HELP FROM BEYOND
HELP FROM BEYOND
(The Ghost of Christmas)
by mimi illenberger mapa
(The Ghost of Christmas)
by mimi illenberger mapa
Such people are free of fear. They are not afraid to die because they believe death does not mean the end of existence but the beginning of a new life – a whole new form of existence. In a way their belief insulates them from grief because to them, the dead are very much around…albeit unseen.
While attending the wake of a neighbor, I chanced upon an old balikbayan friend whom I hadn’t seen in almost two decades. We giggled and pinched each other like we were wont to do in college as we shared funny stories and anecdotes. But when I mentioned I was now a creative writer and into paranormal research for ghost stories and strange tales assignments, she suddenly quieted down and turned serious. My career shift must have come as a shock because the last time we talked I was a business teacher at Xavier University and she was working with a bank.
“Writing about the supernatural doesn’t sound like you, Amiga” she kept looking around rather furtively, her voice reduced to almost a whisper. This was ridiculous, was she afraid someone might hear us? But why?
With eyes darting around she monotoned “ I’ve changed too. Do you know that I now believe ghosts and spirits are for real ?”
It was my turn to be surprised because this was so unlike my friend. Ever since our freshman year in the university, Lily Ann had been the tough as nails, no nonsense type of coed. She was not inclined towards anything whimsical. Reading materials, movies or conversation that bordered on “flights of fancy” did not appeal to her. She was independent, practical and down to earth – the type of person who believed only what her five senses told her; the kind who insisted “ If you cant see it, touch it , hear it, smell it or taste it.. then darling, it ain’t real.”
Why the change of heart? When I admitted my ghost stories were mostly tales I picked up from the countryside and were unsubstantiated, hence categorized under Fiction and/or Entertainment Lily frowned and admonished me.
“ Never scoff at the tales you pick up from people who come forward and bravely share their encounters. Our loved ones are still very much with us, Amiga. It doesn’t mean just because we can’t see them or hear them, they’re gone.” Lily’s voiced cracked with conviction.
For Christmas, Lily Ann Bito-on Whyte shares with us her “true story.” It is a moving tale. Judge for yourself :
The Ghost of Christmas
After my older sister was born, mother developed a thyroid problem that made it difficult for her to conceive. It took all of eight years before she became pregnant with me and it had been a long, drawn out struggle not to miscarry. Fortunately for her, however, I was born right on schedule, the normal way, and without the expected complications. Needless to say, my parents, my grandma and specially my older sister were beside themselves with happiness as they welcomed the long awaited bundle of joy. From day one it was apparent who the “boss” in the family was… it was the cuddly charmer with a lusty cry ! Just a yelp from her brought everyone rushing to see what was wrong.
Mine was a happy, protected childhood. But things drastically changed when Ate Eleanor married and followed her husband – Kuya Roy- to Canada. I had just graduated from high school and the prospect of being by my lonesome in the university without Ate filled me with dread. But of course, I was not going to admit this to anybody. After all, my grandma would still be with me.
But the vagaries of life threw awry all our best laid plans. My dotting Lola died in her sleep two weeks before our scheduled trip for Manila. I was completely devastated. Now, looking back I suspect it was at this point I began toughen up. I was drawn to this sorority of older and modern young women who amazed me with their “liberalism”. They called themselves “Sisterhood of Free Thinkers”. I found their hedonistic lifestyle - sans regrets and restrictions- very liberating.
The sisterhood encouraged us to enjoy life to the hilt because that was all we had! Without my knowing it, my personality was slowly being reshaped. My close ties with them had turned me into a hedonist and perhaps even into an agnostic of sorts. I openly declared that everybody had the right to do everything in their power to achieve the greatest amount of pleasure possible to them as long as they do not infringe on the equal rights of others. I also began doubting the existence of a supreme power and openly declared religions had no basis in modern logic, that all those who blindly believed in the dogmas of faith were like dumb, driven cattle who chose not to think for themselves. I became a non-believer of things spiritual and rejected the teachings of my childhood faith.
The years rolled by. Upon graduation, I was hired by a multinational bank based in Singapore as one of their junior financial consultants. I was just ten months into my job when father called and asked me, rather nervously, If I could please come home and temporarily take over the reins of our flourishing agri-business. His voiced cracked as he explained the situation.
My Ate Eleanor was very sick. Her second pregnancy had developed serious post-partum complications with the birth of her twins. This ,of course,alarmed us me. Unhesitatingly, I filed an indefinite leave of absence and flew back to Manila .
“ Omnipotent and merciful God , please let everything be okay.” I was , all of a sudden in a prayerful mode.
We were all teary eyed in the airport. Mom and Dad promised to come home as soon as Ate Eleanor was back on her feet. As father hugged me, he whispered, “ Help us pray. for your sister, hija. God needs to step into the picture…” I promised him I would. My parents had no idea what I had become in those intervening years in the university.
A year flew by so quickly. Ate had bounced back to health and my parents were able to find an elderly kababayan to work for her as a full time domestic assistant. Mom and Dad were now scheduled to fly home before Christmas. I was elated and excited.
“ Redeemer of Mankind, thank you.” The need to reach out to Him in prayer was strong.
But once again fate had other plans for the family. In the midst of their happy preparations to return to Manila, Father suffered a massive stroke and died without regaining consciousness. Mother and Ate decided there was no point of holding a wake and so the body was kept in a freezer and cremated forty eight hours later.
I was grief stricken and devastated. I walked around the house with glazed eyes, completely numb with pain and unable to cry. My mind refused to accept my father’s passing and my entire being balked at the thought that I had to be the one to tell everybody that father was gone. I was also terrified that my mother might not also make it home.. She had taken my father’s sudden passing very badly and was not allowed to travel just yet by herself.
For decades, it had been a family tradition to spend Christmas Eve with the farm hands and their families. There were prizes, cash gifts and loyalty awards that needed to be personally handed out by me. I knew everybody had looked forward to this moment and here I was, like some like some errant kid, refusing to make the inevitable announcement …that my dad was gone.
I was in a quandary and my mind was not on my driving. I forgot to slow down as I approached the railway that crossed the national road that led to our property. The Toyota engine sputtered as the car jolted to a stop when the front tires hit the steel tracks, settling on a groove.
After several unsuccessful attempts to restart the car, I saw the red light flash as warning bells began to clang. I knew this meant the giant locomotive was only a few minutes away. I panicked. I did not want to leave father’s newly acquired Toyota Crown on the train’s path.
“Papa ! “ I screamed.
I felt a strong push from behind and the stalled vehicle, heavy with young coconuts and soft drink bottles in its luggage compartment, was lifted and dislodged from the groove. It went up the steep little incline and rolled down to settle safely on a grassy patch ten meters away from the railroad tracks,.
The earth shook as the giant locomotive thundered past. I knew it was such a close call. I was shaking lie a leaf as I went out of the car to thank whoever it was who risked his life to help me. Except for the few cars that zoomed past, seemingly unaware by the near collision, I was by myself in that long dark stretch. The evening air had turned frigid and my teeth were chattering.
An old battered station wagon suddenly crawled to a stop. A man about my father’s age hailed me. “ Need any help Lily? Where’s Compadre Fred? I saw him pushing your car.”
It was Tito Nene, my father’s good friend and fishing crony. He said from a distance he caught sight of my father, all dressed up in Barong Tagalog. He was astonished because he knew father had a bad heart and was not allowed to strain himself. When I told Tito Nene that Papa was dead, he was stunned.
It was the first time I had admitted to anybody that my father was gone. The terrible grief that was all bottled inside me spilled over uncontrollably. I sank to my knees and bawled like a baby.
“ Papa…Papa ko!”
I believe life goes on after our bodies die…I no longer think of death with apprehension but with anticipation. Papa was there for me when I needed him. I am sure he will be there to welcome me when I cross over. I can hardly wait to see him and grandma again.
After my older sister was born, mother developed a thyroid problem that made it difficult for her to conceive. It took all of eight years before she became pregnant with me and it had been a long, drawn out struggle not to miscarry. Fortunately for her, however, I was born right on schedule, the normal way, and without the expected complications. Needless to say, my parents, my grandma and specially my older sister were beside themselves with happiness as they welcomed the long awaited bundle of joy. From day one it was apparent who the “boss” in the family was… it was the cuddly charmer with a lusty cry ! Just a yelp from her brought everyone rushing to see what was wrong.
Mine was a happy, protected childhood. But things drastically changed when Ate Eleanor married and followed her husband – Kuya Roy- to Canada. I had just graduated from high school and the prospect of being by my lonesome in the university without Ate filled me with dread. But of course, I was not going to admit this to anybody. After all, my grandma would still be with me.
But the vagaries of life threw awry all our best laid plans. My dotting Lola died in her sleep two weeks before our scheduled trip for Manila. I was completely devastated. Now, looking back I suspect it was at this point I began toughen up. I was drawn to this sorority of older and modern young women who amazed me with their “liberalism”. They called themselves “Sisterhood of Free Thinkers”. I found their hedonistic lifestyle - sans regrets and restrictions- very liberating.
The sisterhood encouraged us to enjoy life to the hilt because that was all we had! Without my knowing it, my personality was slowly being reshaped. My close ties with them had turned me into a hedonist and perhaps even into an agnostic of sorts. I openly declared that everybody had the right to do everything in their power to achieve the greatest amount of pleasure possible to them as long as they do not infringe on the equal rights of others. I also began doubting the existence of a supreme power and openly declared religions had no basis in modern logic, that all those who blindly believed in the dogmas of faith were like dumb, driven cattle who chose not to think for themselves. I became a non-believer of things spiritual and rejected the teachings of my childhood faith.
The years rolled by. Upon graduation, I was hired by a multinational bank based in Singapore as one of their junior financial consultants. I was just ten months into my job when father called and asked me, rather nervously, If I could please come home and temporarily take over the reins of our flourishing agri-business. His voiced cracked as he explained the situation.
My Ate Eleanor was very sick. Her second pregnancy had developed serious post-partum complications with the birth of her twins. This ,of course,alarmed us me. Unhesitatingly, I filed an indefinite leave of absence and flew back to Manila .
“ Omnipotent and merciful God , please let everything be okay.” I was , all of a sudden in a prayerful mode.
We were all teary eyed in the airport. Mom and Dad promised to come home as soon as Ate Eleanor was back on her feet. As father hugged me, he whispered, “ Help us pray. for your sister, hija. God needs to step into the picture…” I promised him I would. My parents had no idea what I had become in those intervening years in the university.
A year flew by so quickly. Ate had bounced back to health and my parents were able to find an elderly kababayan to work for her as a full time domestic assistant. Mom and Dad were now scheduled to fly home before Christmas. I was elated and excited.
“ Redeemer of Mankind, thank you.” The need to reach out to Him in prayer was strong.
But once again fate had other plans for the family. In the midst of their happy preparations to return to Manila, Father suffered a massive stroke and died without regaining consciousness. Mother and Ate decided there was no point of holding a wake and so the body was kept in a freezer and cremated forty eight hours later.
I was grief stricken and devastated. I walked around the house with glazed eyes, completely numb with pain and unable to cry. My mind refused to accept my father’s passing and my entire being balked at the thought that I had to be the one to tell everybody that father was gone. I was also terrified that my mother might not also make it home.. She had taken my father’s sudden passing very badly and was not allowed to travel just yet by herself.
For decades, it had been a family tradition to spend Christmas Eve with the farm hands and their families. There were prizes, cash gifts and loyalty awards that needed to be personally handed out by me. I knew everybody had looked forward to this moment and here I was, like some like some errant kid, refusing to make the inevitable announcement …that my dad was gone.
I was in a quandary and my mind was not on my driving. I forgot to slow down as I approached the railway that crossed the national road that led to our property. The Toyota engine sputtered as the car jolted to a stop when the front tires hit the steel tracks, settling on a groove.
After several unsuccessful attempts to restart the car, I saw the red light flash as warning bells began to clang. I knew this meant the giant locomotive was only a few minutes away. I panicked. I did not want to leave father’s newly acquired Toyota Crown on the train’s path.
“Papa ! “ I screamed.
I felt a strong push from behind and the stalled vehicle, heavy with young coconuts and soft drink bottles in its luggage compartment, was lifted and dislodged from the groove. It went up the steep little incline and rolled down to settle safely on a grassy patch ten meters away from the railroad tracks,.
The earth shook as the giant locomotive thundered past. I knew it was such a close call. I was shaking lie a leaf as I went out of the car to thank whoever it was who risked his life to help me. Except for the few cars that zoomed past, seemingly unaware by the near collision, I was by myself in that long dark stretch. The evening air had turned frigid and my teeth were chattering.
An old battered station wagon suddenly crawled to a stop. A man about my father’s age hailed me. “ Need any help Lily? Where’s Compadre Fred? I saw him pushing your car.”
It was Tito Nene, my father’s good friend and fishing crony. He said from a distance he caught sight of my father, all dressed up in Barong Tagalog. He was astonished because he knew father had a bad heart and was not allowed to strain himself. When I told Tito Nene that Papa was dead, he was stunned.
It was the first time I had admitted to anybody that my father was gone. The terrible grief that was all bottled inside me spilled over uncontrollably. I sank to my knees and bawled like a baby.
“ Papa…Papa ko!”
I believe life goes on after our bodies die…I no longer think of death with apprehension but with anticipation. Papa was there for me when I needed him. I am sure he will be there to welcome me when I cross over. I can hardly wait to see him and grandma again.
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