There are stories, and then there are stories! Stories that stay with you for years. Unforgettable, gritty, meaty... those that can be re-told and passed on and would always, always be striking.
We all have them. They can be personal experiences, or told by a friend from his or her own personal experience, or they may even come from strangers, but once you hear them, their yours! They burrow into your consciousness, jar you out of your own little self-centered Universe, and make you human. Story-telling has been part of humanity since Creation. I mean, how else do we know that In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth? That the earth was void, and formless, and darkness was upon the face of the deep? How else would we have known that the Spirit of God hovered above these chaotic waters--if no one bothered to tell this story and pass it on generation after generation?
Thus, we know that from nothing, God created everything... that we have a beautiful beginning. Thus, we know, too, that in the end, everything will be beautiful again. (John told us the story of our future in the last chapters of Revelation.)
Story-telling is in our blood. That's why we have epic poetry of old. That's why we have theater. That's why we have movies (like New Moon and 2012 and Christmas Carol). That's why we turn on the news and gasp in horror at the massacre at Maguindanao and rejoice that CNN awarded a fellow Pinoy as Hero of the year. Strange that in this nation, the blood of heroes and murderers run through our veins. I digress, but even those are stories that cannot be forgotten, at least not soon.
Thus I attempt to share with you some stories that have stuck with me. These were told to me either directly or indirectly and now I wish to share them with you. Humbly, I launch through my blog the "Borrowed Stories Series." I hope these stories haunt you as much as they do me.
Let's begin with this story. I was on my commute to work. The bus had the radio on and it was that program were a gay DJ (although I'm not sure if he's just pretending to be gay as a gimmick) gives advice to listeners who call in with their love problems. Here's the story:
The situation was this. The girl couldn't forgive the boy. They were boyfriend and girlfriend for years. It seemed a match made in heaven. He was faithful, virtuous, respectful. In fact they were engaged. His mom treated her as her own daughter. It was a beautiful relationship.
Then one day, the boy broke the relationship off. For absolutely no reason, it seemed. He even cut off all contact. He changed numbers, wouldn't answer her calls, her emails, her letters. He wouldn't agree to talk to her, or even meet up with her. He just suddenly went away.
The girl was still in love with him, and was hurt and confused by his sudden defection. Was there a third party? Did she do or say anything wrong? What happened?
Months stretched to a year. And then longer. Still, the boy refused to speak with her or contact her. She was devastated.
One day, she calls his home again. The boy's mom answered.
"Ma, please tell me what's wrong? Please... You said you love me like your own daughter. I still am waiting for him. I don't want to be married to any other person but him."
"My dear," she answers. "You're young. Go meet other boys. Live your life."
"But please tell me what happened. Please."
Finally, his mom relents. "Honey, he died. It was brain cancer. The moment he found out, that was when he broke off with you. He didn't want to hurt you, that's why he didn't tell you he had cancer. He didn't want this burden on you. He passed away six months ago. I'm really sorry, anak."
That was the story. The girl tells the DJ: "I can't forgive him! I love him so much! How come he didn't trust me enough to tell me? I could have been there to take care of him! I could have shared his pain! How come he didn't trust me to be strong for him?" Then she breaks down and sobs.
It was silent for a long moment. Then the DJ said, "There's no use being angry at him. There's no use. He's dead. No matter how angry you are, nothing can bring him back. You have to move on. You have to live. You have to forgive him. Whatever his reasons are for keeping that from you, let them rest with him. Let him go. You only hurt yourself."
And then this stupid DJ plays "Calling your name again" which was the song Richard Carpenter wrote as a tribute to his sister. Thank God I had my jacket then, not only because of the air-conditioning at the bus but because I had something available to put over my face as the tears filled my eyes and flowed down my cheeks.
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