One Little Rose

Do you have loved ones who just passed away? Have you ever felt a lump of guilt in your heart that you wished you could be somehow expressive of your love towards that person? Have you wished that if you could just turned back the hands of time and rewrite the past?

I would like to invite you to read the following poems that I've heard from one of Fr. Jerry Orbos' Oh! Some Moments. I've got this from http://pinoy.fm/song/5dc54fc89/one-little-rose

Please read and have a glimpse of a little issue in our life. I said little because this issue is really negligible but it does really matters more importantly when our loved ones are being called to eternity. Somehow this “little” thing in life is often taken for granted and its importance becomes too late to realize.

Here it goes...

One Little Rose

I’d rather have one little rose from the garden of a friend

Than to have the choices flowers when my life has come to end

I’d rather hear a pleasant word in kindness said to me

Than flattery when my heart is still and my life has ceased to be.

I’d rather see a loving smile from a friend whom I know are true

Than tears had around my casket when this world I bid a due

So bring me all your flowers today what a pink, or white, or red

I’d rather have one blossom now than a truckload when I’m dead.

So, what can you say or comment about the poem? Did it strike you bull’s eye as what it did to me?

Let me share you my story.

When my sister died three years ago, I still vividly remember how she looks like when I arrived in the hospital; her eyes was half-opened and she was cold lying on the stretcher inside the emergency room. She died 30 minutes ago while I was still on the bus on the way to the hospital. She seemed waiting for us: my mom, my older brother, and her eight children. I knew then that she’s not ready to leave especially her three-year old youngest son. As I gave my final hug and kiss to her; I whispered to her and said...”I’ll take good care of your children. Go in peace”. I touched her eyes and closed it slowly.

Deep inside of me, I was rejoicing. I’ll tell you why.

My Ate and I had not-so-good-memories especially during my elementary days. We fight most of the times because of so many reasons. Some were petty. Some were very serious that I was always left kneeling, with my both hands on the sideward because I was being punished by my late father. Most of the time, my father’s belt would always leave a mark on my hips. This was always been the scene every time we had a fight. My dad would always reiterate to me that I should not fight back because she’s my older sister. I felt devastated because I wasn’t given the chance to defend my side. I was just too young to understand that a boy shouldn’t fight a girl like her. Deep inside, I would always tell myself that I’d grow up someday and I’ll find ways to avenge.

My relationship with Ate got better when I decided to work in Manila after high school. Ate cried when I kissed her goodbye on that day. She cried because...it was my first time to kiss her or maybe, I would say she was overwhelmed of the fact that she would miss me.

Well, she has all the reasons to miss me. When Ate got married at an early age of 15 (I was 12 year old then), I have witnessed the battle she been through. I became her very supportive ally: a baby-sitter, an errand boy and an accomplice every time she’d left the house because she had a fight with her husband.

Anyway, I don’t have the choice but to stick to her side no matter what. Our father died already and our mother was not around because of work. In short, I must stay.

How did our relationship changed into a good one?

Did God make a miracle?

No.

God gave me a change of heart.

One night, I had this very bad dream about Ate. In my dream, she was being abused brutally in front of me...and I was so helpless! The dream was so bad that when I woke up, I was crying. The dream seemed very real to me. Since then, I promised to myself that whatever hurtful words that Ate would utter against me; I would not fight back. If she asked me to do an errand; I would do it willingly. Just the thought of losing her was terrifying.

The following day, I became his new brother.
I no longer see her as a horrible bitch; a villain; a witch.

I look at her at simply as my sister that very much in need of help.

I had a conviction then that a persistent act of little love would penetrate a hardened heart. And that’s what I did.

Every Mother’s day, I’d give her red roses or a chocolate.Every birthday, I had a gift for her no matter how cheap it was. Hair band. Set of kitchen utensils... etc. Every Christmas, I had her simple request made come true; to cook for the family on Christmas Eve. Of course, I would always have a surprise gift for her and for her family. Every time I leave her place, I would kiss her. Because I learned that I have to live everyday as if it is my last day. Who knows?

As I gazed upon Ate’s corpse, I’ve searched my heart and relived our memories together. She loved to write me wherever my work was. She called me utoy even I’m no longer a kid. She would share her pain about her married life, with her headaches in growing kids and in return, I would just be there to listen. She would always tell me that she envied me because I was able to finish college on my own. Every time I’d visit her family, she would always have a present for me: sometimes sumang-balinghoy, fruits in season, and so on. Her ways of telling me that she loved me as her brother...that she felt loved and so was able to give it back.

I was rejoicing because I knew that I was able to give her more than just one little rose, but a bunch of love that nothing in this world can contain during her lifetime. I have no more guilt feelings. I have no more frustrations. And I don’t need to turn back the hands of time because the time has been with me all the while.

Now that she’s in peace and no more pain to endure, I have another reason to celebrate.