Simple Thoughts of Mine

Archive for the ‘emotionally me’ Category

Heroes are the people who sacrifice for the welfare of others.  Thats the meaning of hero for me.  And nowadays, I see some people I really admire because they’re sacrificing for others benefit.   Let site the chaos happened in Egypt.  Former President Hosni Mubarak is a hero for me.  He sacrificed his position to have peace in his country.  Another are the people who helped the people in Japan after the earthquake and the tsunami.  I saw new heroines in the person of the 4 nurses who didn’t leave Japan because they can’t leave their patients.  They sacrifice their lives for the benefits of their patients.  And also the people who fight the fire atop of the nuclear power plant in Fukushima.  They know the risk of the radiation and the possible blasting of the plant but still they’re there to control the fire.

There are still lots of unmentioned people here, REAL HEROES.  Thinking of their loved ones whose praying for their safety and wanting to see them again made me emotional.   I don’t know if I can do the same thing.  Really.. can’t tell if I can be a hero to other people aside from my family.  That’s why I really admire these people whose taking their own risks to save other people’s lives.  Mabuhay kayo!

Pictures courtesy of yahoo.com and google.com

My Tatay just got home from a 4-day confinement at Marikina St. VincentHospital due to his malnourishment.  He became one because he refuses to eat.  He was given bags of dextrose, vitamins and medicines.  He recovered so fast as he eats solid foods now.  Before the confinement he eats only banana (which you have to grind well before you give him) and milk.

Just thought of sharing this very touching story…

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.   After waiting a few minutes I walked to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice.  I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened.  A small woman in her 90′s stood before me.  She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940′s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase.  The apartment looked as if no one had
lived in it for years.  All the furniture was covered with sheets.  There were no
clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said.  I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.  She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness.  ’It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’  ’Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said.  When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked,  ’Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way, ‘I answered quickly..  ’Oh, I don’t mind, ‘she said. ‘I’m in no hurry.  I’m on my way to a hospice.  I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.  ’I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft
voice..  ’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.  For the next two hours, we drove through the city.  She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds.  She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and
would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.  As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.  It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.  Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.  They were Solicitous and intent, watching her every move.  They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.  ’How much do I owe you?’  She asked, reaching into her purse.  ’Nothing,  ’I said.  ’You have to make a living,’ she answered.  ’There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.  She held onto me tightly.
‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said.  ’Thank you.’

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.  It was the sound of the closing of a life..  I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift.  I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.  What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?  What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.  We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.  But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said ~but~ they will always remember  how you made them feel.

My Tatay (father) just celebrated his 78th birthday last Sunday (March 21, 2010).  We had a small party for immediate family member.  I brought cake and softdrinks, my eldest brother a rice cake, my other brother a beefsteak and my mom with PenPen cooked pancit palabok and shrimp in tamarind base soup which is Tatay’s favorite.  I saw a big smile from Tatay as he sang his birthday song repeatedly with his grandchildren.:D  I felt blissful somehow that he enjoyed his day, despite of his early second childhood due to his diabetes.  He even asked me some questions like what are the reasons for hair loss because he noticed that he is balding. Hahahahaha….

But I am glad that my father is getting better now when before he almost lost his memory.  Can you just imagine that he cannot recollect our names except from my mother.  But with his illness he proved that he really love this woman in his life.  That inspite of his short memory loss, he never forgot her name.  Is that what you call true love? Mmmmmm…. So sweet.