Catherine is the daughter of my best friend, Al. When she was a toddler, she could not pronounce the nickname “Katkat” that was given her, and in her babyish way, she called herself “TaTa”—and that stuck, at least for me. She has been my “Baby TaTa” since she was one. She is now nine years old—and all this time, I have always been able to hug her, kiss her, hold her hand and have her by my side even if she lives with her parents. I have two nephews and a niece, the children of my judge-brother, and I love them so dearly, but their childhood was not spent with me, as I was then assigned more than a hundred kilometers away from Tuguegarao and would see them only occasionally. TaTa is one case where water can be as thick as blood!
Last week, her dad hurled a thunderbolt at me: He announced that the entire family would be migrating…and soon. I was so stunned, and all I could do was shut down the computer at which I was working, as my mind also shut down. All further rational thought came to a screeching halt, and there followed that dark pall of depression that comes with the nagging thought of an impending and irreparable loss. Those who think that I am taking things a bit too far have not known the love of a child and the love for a child. It is unlike any other, and while I must still find a way of coping with TaTa’s absence, through my grief, my tears, my sleepless nights and listless days, I am grateful for the gift that she has been to me.
I am this deeply wounded because TaTa has been, quite truly, at the center of my life. Some might think that to be my fault, but it was TaTa who as the constant reminder to me of God’s tenderness. Her comments about things she observed let me in into a perspective all hers, that adults and their “mature” thoughts often miss. The world is different from the eyes of a child, and one is foolish who does not see the beauty in what they see! No, I do not regret having lavished TaTa with love and care, affection and attention. In so many ways, she drew me out of my selfishness and, without demanding anything, content with the small, insignificant things that fascinate and entrance a child, she taught me what it was to care for another.
These days, I just amble along: Blankly staring, occasionally finding comfort in the support of loving friends, enjoying as much as I can the time TaTa can still spend with me, remembering that soon, it will be time to board. I am depressed, and clinically so. So has it all been worth it? I could have spared myself all this pain by not loving as earnestly as I did. But for all love, you pay a price, and this is the price I must now pay—and it is worth every tear, every skipped breath, every sleepless night, every anxiety-ridden day. When you spend a lifetime sparing yourself pain and anguish by keeping to yourself and keeping all others a safe distance away, then you will never experience, as I did, the beautiful, inimitable and really divine love that a child can bring into your life. And a life so barren because it is so full of oneself is hardly life at all!
rannie_aquino@csu.edu.ph
rannie_aquino@sanbeda.edu.ph
rannie_aquino@outlook.com
