Birth of an angel: chapter 8
January 26, 2009 by Manuel de leon
This is chapter 8 of a book that Manuel de leon wrote about his son Carlo and gives away for free to those he comes across in the Philippines, he has given us permission to reprint his story on MindBodySmile.com and we will publish weekly installments here.
Chapter 8: Enlightenment
On Wednesday, 6th of June, we held an evening mass in the house. On that same day, I intended to finish the negotiation for the place of interment. That morning, I was busy deciding on what to prepare for lunch. There were several relatives from Pampanga staying in the house up to the day of the interment. I was so engrossed with the activities that I did not notice the quick passing of time.
While moving around my mind wandered back and forth to the chain of awe-inspiring events that seemed to happen in perfect sequence beyond my control and influence. They were not coincidences because they fitted in all the occurrences during the wake and interment of my son. I was sure that there were more amazing surprises coming our way.
By early afternoon, I received a phone call from my sister Carina. She told me that the agent called her up and said that there were no discounts or easier terms of payments for the quoted price. But the good news was that there was one lot adjacent to what I preferred which was up for resale. Located in a better spot, it was also good for 4 bodies. I told her to call the agent back. I said that I needed an hour to go there and take a look at the available lot.
A few minutes after we hung up, I got a text message from my friends from Dipolog City which said, “We have remitted to your account today this amount.” My eyes were wet when I finished reading the message.
The money they remitted were more than enough to pay for the down payment, the burial expenses, and part of the hospital bills I paid through my credit card.
I called my sister, asking if the agent was still there. She told me that he was already waiting for me. I told her about the remittance, and she was amazed that my son himself was putting all the pieces together to get what he wanted.
My son John Patrick drove me to the memorial park. The agent met us and he rolled out the map to show us where the available lot was located. He dropped his finger to a section were we were the other day. Lot J-160, he said. It was located along the side of a wide cul de sac, with an easement that made the lot bigger than the inner lots. We walked from the office to the lot he was pointing at the map.
While going to the site it occurred to me to search for my small lot in the adjacent subdivision. To my surprise I could see my subdivision lot from there without any obstruction, even if I had to lie down on the ground. On the other hand, a view of my lot from our first choice, J-177 was obstructed by a large tree and off the direction.
I knew that my son was doing it his way. But he had never been in the subdivision or anywhere near it. The agent could not believe that I was personally looking and negotiating for a place to bury my young son. Normally, immediate relatives of the deceased were unable to do such transactions. Where was I getting the strength to do that? From my son himself, but I knew he would not believe me.
We discussed the price. He quoted the same price as that of the other lot. I tried to pull the price down and offered to pay 50% down payment and with the balance payable in six equal monthly installments without interest. It was an offer that was like shooting at the moon.
He called the owner and they talked for a few minutes on his cell phone. Then he turned to me and said, “The deal is closed.”
It was Lot J-160 that my son had chosen and there was no way he would not get it. We arranged to meet the following day to formalize everything.
I could not believe what happened as we were driving for home. What a deal! Other than getting a better place I realized a big savings of P60 thousand, and most of all I had the money at that moment to pay for it.
It was getting dark by the time we reached home. I remembered fetching the parish priest who would celebrate the evening mass. My son Jay-Ar brought the priest over at 7pm. My mother and immediate relatives arrived one by one for the mass. The mass was in celebration of the birthday of my late father Victoriano Sr., and of the birth of my son to a new everlasting life.
In his homily, the priest talked about pains, sufferings and death—processes of purification necessary for mortals to pass through the physical and material realm into the spiritual realm. The Lord in His final days here on earth underwent the most terrible pains, sufferings and death. He fulfilled the will of His Father in heaven, sadly in the hands of men who were the very purpose of His coming.
The homily had never been so timely for me because even after all the manifestations of the divine presence in our midst, a vital question still persisted. If my son was in God’s cradle even before as revealed by these many signs and wonders, why did he suffer so much pain before he died? I sat near the priest after the ceremony and asked him to stay a little longer for dinner. I wanted to show him the candle image and seek for advice. But he begged off from having dinner and rushed on for another appointment.
That night I contemplated about the homily. It is true: even in this world, that to be able to go up the ladder of success, fame and promotion one has to suffer, feel the pains and work hard for it. Pains are physical
Carlo’s Baptism, his birth into Christianity.
in nature while sufferings are emotional and mental. Even in birth there are pains. Coming from the comfort of the watery world of the womb, each person bursts out into this world meeting pains caused by the new environment. That is the reason babies cry when they are born.
For my son Carlo, his pains started as early as March 2007. He was hospitalized for three weeks to control the progressing abdominal pains. From mild pain relievers he graduated to morphine to control the terrible sensation. He got through and we got out of the hospital before the start of the Holy Week when his pains subsided.
I rarely saw him suffer from depression and indulge in self pity. He never envied other children and showed no disgust for his predicament. Even during New Year celebrations, he just sat by the window and watched the revelries outside. He lived his ailing life almost without complaining, silently accepting his fate. He never had any fear of death even if I told him that his illness could kill him if he did not follow his regimen.
Smiles seldom left his face despite his condition. He shed no tears of sadness, only cries of pains caused by injections or dextrose insertions. He had long since lost all viable veins on his body because of frequent chemotherapy. Black marks that looked like scars appeared on both his wrists and feet where the chemicals went inside. I was the one worried and in constant pain seeing him bravely enduring, fighting and living in that kind of situation.
Carlo and his older brother Louie
On his birthday on May 13, I knew that he had given up the fight. Without saying anything his behavior told me that he was preparing to go. He examined his albums containing his pictures, personal circumstances, awards, certificates and citations in school. He refused to take his food and medicines. He declined to go back to his doctor even for check up. No matter what happened he vowed not to undergo any chemotherapy, laboratory tests, CT scans or X-Rays. He uttered masked words of farewell, careful that he would be bringing grief to us.
Sensing his implied surrender, I gave him back to God on Pentecost Sunday. I declared to God that in exchange for my yielding, He should spare my son from more pains and sufferings. But God did not spare him from pains; my son went through hard and agonizing days before he died. So during the few hours after he expired, I was desperate for God; I was asking why He did not grant me my request.
This was the reason that up to that moment of the homily, I was still seeking for answers about the pains and sufferings my boy endured. The priest could never have explained it more clearly. “Through suffering and pain can one come to the joys of heaven.”
Manuel de leon
* If you missed the previous postings the links are below:
wow great posts about the title birth of angels…oh you have written so many chapters. i still havent gone through all of them …will again message when i finish reading all of them.