The Third Mass

I see familiar faces of parents, friends and barristers on our third week of attending mass at San Beda Church.  But the atmosphere today is different from the two Saturdays we have attended… this one is very silent… the barristers looked so tired, worried, weary, sleepy and depressed… in short… in low morale. 

As the priest delivered his homily… he said… “If you were here in front… you’ll see how sad your faces are.  Don’t fear… Stand by the cross of God just as Mary stood firmly at the cross of God.  Believe in yourself, Believe in the mercy of God and everything else will be in place.”

Then we had the communion… Beside me is my Mom.  Then suddenly, I heard the intro of one of my favorite songs… “Tanging Yaman…”

I can’t stand up… because I was crying… and I don't want my Mom to notice that I was crying…. I wasn’t even praying… I let my heart just speak for whatever it is that bothers me… for my mouth can no longer speak for what I truly feel at that time…. I just remembered my brother telling me just this morning…

“Ate… ang hirap talaga… Sa dasal na lang ako umaasa….”  

My thoughts turned to the times when we were just kids…  I'm braver than him… and everytime he gets wounded… he comes to me and say….

“Ate… ang sakit ng sugat ko… Grabe… ang daming dugo. Mamamatay na yata ako sa dami ng dugo. Wag mong sasabihin kay Ina, mapapagalitan ako.”

And I will end up nursing him up, getting his attention till I drop the alcohol or the betadine… and he'll shout….. "Aray naman Ate!!!"

Though I know he’ll surely be hurt… I’m sure it wouldn’t last long… and the wound will gradually be healed…

If the bar examination is just as easy as healing a scar, Ate would always be there handling a bottle of alcohol, betadine and cotton.

But right now, it's different.  Sometimes, I myself couldn't find the words to comfort him.  And sometimes, silence, affection and moral support are just my way of making him feel… "you'll get through this.. victoriously."

Every Sunday, when I know that my brother is already inside the testing venue and my parents are already sitting comfortably at the bus to Cavite, I find myself Church-hopping… the first time that I always have with me my white rosary, till I find myself… tired and hungry… That in cases like these, I just don't want to depend and share the burden to my parents… I speak to the One who I know will always listen.

For praying is my best known defense… I would always end up praying that… "God would always be there to remind my brother of the things he had already forgotten and it would just come out smoothly at the back of his mind…  and in those items that my brother finds it so hard to answer, may God assist him in writing…. may He whisper the acceptable answers… and in those times of helplessness.. may my brother find refuge, strength, wisdom, understanding and faith in Him…"