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…
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