HOM E ALONE

HOME ALONE
May 3, 1993

The “girls” are still abroad. Otan stayed in the province. Paul went to Bacolod City. I am home alone. Jolen, our maid, Bonnie our boy helper and Loreto, our driver, are with me.

But yes, I am alone and the feeling is not easy to describe. It is a kind of emptiness that lingers and lingers and lingers. It is “lifelessness” that exists only in museums. Suddenly, I need noise, disorder, mess that only living beings can provide.

So, this must be how it feels to be an orphan, to be abandoned, to be deserted, to be forgotten. So, it is true that no man is an island.

Now I am beginning to fear the reality of aging. This is how it will be when the day comes. But God knows better. If he allows people to grow old, He will also provide their enjoyment. It is not easy to understand, if one is nearing that stage in his life but I am sure that God will be kind enough.

I have seen and met so many old and lonely folks and I feel depressed. Maybe they didn’t anticipate the moment of aging and so they found themselves old and unprepared.

Although I think even those who are prepared financially, intellectually and even emotionally are sometimes neglected. At this point I must stop thinking.