Woes

It was Christmas Eve, when my friend, Mitch, called me. The first thing I did upon answering his call was to greet him a Merry Christmas, but his response was not what I expected. He called to say that he and his family were in the hospital. They met an accident on their way to their grandmother’s house. Their car collided with a van when they tried to avoid hitting a woman crossing the street.
I went to the hospital and found Mitch on the lobby with his younger sister, Sara. Both of them had wounds and bruises on their foreheads, arms and legs, but the injuries were not severe. I sat beside them and asked what happened to their parents. Mitch shook his head.
“They’re dead,” he said desolately. “They did not survive. The doctor told us that they did their best to save our parents, but . . .” Then Mitch started to cry. He hugged his sister but Sara just stared blankly on the atmosphere. She was not crying nor reacting to her brother’s embrace. I did not think she even noticed me. She just stared blankly on the atmosphere.
“What happened to Sara?” I asked.
“She was traumatized by the incident,” Mitch answered. “She’s really close to our parents, especially to our mom. Maybe it will take a long time before she can recover. Our parents’ death is terrible. I don’t know how will we adjust to the loss.”

I could not describe what I felt at that moment. I was talking to my friend, but I was really speechless. I did not know what to say, but I kept on asking him details about the incident. I did not know what to do. Just then, I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. It took me several moments before I realized I was crying.

I covered my face because I did not want Mitch to think that I pity them. I was crying not because of pity but because of empathy and fear. If I were on their shoes, I would feel the same. I would not know how to adjust and how to live life again. I would definitely find it hard to move on. Of course, I do not want the incident to happen to our family. I would certainly not survive the loss, or perhaps I would get traumatized like Sara.
Worst of all, the tragedy occurred on Christmas, the day itself. It turned the special holiday into a day of lamenting and sorrow. But maybe the incident was not a mere account of sadness and destruction. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. God will never let things happen without a reason.
I wiped my tears and found their grandmother walking towards us. I stood up and greeted her and offered her my seat.
“Mitch, grandson,” their grandmother began. “I’m here for you.”
Mitch looked at the old woman and hugged her. His sister, Sara, noticed their grandmother. Sara hugged her and sobbed.
I could not stop my tears from falling. I stood up and headed towards the exit. I was deeply moved by the warmth they showed one another. And then, I knew. . . Things happen for a reason, and their parent’s death certainly has a reason. The parents’ love for them did not vanish when they died, but took its form in the love, warmth and comfort of an elderly family member: their grandmother.