Pighati

“I’m in Manila since Thursday.”

I was surprised. But it was not the kind of surprise I usually like. He’s not supposed to be here, well, at least not yet. But he’s here. He flew for more than five thousand miles just to be here. Now.

The moment I received his message I rushed to his place. It was a three hour ride but I didn’t mind. I wanted to see him. I wanted to comfort him.

He was smiling when he saw me. But I saw traces of exhaustion, of sadness, of grief. But he’s strong. Mind you, he’s really strong.

“I’m scared.” He told me.

How do you respond to this? How do you console a grieving friend? Should you say everything’s going to be alright? Should you tell him you feel his grief?

When words are not enough, presence becomes powerful. No need to rationalize it, no need to say words of comfort. Just be there. Just be still.

I stayed overnight, pulling off an all-nighter to watch over the wake. He was fooling around with his Iphone while I was browsing through his travel photos. He cursed, he asked, he chewed his words and biscuits and waited for Siri to respond.

“Loser”, he told Siri while chewing the last bit of chips

“You there” appeared on the screen. Siri apparently took the word wrongly.

“Wherever you are is where I am”. Siri’s soft voice became unusually comforting.

We froze. That’s the only thing he wanted to hear that time. The only thing that matters — the reassurance that wherever he is, she will be there.

“Thanks, Mom”. He whispered.

We smiled, relishing the godly moment we just experienced.

“You will see something familiar over there”. He realized while we were sitting outside, fighting against the chilly wind and drowsiness.

I glanced, trying really hard not to see her inside the thing but to just see what he meant.

There it was, the rosary I gave him before he left eight months ago, the rosary I hold very dear as it was a gift of my Father from his travel in the Holy See. There it was, sitting idly with the image of the Virgin Mary.

“I was holding it the whole time I was travelling.” He mused.

When things turn out beyond our control, we can do nothing more but to surrender, to lift it up, to have faith that someone up there knows the plan and he will not abandon us. Yes, it’s difficult to grasp in the beginning. But slowly, gently, lightly, it will be better.

You have loved. You have lost. Now you have to love again. In a different form. For a different reason.

But remember, just love.