To Look Into a Dying Child's Eyes

Mundane. That's where the danger lies. To live our lives not appreciating what we have -- eyes to see, ears to listen, hands to feel, legs to walk, and lives to make a difference.

It has been quoted to infinity --- 'to whom much is given, much is expected' -- and I couldn't agree more. However, the word 'expected' means someone else has raised the bar.

Should I raise the bar myself? Haven't I raised it enough yet? Everyone thinks I'm nice enough anyways. Come to think of it, some people even say I'm too nice. "You have to think of what's good for you too!", "Who will take care of number 1?", "What about what I want?"...

I never said I was perfect. Never once did I pretend to be an angel of love, compassion, and kindness. In fact, I do remember mentioning that people label me as a bitch. And I agree. I like you if I like you and I don't if I don't. I will laugh at your face when I think you're absurd, and I will mock you if I think you're being annoying. But does that mean I'm not up to par? Does that make me less than what I should be?

You guess so, huh? You could be right.

***

When I was in second year college, I wanted to join this organization in school. It was a support group for kids with cancer. It was Kythe. Everyone said the interviews were crucial and that not a lot made it in. I was challenged, plus, I have a soft spot for broken kids. I felt at home with them. I was (still am...you never really get fixed). The interviewer (my future Pol Sci teacher) was intimidating but I looked her straight in the eye as I answered her questions. "Why do you want to join this org?" Simple. "Do you think you'll make a difference?" Duh!. And then

"'Mahal ba 'ko ni God?' Now, talk to me. Pretend I'm the kid with cancer asking you".

My voice caught in my throat. And I was transformed into a scene where a five-year old kid was looking for answers through me. Holding my hand and asking me. Gasping or dear life.

"Oo naman, mahal ka ni God. Mahal nya tayong lahat."
"Hindi nya ko mahal. Ikaw lang mahal nya. Sige nga, baket ako may cancer at ikaw wala?"

Oh God.

I don't know how I answered that. I don't remember. I just remember how I imagined that child's face. Her eyes looking into mine. Searching. Expecting. Resigning. I passed the interview and became a member of the org. But 2 visits to the hospital, and I knew I was in way over my head. I couldn't (I just couldn't, I'm sorry, little girl) look into those kids' eyes and tell them I understand because I don't. I'm broken, but I have a lifetime of possibilities to heal me. And they have -- what -- 6 months, if they're lucky.

The second visit was horrible. I was stuck with a girl whose right eye was popping out because of the cancer. She was vibrant and had a wonderful smile, but I couldn't treat her normally. All I could think about was 'What if her right eye falls off? Will she die?' What will I do? What if it gets infected?' I went back to school that day, ran straight to the colayco hall, and started crying as soon as I reached my 'tambayan' table.

I couldn't relate. At all. I was scarred. But she was dying. This small child full of vibrancy was dying. And I was powerless. Powerless. What was I doing there? I couldn't give her anything of value. My time was not important to her. I never went back there. I quit the org after a sem. I quit. Because I tried to raise the bar. And I failed myself. But maybe I raised it too high too soon. I was too young and naive about happiness and about life. But now I believe I know better.

***

I never said I was perfect. Never once did I pretend to be an angel of love, compassion, and kindness. But I did raise the bar. And sometimes, a little at a time goes a long way.

'Mahal ba ko ni God?'
'Oo naman, mahal ka niya. Sabi nga nya sa 'kin dalawin kita para sabihin ko sa'yo e. Tara, anong gusto mong laro?'

Simple.