This story originally appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on April 11, 2006.
As a child, I’ve always thought that falling stars were God’s sign that He remembered the lonely. To me, they were flares sent down from heaven to remind those who were alone that they still had hope of being rescued from their sad fate.
The funny thing was that until then, the closest I had come to seeing a falling star was in the movies and in the cartoons I used to watch. I took this as a sign that God considered me strong and that I was indestructible and beyond being hurt by sorrow and pain.
I was wrong. When I was 17, I saw a real falling star.
My mother had to leave for the United States when I was in fifth grade because our house had been foreclosed by the bank. The irony of this tragedy was that my mother owned our house but it was my father who had mortgaged it. My father was an alcoholic whose vice made our lives harder than it should have been.
Before she left, I used to sleep beside my mother. I became her confidant. The things we talked about then made me mature faster because by being the child closest to her and almost like a friend, I helped her carry her very heavy cross. Sometimes we would even cry together.
The day she left, I could do nothing but shed tears. When it was time for her to go, I kissed her and turned away without looking back. From then on, there was hardly a night when I did not cry. I missed my closest ally in the house and my pillow-fight partner.
The next five years were the most miserable year of my young life. Aside from my loneliness, I had to deal with an alcoholic father, an older sister who was materialistic and the confusion that came with the onset of puberty.
Luckily for me, I never turned to drugs or abandoned my studies. I believed that for all the sacrifices she was doing, I owed mama at least good grades. Indeed, I topped the honor roll and was active in extemporaneous speaking, debate, the school paper and other extra curricular activities.
But despite all this, what have stuck in my memory are not the moments when I received medals or trophies. What I remember very well was my disappointment over not seeing the proud and smiling face of my mother.
After five years, my mother was able to save enough to pay back our loan and keep our house. She came home, but I was not able to meet her at the airport since I had exams that day. But when we saw each other two days later, she cried a lot and remarked that there was sadness in my eyes.
I thought her return would the beginning of a better life for all of us. But again I was wrong. A few days after mama’s arrival, my sister ran away, leaving her daughter behind, because she had used the titles to land my mother owned to borrow from the bank. I hated her for the sadness she brought to my mother.
Luckily, my mother had enough money left to redeem the property. But I was filled with anger toward my sister, my brother and my father who all took part in the deal. I was angry with them for reopening a wound that had not even started to heal.
It was only a year ago when my feelings turned from sadness to hatred. Then, I fell in love with Niña, a classmate. Her friends told me that mine was an “impossible dream” because she is Chinese and her parents closely follow old traditions. So, there I was, already torn by family problems and now facing another one caused by discrimination. Despite the pain, I showed a hard and quiet exterior to everyone, my mother included. I was so different from what I was when I was a kid.
I was in this state of confusion when, on my way home to our boarding house one night, I saw a falling star. Somehow it made me remember my childhood thoughts. And for the first time in five years, I began to pray. I quickly realized that I didn’t know whom to pray to anymore and that a lot of the good things I believed in when I was young, I had lost along the way.
Looking back now, I believe that no life can go so wrong that it can’t be turned right. That no sadness could not eventually be turned into happiness. When I saw a falling star, I told myself that I would not let pain change who I am and that I would not let myself be isolated from everyone because of the problems I face.
It was then that things started going right for me. My healing started. My mother again became my best friend and we started to catch up on what we had missed in the past five years. Over her parents’ reservations, Niña and I became friends and then sweethearts. We look at the problems that stand between us as something that can be overcome. For the first time in my life, I have found someone I trust enough to share the past I hated and the future I fear, and it makes things so much easier to carry. I have rediscovered what it is to be happy again. I no longer focus on the problems I have or the things I could have done in the past.
I saw a falling star, and its glory lasted a mere fraction of a second. But it made me feel that God actually remembered me. He let me know that He was out there somewhere, waiting for me.
I don’t know if I will see another falling star. But I can feel its magic every time I look into the eyes of the persons I love.
