Thursday, April 1, 2010

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday and a cup of instant noodles. There is nothing worth watching on cable TV and flipping channels is getting old.

On Saturday, I leave the city with the few close friends I have to stay for one night in one of the resorts in Subic. At this time of the year, people from the city usually go out of town to a beach resort, a camping trip or a retreat in the mountains with their families and friends. This four-day holiday for the Christian world is supposed to be spent on prayer and meditation, on thinking about your life and reparation for your sins, or at least feel remorse for the wrong you have done and ask for forgiveness from whomever you believe will give you the relief from the burden of sin that you have been carrying.

I was raised a devout Catholic, or rather, by devout Catholic parents. Today, as the Christian world remembers how Christ saved them from sins, I thought about how much I miss my family and wondered how I could have let three years pass without trying to make amends with them.

In nearly three years since I last saw anyone from my family, I have felt less and less an orphan, less and less worried that I might not survive being alone, less and less a part of my former family. In three years, I have relied only on myself and my wits to survive and while I cannot say my personal life has been remarkable, I have managed well on my own. It doesn’t mean I don’t think about them. Surely, I have thought about how they are doing, wondering if my little sister still remembers me, wondering about my parents’ health, wondering if they wonder about me, too. In three years, I have lived my life in sin and I have no remorse for what I have done. If my mother knew what has been happening to me all these years, she will find it more difficult to forgive me. If she knew I haven’t sought God’s forgiveness, will she take me back?

It is on holidays such as Christmas and the Holy Week when the need to reconnect with family becomes stronger. There is this gnawing feeling at the pit of my stomach that makes me nervous and scared that I may never have the chance to go back to my family and seek for their forgiveness.

I don’t have a family, not anymore. It is my pride that prevents me from seeing them again. I ran away, promising myself never to come back until I’ve proven to them that I can survive on my own.

I am still alone. I still don’t belong to anyone. I still don’t know the direction I want to take or where the path I am taking will lead me. I live each day of my life as if it was the last, wanting to fall in love, scared to grow old alone because of my own doing.

When all else in my life fails, will I still have a family to come home to?