FAMILY METAMORPHOSIS

FAMILY METAMORPHOSIS

Years pass-by, time travels and life seem to move even faster. My recollection is still very active, images are still vivid and feelings are all still intact. I am the youngest in a family of ten. I am the overall errand boy. When everybody needs to blame somebody I am always the end point when no one is anymore left to be blamed.

Now I am only the living “lolo” of the clan because all my elder brothers and sisters are gone. I am just beginning to enjoy my authority as the most senior of the family branch of our heritage… but, as if suddenly, new events are surfacing; a new phase of history is unfolding; a new generation is forming.

My eldest is now a father of two, enjoying his stint in Australia. Fresh as if it happened only yesterday, he met a bad bicycle accident that brought him to the hospital unconscious. I was the attending physician who needed to do everything in precision because a head injury is always under time pressure for the patient to be saved. A wrong and untimely decision could mean the life or lifetime suffering.

Also in Australia is my youngest son, seemingly enjoying his single-blessedness, “but not for long”, he explained to me. His athletic involvement makes him busy most of his spare time. When he was a little boy he accidentally fell from the fourth step of our concrete stairs that badly wounded his nose. Its mark still stays.

My second child is now also a mother of two – her eldest, already a full blown pretty lady while her second daughter, young as she is, already shows qualities of a politician – a trait inherited from her Congressman grandfather. I can still feel the shock and the helplessness that I experienced when while their mother was learning to walk, her walker (the local “andador”) accidentally tilted bringing her down to a greatly traumatized mouth.

My middle daughter is now also a mother of two, based in Canada where they are happily establishing their family in that land of wild hope and big promises. I cannot forget the days when I was always monitoring her playtime because she always chooses the role of a housemaid, laundry woman or any lowly role until I interrupted and suggested better roles for her.

My youngest daughter also turned to be a mother only a few days ago after giving birth to a healthy cute little girl. How could I forget her courageous stanch, singing the “Ama Namin” while a teacher was pricking into her ears her first pair of ear rings.

Gone are the days but not the memories. A new beginning is here -
to continue the lineage, to go on with the cycle of life but I will never forget when every afternoon, together with my youngest son we would go biking around town while singing a Christian song: "With Christ in our vessel we can smile at the storm, smile at the storm, smile at the storm...With Christ in our vessel we can smile at the storm... until we come back home. Sailing and sailing home, sailing and sailing home... With Christ in our vessel we can smile at the storm... until we come back home".