15 and counting

I would like to yield my space today to entrepreneur Wawel Mercado, who just marked the 15th anniversary of his marriage to Mila. She has been completely paralyzed  due to an embolism she suffered in 1996, the first year of their marriage and the year their daughter Therese was born. He writes an essay on this milestone in his life. To those of us who waver when difficulties stare at us will be awestruck and inspired by Wawel’s unconditional love for his wife. A further introduction to the piece would be superfluous, so here it is:

2 January 2011

In a blink of an eye, Mila and I are 15 years married.

I have streaks of gray hair on my head, flat warts on my face, and a heavy paunch.  Although Mila’s face remains youthful, her back and neck are bent at steeper angles. Her fingers, hands and arms are curled up and deformed by spasticity and contractures.  And she seems to tire more easily, unable to sit up on her wheelchair for longer than an hour. Therese is a teenager, in second year high school, with an interest in fashion. She no longer plays with the Bratz dolls that she once loved so much. Soon she will be in college. 

We have aged.

My wish for Mila to miraculously recover, regain her faculties, and resume her normal life has all but vanished. If fairy tales do come true, and she would suddenly wake up today all normal, I would surely be elated. But I would not know what to do, I would not know how to start over again.

But it does not mean that I have become a cynic, that I have allowed myself to be swallowed up by despair, or that I love her less.

I have just changed. My dreams have changed. My hopes and dreams for my family are very different now compared to what they were when we were newly married.

Back then, I had hoped to be traveling with Mila often, exploring and enjoying the Philippines. Spending summers in some isolated beach resort, scuba diving. We had hoped to spend our Christmas vacations in Baguio, enjoying the cold climate, and the smell of Benguet Pine.

But now, life for us has become less about doing, and more about being.  

Because Mila can do very little with me, I now have this heightened sense that just BEING with her is grace enough. I no longer trouble myself thinking of things to do for her or to do with her. To express my love, I simply have TO BE with her, to accompany her, to stay beside her. That is what her heart and soul longs for. That is where my heart and soul is most at peace. The perfect expression of my married vocation is simply BEING with Mila.

Jean Vanier, founder of L’arche, teaches us that people with intellectual disabilities do not live according to the values of this world. They are unable to strive to become popular, to acquire wealth, to have power and prestige. Yet they live. They love. They are loved. They be. And in their lives they show us the face of God that is not Almighty, not All Powerful, not the King of Kings. Instead, they show us the face of God who was born in a manger, poor and helpless. To share in our humanity. To be with us. To suffer with us. To be God-with-us. Emmanuel.  

Mila has saved my soul. Her daily presence leads me to reflect daily on the meaningfulness of my own life. Am I doing the right thing? Am I spending my time doing good? Am I making a difference in this world, and in the lives of people around me? Am I demonstrating those who are important to me, how much I truly love and appreciate them?

Three years ago, our family started a simple way of expressing our love and appreciation for one another. When we gather for a birthday in the family, we take time to honor the celebrant. Gathering around the dinner table, we take turns telling the celebrant what we appreciate most about him or her. We appreciate Mom for continuing to be productive in her work as an editor and writer, completing Dad’s biography on the 10th anniversary of his death. We appreciate An for successfully being able to balance her career as a magazine editor, and mother to Sam and Diego. We appreciate Robbi for watching over all of us and for being patriarch to our families. We appreciate Miguel for his worry-free spirit and sense of adventure. We appreciate Paolo for his international perspective and calm wisdom. We appreciate Gabe for his deep sense of parenthood towards Beeto. We appreciate Therese for being a role model to her cousins, and for carrying on the kindheartedness of her mother. And so in 2010, I was able to reflect on and express to all those whom I deeply care for and love what I appreciate most about them.

It is Mila who teaches us not to take things for granted, to care for one another, and to take time and effort to express it.

On the weekend before Christmas, I took Mila to the Bukas Palad Christmas Concert at the Gesu. It has been a while since we have attended a BP concert, but I was convinced that it was the perfect way to prepare for Christmas with Mila. We could just sit together in a corner, listen, and sing and pray together with the Bukas Palad. It was a beautiful concert. We met many college friends in the gathering. It was like a reunion. Our souls were enriched by the company of loving friends, and the familiar songs in the Pasko Na album. The song Pamaskong Anyaya seemed to be most meaningful for us at this time:

Do’n sa silangan Niya, tanawin tuwina

Halimbawa ng payak na buhay

Ating iwasan ang pagnanasang lahat ay kamtin

Buhay Niya ang mithiin

Papayapa ang mundo kung tayo’y magbago

Maghintay sa pagsilang ng Kamahal-mahalan

Ihanda ang sarili at ang buong sambayanan

Pagtutunggali’y kalimutan

Pagmamaramot ay talikdan

Anyayahan sa puso’t isip Siyang huwaran

At the intermission midway into the concert, the man sitting beside me gingerly approached us. He introduced himself and told us that he had watched our feature on ANC’s Storyline. He said that he found our story inspiring, and that he was praying for us. He encouraged us to stay strong. I did not know what to say in return. I thanked him. We have been absent from these gatherings for so long that we are no longer used to hearing such kind and gentle words from total strangers. By his gesture, though, I realized that by simply BEING married, by remaining in love, people are able to see the quiet God in us. The God who chose to be born as a helpless child in a manger. The God who accompanies us in our loneliness. The God who is with us. Emmanuel.

This year, my siblings and I have been given the opportunity and gift to take care of our mother. My Mom broke her ankle in a fall last August. Before Mila and I got married, my late father had asked me to live with him and my Mom in their house on Sanso to accompany them into their old age. But because of the emotional turmoil and anguish that I experienced in the early years after Mila’s brain injury, it was more like my father and mother were there to accompany me through those difficult years of healing. Now that my healing is done and my anguish long over, now that I can emotionally stand on my own two feet, it is my turn to help my Mom to get back on her own two feet.

On a rainy August afternoon, Mom slipped and fell on the wet floor of a restaurant in Quezon City and broke the two bones above her right ankle. Because of her age and her brittle bones, the doctors recommended surgery to place metal supports to help mend the broken bones of her leg. But because of her age and her diabetes, recovery for her became painfully slow.

Mom has been a saint in her recovery. She was in constant pain and unable to sleep many weeks after surgery. She was confined to a wheelchair, temporarily unable to walk. She also had to live for many weeks downstairs, in the bedroom that I had vacated for her. Yet we hardly heard her complain. In her most painful days, she would be quiet. I knew she was in great pain because she would eat very little and say very little. She would retire to her room early. In spite of her pain, she continued going to Mass daily, and praying the rosary. Her pain became her silent prayer, offering this most precious gift to Jesus. When she would experience some relief, she would smile and be cheerful. When she experienced strength, she would visit her only surviving sister, now advanced in age.

On New Year’s Eve, I had wanted to spend the evening at my younger brother’s house, together with my daughter and her cousins. But my Mom asked me to stay home. She planned to sleep through the new year, and we had nothing prepared for ourselves that night. Yet she wanted me to remain home. To BE with her. I understood perfectly. And without hesitation, I remained home. I drove my daughter to my brother’s house, but quickly headed back home to have dinner with my Mom. At the turn of midnight, she sent me a text message and thanked me for being home, and for watching over her. I replied: I happily embrace my vocation to take care of her, as I do Mila. 

And so, while many friends and relatives during this season share with us their stories and photos of holiday vacations to faraway wonderful places, we have no photos of our own to contribute, no extraordinary stories to share. Yet I would like to think that our Christmas celebration was no less meaningful. We had spent it BEING with one another, as the Babe had spent his first days in Bethlehem to be with us. He is with us. As Mila has been with us for the last 15 years. Emmanuel.

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(You may e-mail me at [email protected])