from home but I never did. My search was indeed in vain for I know that I have already found the truth. I was just conquered by my fears at one point in my life.

I looked back at the river and its all calm now but the rain’s still pouring on me. I took and raise my backpack on to my shoulders and watched the long road ahead of me. I’m coming home and whatever awaits me there I will now gallantly tackle. That’s what really counts for me now, God gave them to fulfill his will in me and I must take them boldly with all my heart.

As I am about to take my first step towards home I hear a voice whispering behind the back of my head, saying: “What if behind these dark clouds it gets even darker? After this great storm it gets even stronger? With all of these sufferings you still will shiver? With all of these trying and failing there’s nothing but still losing? And with all of life’s tragic stories there isn’t a happy ending?”

I walked my way towards home and I smiled as I said to myself “this world may be cruel, but not in my real home!”

***written on May 18, 2003 Sunday***