IT WAS 40 years ago when I entered kindergarten at the age of six; walking from our home and then arriving in school as early as 6:15 a.m. every day. Then I would sit on a bench near the front gate, watching other kids accompanied by their parents. I wonder how it felt to hug their parents as they entered the school.
Years have gone by but at times, I also hear my classmates talk about their family escapades on Saturdays and Sundays. I know that I also have my sister Ann and brother Dave, but most of the time, we are apart. So, I grew up independently; although I have many friends, I feel alone at night. Hence, it became my habit to stay on the rooftop watching the stars, and I always found myself crying inside. But only the stars can hear my heart out loud.
What a sad encounter to have separated parents. Ahh...I remember becoming very close to our old neighbor when I reached Grade four. She became like my “nanay” since my mom worked abroad, and with her care, I thought I would no longer be alone. But sometimes life is not so fair; the “nanay” who became my only hope need to give me up, which would mean living life again so empty. And again, only the stars can see me cry.
Oh, the following years were like hell. In February, I am scared the most. Valentines’ day is my dad’s birthday, and I must attend the event. How do I celebrate it when I cannot fake smiling? How do I greet my father, who is very supportive of my education, when I cannot just speak to him because I do not want him to see that I am broken since I was born? God knows, in my heart, I love Dad, but he was so distant to me. But only the stars can feel my eagerness to be near Dad.
I learned not to remember so much about special dates like birthdays. Before I knew my sisters’ and brothers’ special days, I even counted when it was coming. But when it came, I did not see them home nor even hear their steps until the night ended. I guess they also forgot they have their little sister, waiting for them to join me watching the stars above. But only the stars can understand my longingness to see their shadows.
Even pre-Christmas, I constantly changed the Christmas music on the radio that plays as early as October. And then I started to become numb as if I could not hear the melody. How do I sing when I cannot fake enjoying it? God, Christmas was like a day for me to choose between my Dad and Mom, the hardest thing to do. I guess what makes it difficult is when your father pleads for you to stay and then you know your mother is also waiting or vice-versa.
I suppose I am stronger now because I have experienced a bleeding heart longing for love. Thus, I pray to God that my children would never suffer the life I had, and for others too. For now, I hope to live longer and continue to help those who are lost, needy, and in pain. I have been listening to those who felt the same when I was younger. I stay with those whose lives are miserable, and I can unconditionally stay with someone at their worst.
Ahh... I am thankful for the past hurts that gave me the energy to love more every day. I guess beauty is sometimes born of pain.