DELA CERNA
Since November has been named Children’s Month (it used to be in October), I pause to reflect on my interaction with children while NGOs and other advocacy groups root for children’s rights and the aggressive campaign against trafficking of children.
While remembering the line up of the beloved dead, I singled out one very memorable moment when I held the hands of a dying child.
I was in high school when I heard from my close relatives about our hydrocephalic cousin in the city who was described as having a very huge head and a small body.
Then when I was entering freshman college at STC, I stayed with the family of my hydrocephalic cousin whose father was my uncle and they lived in J. Kabahar , Guadalupe.
His name was Tonying, for Antonio because he was born on the feast day of St. Anthony de Padua.
Tonying was five years old with the body of a five month old baby and a very huge head that he could not even turn his body left or right.
Tonying was handsome but his eyes were slowly affected by the growth of his head.
He would twitch his head in pain caused by the sore of his head, but he would kick his feet when he was happy.
He could not talk but he would react when I played with him while constantly calling his name.
He loved it when I held his hand.
Before the end of the first semester of my first year, Tonying was getting weaker.
Then one day while playing with him he would not let go of my hand as I said goodbye because I had to go to school.
His grip was so hard that I decided to stay until he stopped.
I thought he was just sleeping but then his hand became cold and he was no longer breathing.
Then I called the yaya and told her to call my uncle and aunt and then ask the neighbor to call for a priest.
Tonying looked like an angel on bed as we awaited for the arrival of the priest.
He was buried the next day at the Calamba cemetery and I led the prayers for nine days.
The moment when he held hard my hand was memorable to me — he was not alone — as he was always left alone by the yaya who was also the house helper.
The impact of my short moment with Tonying was such that I developed a soft spot for little boys.
In the mid 1990s, my brother and I moved to our recent residence in a village with a chain of townhouses in the northern district of Cebu City.
My right next door neighbor had a little boy born six years ago who became a frequent visitor of the house since age two.
This came at a time after my brother passed away.
His name is Troy Elijah, a beautiful name, a combination of the classical and the biblical.
His favorite spot was my bedroom in the second floor which was air conditioned where he loved to play with his toys and did some drawings and painting.
I always had a supply of crayons, colored pens, multicolored pentel pens and bond papers because he would bring home some of these pens.
His drawings filled up the wall of the room so I collected them, placed them in a big brown envelope and gave to his parents.
I still see a few of these drawings hanging in their sala.
He was always a learner for he would do or help what I was doing at home every time he was around.
Before he started going to school he would be in the house morning and early evening.
Sometimes he would bring his breakfast to the house and join me for breakfast.
He always shared the events of the day.
When he started to go to school and already a constant user of the tablet and the smart phone, his visits were not so frequent but always informed me of his latest toy.
Every time he left or arrived he would call out my name to greet.
He could be mischievous sometimes but I like his mischief because it is witty.
Then I remember Tonying, how he missed being a five year old.
This is what I share with Troy to relish the life of a bubbly six-year-old and the love and care of his parents.
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