Sunday, July 27, 2008 Luab: The pain of saying goodbye By Evelyn R. Luab light sunday
WHEN students graduate from high school, it is painful for them to remove themselves from their comfort zone of four years. We all say that the high school years are the best years of our lives. Can you blame them for shedding tears on graduation night?
When we give away a son or daughter in marriage, there is a poignant ache in the heart. We are happy that they have found their soul mates but at the same time we ache at the thought that the journey they have chosen is one where we can no longer be by their side. It will be someone else who will hold their hand.
When a husband leaves a wife, or vise versa, for another person the pain is great because not only do we (the aggrieved party) feel the loss of a presence dear to us but we also feel betrayed and cheated.
When a spouse is taken to his resting place we feel sad. We know that this has to be and yet we wish that the time had not yet come. For a length of time we keep on searching for a face so dear to us, a familiar tread up the staircase and a familiar smell peculiar to him alone.
When a soldier leaves for the battlefield we are so afraid that he will not come back. While he is at the battlefield, we get visions of bullets whizzing by and finally finding its mark on the forehead of our beloved.
When a child leaves for abroad to look for greener pastures we are happy. However, the realization sets in that for a person in a strange land there are so many dangers that lurk about. The stories of white slavery or murder for insurance money have been floating around for sometime now. The pain is coupled with fear.
When the patient goes to be admitted into a hospital, we ache with so much anxiety. Will he get well? Will we have enough money to help him yet well? Will his heart survive the rigors bought about by hospital anxiety? What about stories of viruses caught in hospitals? Will we see him back home again?
Ever since a friend of mine died in a sea mishap, whenever I send off a relative or a close friend at the pier, my heart aches for the dangers that possible typhoons might bring.
The phrase hangang pier lang (up to the pier only) could mean that the goodbye could end there. I suppose I have become paranoid.
Actually the hardest goodbye I witnessed was when my aunt had to take care of her mother. Her mother was comatose for a good number of months after a stroke. My aunt Socorro took very, very good care of her mom, bathing her daily, turning her from side to side to avoid bed sores. After six months of doing all her ministrations, my other aunt, Asela, a doctor, told Socorro to whisper into her mom’s ear that it was all right for her to rest. It was all right for her mom to go to her Maker because Asela would take care of my first aunt.
I was there as aunt Socorro, with tears falling all over the pillow, cuddled her mom in her arms and said: "It’s time for you to leave me. Let's say goodbye for now." All of us around could not help but feel her pain.
I recently had to say goodbye to a helper of 10 years who took very good care of my late husband. She also took care of me while I was admitted to the hospital twice. She got married and her husband did not want her to work anymore. I cried when I hugged her as she left for her new home.
All of us have at one time or another had to say goodbye. It is with great sympathy that we commiserate with relatives of the victims whose lives were snuffed before they could say goodbye. The pain must be greater. We pray for you and lift your pain to the Giver of Solace — our God.
