August 21, 2011-
I was supposed to attend Sam's (my high school friend) 18th birthday celebration. Her birthday's really August 18, but the celebration's last Sunday. However, something came up. My tito Boying (my granfather's junior in mama's side) has been confined in Antipolo Doctors Hospital and since my father wouldn't be able to accompany my mother to visit him, I did. I was actually glad that I've made this choice because I discovered that some drinking's involved in that party. Though I would love to celebrate with them and be there for my friend on her day, I know that it wouldn't be a good atmosphere.
I never felt that depressed whenever I'm at hospitals. In novels that I've read, they described such place as dreadful, with death lurking at every corner. The only unpleasant thing I've noticed about hospitals is their smell. It smells like rust and some chemicals. Moments ago, I would gladly agree to the dreadful feeling hospitals emit but then, my mind's other side argued that that's not all there is. Life is also celebrated in hospitals: birth, success in operations and surgeries, etc.
Our visit went well. He's doing great physically though he still needs some tests. He couldn't recognize us though and he would only respond to my Aunt Lucy's (his wife) words. He likes to hold something in his hand for him to squeeze. Most of the time, it would be our hands. By the end of our visit, I was the one holding his hands and tending him while the adults are talking. I then realized that I've hadn't known most of my relatives by heart. I sat there, him squeezing my hands thinking that I've never known my own blood and roots. The least I could do is stay beside him and smile at him whenever he looks at me intently. The way he's squeezing my hand is really comforting: a soothing massage that he unconsciously did on my both hands. The situation would have looked funny on the surface but a hard cold fact is right in front of my eyes. I feel so sad about my uncle's situation as well as his family and knowing that we could not help them financially but through our sincerest prayers. Its depressing. It keeps my mom up all night, probably thinking over these things and among other problems too. My other relatives are hurting as well. My aunt is even willing to give him up now, if God willed it to be. I know that he share the same views as well. During our entire visit, all he says is: "Hallelujah! Praise you Lord Jesus!". I think this is some kind of plea but I think it means surrender to His will as well and an expression of gratitude. I know that if God willed it to be, we all have to accept it. But I still hope that soon, I would find myself celebrating life in the hospital.