How would you express love to your parent, spouse or child diagnosed of a terminal disease and has but a short time to live? On the other hand, how does one reciprocate by denying personal fear and pain while patiently waiting for the final hour?
I am reprinting this article in the midst of increasing number of coronavirus cases worldwide, now in its third year, come 2022.
All of us in one way or the other has experienced fear of losing a loved one because of a disease or extreme risk in profession.
It may come as a shock and there's so little time to compress so to speak, the opportunity to express a whole life's love. No wonder wakes are extremely emotional, regrets often come as apologies, and dirges the saddest personal expressions. Inevitably, we may find ourselves unprepared to face the dark hours of our lives.
I remember auntie Nathaniel, a religious sister (SPC) called me on the phone one Sunday morning.
Dr Abe V Rotor
All of us in one way or the other has experienced fear of losing a loved one because of a disease or extreme risk in profession.
It may come as a shock and there's so little time to compress so to speak, the opportunity to express a whole life's love. No wonder wakes are extremely emotional, regrets often come as apologies, and dirges the saddest personal expressions. Inevitably, we may find ourselves unprepared to face the dark hours of our lives.
I remember auntie Nathaniel, a religious sister (SPC) called me on the phone one Sunday morning.
"I'm here in a hospital, Abe. Can you play the violin for me?" She had pneumonia.
"Gladly, Auntie, I'll be on my way."
"Can you play now?"
My wife held the handset as I played Meditation by Massenet, On Wings of Song by Mendelssohn, and O Naraniag a Bulan (Oh, Bright Moon), a popular Ilocano serenade. We come from the same hometown, San Vicente, near Vigan.
"Thank you Abe, I'm going to sleep now."
I visited her the next day in the hospital. She was no longer there. She died soon after I had played, and after I had bid her, "Have a good rest, Auntie. We all love you."
(Sister Nathaniel, together with her sister, Sister Mamerta, and a cousin of mine Sister Trinidad, guided me back to continue my schooling during my stormy life as a teenager.)
My dad at 78 was rushed from our hometown to Manila on a helicopter. He was suffering of a complicated case of diabetes. It was his first time he ever left home since he returned from the US before WWII, and after the death of my mother.
After undergoing a major operation, he stayed with us in the city. It was the most fulfilling moment of our lives as a family, and as father and son, in particular. It was also during this time my wife gave birth to our second child. I saw Dad's face glow as he held baby Marlo in his arms. Three months after, dad died peacefully.
My eldest son, who was a forceps baby, died a year after Dad left us. During his brief life I read for him chapter by chapter the life of the great Dr Albert Schweitzer. Pao did not become a doctor as we dreamed of. Memory of our beloved Pao inspires us during difficult and trying times, It has also a humbling effect when things seem to go so well.
Here is a story of The Christmas Tree, one of the most moving movies I ever watched. It is as fresh in my memory as it was fifty years ago.
"Can you play now?"
My wife held the handset as I played Meditation by Massenet, On Wings of Song by Mendelssohn, and O Naraniag a Bulan (Oh, Bright Moon), a popular Ilocano serenade. We come from the same hometown, San Vicente, near Vigan.
"Thank you Abe, I'm going to sleep now."
I visited her the next day in the hospital. She was no longer there. She died soon after I had played, and after I had bid her, "Have a good rest, Auntie. We all love you."
(Sister Nathaniel, together with her sister, Sister Mamerta, and a cousin of mine Sister Trinidad, guided me back to continue my schooling during my stormy life as a teenager.)
My dad at 78 was rushed from our hometown to Manila on a helicopter. He was suffering of a complicated case of diabetes. It was his first time he ever left home since he returned from the US before WWII, and after the death of my mother.
After undergoing a major operation, he stayed with us in the city. It was the most fulfilling moment of our lives as a family, and as father and son, in particular. It was also during this time my wife gave birth to our second child. I saw Dad's face glow as he held baby Marlo in his arms. Three months after, dad died peacefully.
My eldest son, who was a forceps baby, died a year after Dad left us. During his brief life I read for him chapter by chapter the life of the great Dr Albert Schweitzer. Pao did not become a doctor as we dreamed of. Memory of our beloved Pao inspires us during difficult and trying times, It has also a humbling effect when things seem to go so well.
Here is a story of The Christmas Tree, one of the most moving movies I ever watched. It is as fresh in my memory as it was fifty years ago.
The Christmas Tree - the movie 1969 (Synopsis)
Laurent, a widowed French-American millionaire, and his 10-year-old son, Pascal, are fishing near a desolate Corsican beach when a plane carrying an atomic weapon explodes overhead. Because Laurent is swimming underwater at the time, he suffers no harmful effects, but Pascal is exposed to radiation and develops leukemia.
The Christmas Tree is a story of a father and son trapped in a dilemma: Can you compress love of a lifetime?
Upon learning that his son has only a few months to live, Laurent stops working and takes Pascal to his country chateau. With the aid of his fiancée, Catherine, an art director for Paris Match, his wartime friend Verdun, who works as a caretaker at the chateau, and Verdun's wife, Marinette, Laurent tries to indulge the child's every whim. It soon becomes apparent that Pascal is aware of his fatal illness and calmly accepts the approach of death.
Pascal loves his surroundings, and his father buys him a blue tractor and trailer to drive around the chateau grounds. Because the boy shows an interest in wolves, Laurent and Verdun break into a Paris zoo and steal two of the animals so that Pascal may train them as pets. After one of the wolves is rescued from a fall into a well, the boy nurses the animal. Later, a wild stallion colt attacks Pascal while he plays, and the wolves come to his rescue.
On Christmas Eve, while Verdun is dressing for dinner and Laurent and Catherine are out doing last-minute shopping, Pascal begins to weaken. Upon returning to the chateau, Laurent discovers that his son has died at the foot of the Christmas tree, surrounded by his opened presents and guarded by his two howling pet wolves. Pascal's last gift to his father is a hand-carved wooden plaque wishing him and his friends good luck.
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NOTE: I wrote this article a long time ago. I thought I would not come across it again. But there it popped out from my old files. By coincidence the issue of Dengvaxia stormed media and caused deep grief and anxiety to the guardians of 800,000 - perhaps a million - school children (and adults as well}, who were vaccinated with this controversial anti-Dengue vaccine. And now the current pandemic corona virus COVID-19 that dwarfs all human miseries, save perhaps the bubonic plague episodes in the Dark Ages. .
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I am aware of the universal essence of humanity, that of sharing pain and sorrow on the other side of love and joy. And that I firmly believe in the redeeming power of a Higher Principle. ~ Acknowledgement: Internet Images.
Laurent, a widowed French-American millionaire, and his 10-year-old son, Pascal, are fishing near a desolate Corsican beach when a plane carrying an atomic weapon explodes overhead. Because Laurent is swimming underwater at the time, he suffers no harmful effects, but Pascal is exposed to radiation and develops leukemia.
The Christmas Tree is a story of a father and son trapped in a dilemma: Can you compress love of a lifetime?
Upon learning that his son has only a few months to live, Laurent stops working and takes Pascal to his country chateau. With the aid of his fiancée, Catherine, an art director for Paris Match, his wartime friend Verdun, who works as a caretaker at the chateau, and Verdun's wife, Marinette, Laurent tries to indulge the child's every whim. It soon becomes apparent that Pascal is aware of his fatal illness and calmly accepts the approach of death.
Pascal loves his surroundings, and his father buys him a blue tractor and trailer to drive around the chateau grounds. Because the boy shows an interest in wolves, Laurent and Verdun break into a Paris zoo and steal two of the animals so that Pascal may train them as pets. After one of the wolves is rescued from a fall into a well, the boy nurses the animal. Later, a wild stallion colt attacks Pascal while he plays, and the wolves come to his rescue.
On Christmas Eve, while Verdun is dressing for dinner and Laurent and Catherine are out doing last-minute shopping, Pascal begins to weaken. Upon returning to the chateau, Laurent discovers that his son has died at the foot of the Christmas tree, surrounded by his opened presents and guarded by his two howling pet wolves. Pascal's last gift to his father is a hand-carved wooden plaque wishing him and his friends good luck.
------------------
NOTE: I wrote this article a long time ago. I thought I would not come across it again. But there it popped out from my old files. By coincidence the issue of Dengvaxia stormed media and caused deep grief and anxiety to the guardians of 800,000 - perhaps a million - school children (and adults as well}, who were vaccinated with this controversial anti-Dengue vaccine. And now the current pandemic corona virus COVID-19 that dwarfs all human miseries, save perhaps the bubonic plague episodes in the Dark Ages. .
-----------------
I am aware of the universal essence of humanity, that of sharing pain and sorrow on the other side of love and joy. And that I firmly believe in the redeeming power of a Higher Principle. ~ Acknowledgement: Internet Images.
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