Spaces

FR. FRANCIS ONGKINGCO

There’s that relieving sensation when you have been desperately searching for a parking space for nearly thirty minutes and suddenly a vehicle a few meters from you exits to give you that longed for providential space.

“Whew! At last!” I said to myself and whispered a grateful prayer to my guardian angel.

The previous vehicle had left a very narrow space. I’m not very good at backing up.

I had to do four maneuvers just to properly align myself and allow a small space for me to squeeze out of the door.

A van in front of me started to vacate his space.

It was a wider space and I thought I could very well just transfer there.

Even before I could shift that thought into a gear, another van suddenly appeared from nowhere and in one skillful maneuver occupied the coveted slot.

“Whaaa!” I screamed.

The driver was wearing dark shades, earphones and a red baseball cap.

He removed his glasses and stared at me with a wide irritating grin saying, “This is my spot!”

I could have easily vented my anger over this steal.

But how could I when that familiar face of an old friend could be clearly discerned through the misty windshield of the van.

Ed, who starts to sweat with the slightest temperature change, is like a portable sauna bath.

“Fathuuuur!” Ed stuck his head out of the window nearly hitting the next car’s side mirror.

“Ed? I thought you were in Vietnam?” Ed is an American freelance writer.

“Yeah, but the wife wanted to visit her relatives, ye know!”

He alighted from the van.

Imagine what it might be like for an elephant to squeeze inside and outside of an elevator?

Well, Ed, towering six feet and two hundred pounds, could easily beat that.

Ed was never insecure about his size.

He always said beneath those layers, God had given him a perennial joy and optimism to face life and of course, ooze out of narrow corridors and parking slots.

“What are ye doing here, Father!” He asked.

“I’m going to visit my grandparent’s grave.”

“Well, Natalie asked me to get some food for lunch and also an umbrella.”

“Ed, you haven’t changed a bit!”

He was carrying or there were stuck to him a picnic basket in one arm, an umbrella in the other and clipped two small folding chairs under his left arm.

“Need a hand?” I offered.

“Nope, I’m purrrfectly all right with this!”

[GRUMBLE]

“Where are Natalie and the kids,” I asked.

“There, he pointed by puckering his lips and protruding his chin,” he’d been so long in the Philippines to already take to our unique forms of body communication.

“Hey, I’m headed that way too!”

[GRUMBLE]

“Father, don’t worry, I’ve memorized every inch of the cemetery.”

[GRUMBLE]

As we waded through the crowd, Ed kept on saying “excuse me!” and “oops, sorry!” as his umbrella gutted an old man, the picnic basket toppled a flower vase and his butt nearby catapulted a woman out of her chair.

[GRUMBLE]

“Ah, we’re here!” Ed dropped all the stuff on the ground.

“Where are Natalie and the kids, Ed?” I looked around.

“They’re kindda supposed to be here….”

[RIIIING!!!]

“Yeh, honey! I’m now with Father Francis, and…,” he paused.

Ed’s now drench face contorted with confusion.

“Whaaat!!! You’re in another cemetery?”

Ed shrugged his shoulders.

[GRUMBLE]

“Ah, Father, I guess I’m stuck with you for now. Why don’t we then visit your relatives and I’ll meet up with Natalie and the kids later.”

“What about their lunch?”

“Not to worry. Natalie said she already bought some food.”

[GRUMBLE] [GRUMBLE]

“But how are we going to finish all that food, Ed?”

[GRUMBLE] [GRUMBLE] [GRUMBLE]

“Don’t worry, Father,” he patted his tummy.

[GRUMBLE] [GRUMBLE] [GRUMBLE] [GRUMBLE]

“There’s a lot of space here for that!”

He pitched the umbrella and we had lunch.