Trip to Reality

I had long postponed this trip. Not because I found the city less beautiful than the others. I actually have loved this city since childhood. Most of my summer vacations were spent here enjoying the countryside scenes and the company of my cousins. But lately, I have been afraid to go back. Afraid of the changes I shall see. Not of the city streets and sceneries – they have remained largely the same over the years – but changes I will see in people.

As I child, my heart would jump everytime I hear the word “Cavite.” It means that I will again pay a visit to my lola’s house. That I will have a taste of her delicious tinola, her crunchy fried chicken and her mouth-watering cordon. That I will play with my cousins at the well, where we douse each other with its cold water then hear our lola’s loud voice telling us to stop all our mischief. At night, we stay at her sala, hiding from the bats that come out after dark, and just listen to stories of her youth – of how she loved playing the piano, how she enjoyed fiestas and won for herself a beauty queen title in their barangay.

That was then. Now there is a stark change in the image I see. The hands that once nimbly glided through the piano keyboard now cannot even hold a spoon to feed herself. The voice that strongly but lovingly scolded us for all our mischief has grown faint. The youth in Barangay San Antonio’s former beauty queen seems to have vanished, and turned into a thin and frail figure lying on a bed all day.

Sometimes reality strikes hard at you. I shiver at the thought that many years ago, this woman was once like me – attending parties, developing her talents, joining competitions -- experiencing all that life has to offer, only to come to a point of total dependence on the people around her. More so at the thought that I, too, may come to a point in my life when my eyes will no longer feast on the magnificence of the sunrise or on the smiles of my loved ones; when my feet will not anymore take me trekking up mountainslopes, or down the street toward a friend's house; when my hands can no longer play the piano or sketch a picture or write a poem.

I have long denied this reality. A lot of us do. We live our lives as if there is no tomorrow. As if none of us will ever grow old. As if time will stand still for us. Well, it never did. And it never will. Each tick of the clock brings us closer to the reality that we all must face: our mortality.

But despite the weakening of her body, I noticed my lola still had the spark and the spirit she always possessed throughout the years. Her eyes, no matter how weak they have grown, still sparkled when she hears our voice calling her name. Her smile, which would have won her the beauty title in her teenage years, is even more beautiful at this age, for with it comes the many joyful days she spent with her children, and her children’s children. And her soft voice can still utter the usual wit and sarcasm that is typical of lola, eliciting tons of laughter from those around her.

I’m glad I made that trip. Though I had to face that harsh reality about our humanity, I also encountered one glorious truth: that beyond the frailty of our bodies, is an eternal spirit. I had a glimpse of that spirit in my lola. Indeed, there is promise of eternity. And on that promise I rest.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time,
He has also set eternity in the hearts of men;
yet they cannot fathom what God has done
from beginning to end."
Ecclesiastes 3:11