When I was a child, my mother had an accident that almost took her life. She was travelling from my father’s workplace to our home, it was almost 6 in the afternoon, with her is my elder sister, midway between our home and father’s workplace, mother got into an accident. A stone, who came from nowhere, suddenly hit her head. She passed out after shouting “Agay!” (Ouch!). They were riding a motorcycle when it happened, my older sister who is about 9 years old at that time tried her best to hold mother but she can’t. Her small body can’t hold on to the weight of an adult.
We were waiting for them to arrive. It was almost dark and there seems to be a feeling of uneasiness in the wind. The breeze seems colder, or so I thought, I guess it’s the same feeling that you get when the first sign darkness of the afternoon kiss goodbye the sunlight that’s surrounding you. With it is that cold wind that might bring chill to you and I always felt that way when late afternoons come. My cousin, who is living with us, was also worried. It was almost 7 in the evening and she knows that we were already hungry. She just told us that maybe mother will bring some food when she comes home because she would know that by this time, we’re all very hungry.
I didn’t care about the hunger at that time, I had a bad feeling about it. I don’t know why but it seems when something terrible is about to happen, your unconscious feels it. And it gives you that fear, a sort of heads-up on the things that might come.
I really can’t remember who broke the news to us. Was it my older sister? Was it the driver of the motorcycle? Was it my cousins? Aunts? Uncles? I still can’t remember now. What I do remember was the blood-stained clothes of the driver and the look in my sister’s face as she cried and told us that mother got into an accident. Her initial story was that maybe, maybe mother was shot. Everyone of us went to a crying spree, from my grandmother up to our youngest sister. We were calmed down by my Aunts.
She was brought to the city for proper medication. We lived in a small town and the medical level of the hospitals where we live is not that advance yet. She was in a comatose state for three days. We were not allowed to see her, I guess it was the best at that time. Her brother and my father’s siblings took care of her. Father was away at that time, he was in Manila for a seminar. He took the first flight in the morning after the accident and went straight into the hospital.
We were allowed to visit her after she woke up. It was overwhelming for me. I was just a child when that accident happened and unlike those movies where the characters just magically healed and everything went back to normal, our life didn’t healed that easily. The physical wounds healed faster but the effect of it to our life didn’t. It did clean up our family’s savings and it took a toll on mother’s business, as you can see, she is not allowed to work on her business like she did before. One thing that really amazes me with her and father is that they didn’t stop. They wouldn’t let us hit the bottom even though we were just one step away from it. They will do everything and for that I am thankful for all the love and blessing that they showered my life.
I don’t really hate waiting; instead, I fear the act of waiting. I fear waiting especially at those critical times– that late afternoon waiting time is too much for me. It makes me cringe inside and my paranoia would kick-in in high gears. It would flash out-of-this-world images of the people I am waiting for in a state of an accident or whatever there is to fear of. I fear waiting because at that very moment, I am not sure whether I’ll be able to see that person or not. And I hope I will be given the chance to see him or her over and over again.