Wake-Up Call
I went to church today. Rejoice, my holier-than-thou friends!
There are times when I doubt and raise questions about my religion, but I never let myself abandon the faith! Playing safe; one never knows. My Catholic upbringing still rules. There are times when I would make the Sign of the Cross in bed, not because of the food I was about to receive on rare occasions (oh, you have no idea!) but because I never knew when I would get called.
I’ve been getting wake-up calls, you see. Too frequently, lately.
A dear childhood friend, Teresa “Tessie” Lopez. RIP
A dear childhood friend from my village passed away last week. The Big C! She was 68 years old. Now I know why she would not acknowledge my effort to get in touch with her through emails. No one told me she was that ill until last week when her daughter dropped me a line about her mom’s frame of health. She died two days later and was laid to rest yesterday.
Mauro Avendaño, HS Classmate, Class of ’65. RIP
Today, another friend and high school classmate joined his Creator in his sleep. When was the last time I saw him? Was it two years ago, at the funeral of his cousin? I cannot remember now. I remember he was a naughty boy in HS but a jolly good fellow. Everybody liked him; thus, I was delighted to see him on FB’s People You May Know. That was yesterday, and I quickly sent him a Friend Request. He must have accepted it while I was still sleeping, I presumed. The notification was at 03:08 a.m. Philippine time or Vienna time; I could not tell. Before I could thank him for accepting my request, I saw messages of condolences pouring in. I was about to tell him it would be fun bonding with him and our other classmates in December when we have our HS Homecoming. We graduated 50 years ago last year, but only this year, a grand reunion was happening again after two years. Unfortunately, I could not make it last time. Regrets only. Mine!
Two dead friends in a row—sad. Is this my wake-up call? I asked myself. Now you’re here; now you’re gone. Scary. Soon, I will be 68. That is twelve years before I hit eighty. I have twelve years to go if I don’t get called before then. So, I began reflecting on the meaning of life.
I thought that was a good thing to do before my time was up. I want to be ready—spiritually, at least.
Saying this, I can see the smile on the face of my many friends who keep asking me why I don’t go to church–and gossip after. Yes, I do, but I don’t tell them when—no need for a barkada to communicate with my gods. I don’t even ask my friends to go pee with me. (Men, BTW, don’t do this, unlike many women I know do). I can manage on my own. And I can pray alone.)
I will sorely miss you, my friends–Tess Burgos and Mauro Avendaño. May you find eternal peace.
The same goes for our other HS Classmates, Class of ’65, as we remember our dear departed on All Saints Day. In random order: Leticia Gamboa, Pacita Garcia, Erlinda Dela Rosa, Teresita Sayo, Crispin Anore, Ricardo Pabustan, Reynaldo Cruz, Zoilo Perlas, Edilberto Sunga, Helen Alvaro, Lourdes Soriaga, Jaime Alejandria, Medita Cruz, and all the other classmates who have gone ahead of us, but whose names I cannot recall as of this writing.
Since graduation night, I haven’t seen many of my classmates, but we found each other again–thanks to social media. We are constantly in touch through a Chat Group I created–Klasmeyts ’65. It’s getting stronger as we find more classmates every day.
Graduating Class of ’65.