Faith

How far one goes depends on how much one believes.

When I was younger, I remember, my extended family would go to the beach for some RnR. It was fairly regular, most of the times, the trips were a product of the spur of the moment decisions. I loved it as a kid and I love it still.

During one such occasion, I remember seeing my Mom walk my Dad to the beachfront. My Dad had suffered a heartstroke but survived. But the stroke impaired his walking and hence needed my Mom to be at his side most of the times.

But Mom was walking my Dad not only because he had difficulty walking. She was walking my Dad because they were reliving the days when they were much younger; when there were less gray hair on their head, their sights much clearer, their bodies more agile.

I secretly liked those moments of sweetness between my parents. (Another such display was during the holidays - Dad, obviously drunk, sang to my Mom in front of everybody in the compound. There is still a sepia photograph in our albums to remind me of such).

As I was watching them frolick in the sea, I heard one of Tito say: "Bakit kaya hindi pa iwanan ni Thelma (my Mom) si Morie (my Dad)?"

I acted like I didn't hear him actually say it. But I knew where he was coming from. My Dad being an "outsider" in the family, meaning he was the addition to the family, they sometimes see it as too taxing for my Mom to take care of him.

Years later, I would realise, and then later on learn as one of life's lessons, why my Mom stuck it out with Dad.

Because love is also about commitment. The road to forever is not always smooth, the vision not always rosy-colored. There are a few bumpy turns, unexpected detours and blind curves. But what is important, when things like these occur, is to always hold the hand of the one you love. It's hard sometimes but when you think of that other person and you think you still love him. Start with that. Maybe that's a good place to start to pursue the journey.