Counting Blessings
TWO YEARS AGO, I met an accident I could not recall the circumstances of, my blurred attention being just thankful that, however bruised and bloody my face was, my pinky broken and the left part of my body ached, I was able to find my way home. There, in the light of our house, I saw the extent of my wounds. I didn’t feel real pain, because numbed by alcohol, tired from the long, wobbly walk and too groggy to bother to change I simply took off my soiled clothes, dropped them in a crumple and myself dead.
I still could not remember a thing when I woke up. My eldest son, Alex, asked me (he was awake when I arrived) what happened to my face and how I am. I really didn’t know what happened so I said I was okay and probably fell badly.
In the bathroom mirror, my image recalled the incidents. I did remember the birthday party of Tony, a Coop colleague; the store acquired a new product, Mojito, that tasted like punch and tickled my wino fancy. When my SanMig ran out, I chased Empi Lite with it. Tony video-called me to verify if I made it home okay and, when he saw my face, felt guilty he did not prevail upon me to sleep over.
Kuya Gemer was sad and surprised to hear about me because when he walked me to the bulaluhan, I was still up to having mami. Although when his friend drove me to the village gate in the latter’s motorbike, he told him that he was not very sure my zigzaggy gait would take me me very far. As indeed it didn’t.
Many were saddened and worried about what happened to me. Some texted their concern, some called. All made me feel less wounded. My injuries were not really a big deal because greatly alleviated by their sincere sympathy.
My gratitude to God was grounded in every celebration I join where, before we indulge in solid or liquid food, I always say grace. So my solitary injury I inflicted and blamed on me alone and I prayed a promise that my future outings will be conducted with extreme care and caution. I’ve had minor mishaps before because of going home under the influence (a blessing that I don’t drive) and this tops the list. I declined my wife’s offer to have a doctor look at my wounds because I was banking on the efficacy of my Glutamine food supplements to heal them (they sure were) and was already thankful there was no fault-finding.
I was alone and apart from them in my good time, I should suffer the consequences singularly.
One other cause for thanksgiving is that the accident happened one week before PREX. I would’ve been the cause of a setback if I was indisposed to pair off with Kuya Rey, my Talk 3 partner. God gave me an early warning device for atonement, learning the lesson and preparing for my role in the seminar according to His, not my, plan. I also gave thanks to Jesus, Mary and Joseph. With an arsenal of allies, I really have only myself to assign the responsibility for disaster.
She didn’t know what happened when Ate Maricar texted me to say she wants to borrow last year’s pilgrimage booklet, and was I home. I asked her to come over and get it and handle it with care, my one-among-a-few treasure.
It’s been a spell since we last talked so I was sure it was just a ploy. I knew that she knew that when we get to talking, we cover a lot, ramble here and there, like there was no running out of time and topics.
Long story short, I offered her my proofreading service before we parted ways. In the long conversation that we had, not once did she ask about the bruises on my face. In one brief lull, I must’ve mentioned what I mulled was what happened but that was all. We didn’t go back to it. There are people who do not dwell on nonessentials. My friend is one of those.
Like I strongly suspected she would, she texted soon enough. She thanked me for our short but substantive conversation. She felt it, she said. She’s had the booklet copied and was going to return it but it rained so she’ll do it tomorrow.
dI replied that we needed to let go of unpleasant feelings before we knew each other better. Reason why I let go of anger when the rage was real. Now we’re more open to whatever debate or disagreement. Thank you for being silent about my accident. It no longer hurts.
She responded that even if it took a while, we were true to each other at the outset. We didn’t need to get together in gab or food fests to be friends. We’re friends because we communicate. We think alike, have different artistic senses and peculiar in many aspects but we talk real. She realized that some people are there when the weather is fair or looking forward to gain.
She was right and I was sad. I remember our late mutual friend, John. He was the link to our eccentricities, the listener who understood our thoughts before we verbalize them. Without judging. We still talk to him, wherever God placed him.
Now she knows who she can trust better, thanks to Jesus and Mary. Hurt is necessary to sense what must be felt. There is no crown without the cross, she concluded.
My rejoinder: There is no Son without a mother. He is a brother like no other.
This is for all my friends. You know who you are. Amen.
