My six-year-old niece was
grief-stricken…
It was barely
two weeks since I last saw her weeping like it’s already the end of Cartoon
Network. That’s the time that she was nursing a broken heart because of
breaking up with her puppy love, six-year-old Kurt.
It took me one
hour in the church before I finished explaining everything she needed to know
about love and relationship. By the end of the mass that fateful Sunday, we
agreed that she’ll have her next boyfriend at the age of 30.
Last night,
another pivotal event happened in her life. You see, she lost something very
significant. So special that the dam of tears burst out until such time I
feared that the entire house might be flooded already.
She lost for
the second time her front tooth. Have a glimpse…
Her agony started around 3 p.m. in the afternoon after eating
her favorite chocolates. The tooth dangled loose but she wouldn’t let anybody
touch it. Finally by dinner time, her precious tooth gave up and was detached
permanently.
She was
sobbing frenziedly and mumbling incoherently while wrapping her dear tooth in a
paper. For a very long time she was in grave mourning that I didn’t know how to
console her sorrowful heart.
Finally, she
fell asleep with tears trickling down her cheeks. I thought she’ll wake up
feeling much better but I was wrong.
She woke up hunting for her tooth which unfortunately was
incidentally thrown out by the helper. The dam of tears opened up again until
such time her mom called in the phone to listen to her endless rambling of the
pitiful tooth.
Later on, I
needed to use my stock knowledge of convincing power in persuading her to go to
school with the missing tooth in front. Shayne wasn’t much of a help. She made
the matter worst with nonstop teases by making funny faces.
When she
arrived this afternoon, she was the same Trisha. Laughing uproariously and
dancing wildly while imitating the Kung Fu kids in the TV.
As I pondered this evening what happened to Trisha, I
couldn’t help but to wonder how many of us suffered like her because of losing
something very dear in our heart.
For her, the
only outlet of pain she knows is crying. As we grow old, we look up at crying
as a sign of weakness not of healing.
After long
bawling, Trisha ended up relieved with anguish. For grown ups, we seldom lose
something without being painfully scarred. Could it be because we have a
tendency to forget that everything is ephemeral? Nothing lasts forever… only
change remains the same.
How I wish
that each one of us would be left with some child like credence in our
hearts…that stance where we can let go after one last cry…