F and M and G

I received a phone call in the wee hours of the evening from my mother. I preferred not to entertain it; I thought if it was serious, I would have received numerous call attempts. But that missed call happened only once. So I just filed the worries away.

I thank God for facebook. My mom did not have enough credits for a long distance talk, but there was free wi-fi connection in the hospital. I was informed of my father's medical condition through this powerful social network.

Immediately after learning about the situation, I talked to my father. In the span of two words he stopped in his track, his construction chapped, his voice cracked. The gravity of the situation had finally settled within me, and in the middle of my lunch, I broke into tears.

There was blood in his stool since last week. He kept the occurrence to himself. It recurred on Thursday. On a normal night, just as soon as he reaches home, my father sojourns to his room, changes his clothes, and in the span of five minutes, his big heavy steps conquer the stairs and the kitchen floor. But on Thursday, he was particularly taking his time. More than 15 minutes expired, the familiar sounds on the wooden staircase was inaudible. My mom got worried.

She dashed into his room. There, my father, instead of filling his physical hunger, prioritized his bedtime and took a nap. The abnormality of his actions worried my mom. After probing, my father confessed. He was rushed to the hospital the same night.

Upon hearing the news, and how concealment of fear and emotion seemed an impossible task for my father, worst scenarios started to fill my cup up to the brim. It consumed me. I immediately contacted my church community to solicit prayers. A comforting string of prayers in different forms formed a bouquet of offering to God. I guess it might have been deafening to Him, and the only escape is to grant it affirmatively. On Saturday, nightmares evaporated like a smoke in the chimney. They only found ulcers in his tummy. I prefer this over anything.

I guess the highlight of this experience pinpoints to his release from the bondage of the hospital walls, and his guilt. My mother shared with me how my father shed tears, held her hand, and uttered the sincerest apologies her ears have ever heard. Good things happen even in the darkest of days. A divine coincidence, since I discussed the Sacrament of Reconciliation to my catechism class today. And a beautiful reconciliation transpired in that part of the world. God operates mysteriously. He improvises and uses situations and overturns it as a result. Making us feel blessed somehow. I know I am. :)