COMFORT TABLE

by Clifford Marshal Ablaza

    Not everything comes easy, even if we fend-off the world with our self-made armors because, sooner or later, we are bound to be pressed down by the things we least expect to hurt and crack or break us: the unexpected sticks and stones. And there will not be any certain personal saviour we can count on except, perhaps, our own. But we never realize it, until we feel the world is sitting heavy on our shoulders and nobody lifts a finger in sympathy.

    At a certain point of time in my life, I was played out by two contrasting emotions. Just a few days before my nineteenth birthday, I was disarmed by the news that my paternal grandfather passed on to the "Great Beyond". (I used to call it "a better place" until that time.) My mind screamed confused trying to patch up things. I was unable to really put myself where my standing grounds was, not knowing how to react because I was still holding something against him. And being hit by the train of knowing I can never bury it cold anymore.

    I was putting my shoes on to celebrate life, but I turned out trying to justify his death. On my birthday, I cried while attending Mass. I was making things up in my mind of what I should have done (like a fool thinking that his folly can make things better, wishing I had the Jedi hand). And, sadly, I had no means to even, at least, see him "go" and say my good luck wishes, aware that he left not knowing "calm", hoping the road ahead of him is not that cruel. Just then, I thought, he had not really known contentment despite the fullness of his life, considering there is a broken chain hanging as a phantom when my parents unlocked themselves from unity (and my father's physical abuse and infidelity), both hoping it would end up fixing things up. But that part cannot be done. And yet, when we had our fleeting visits, lolo gave us what he taught we went there for. But I know he expected more from us. He tried hard not to allow us to see his downsides. And I am thankful for that now.

    No matter how much we give in hoping we can change things, there is not always an answer. Nor can we pull up our sleeves and throw sucker punches until life gives its favor to us. We cannot force anything to happen in this world, as I cannot undo those things I have done or have believed. But, as a friend has told me, "it is not in the breaking but in the making of a person that  determines his destiny." Thus, I told myself, I will not drown myself in what I cannot control, nor have the power to manipulate.

    Now, I realize, lolo never really left us. He is with us. A part of him resides in us, being worn on our sleeves every day of our lives - much more than the blood, but the legacy. And when I was in my moment of doubt, loneliness and anger, and in the time I needed understanding, I am thankful for the hand that held me, that walked me through it all. And part of that hand would one day help wield the legacy of my lolo has left me. And yet, there is more to life than living - and knowing that we have to overcome.