It was mid-afternoon, one of the most
perfect times of the day to read a good book, so I found myself a comfortable
part of the couch beside Erin, the two-year elder of my two granddaughters, who
was taking a nap. They were with my
husband and me for the care taking as my daughter and her husband, who both
worked at the Philippine Military Academy, were out - that left just the four
of us then in the house. So while the other one, Elise, my four-month old younger
granddaughter, was also sleeping in her crib, my husband was at the dining
table cleaning his 45 pistol, to be ready for military duty the next morning. Nice,
quiet family moment, I thought.
In a bit of a while from that idyllic
instance, it arrested my attention – that slight sway from an earthquake. To me, this wasn’t really out of the ordinary
at all. We’ve had earthquakes now and
then but just the way it was at that point in time – gentle, soothing,
momentary and then gone. But then, as if
awkwardly and contrariwise, the swaying went on. It went on. It went on. And then, instead of slowly
leaving, it suddenly became violently jarring that it simply shattered one of the window panes nearby. That
alone sent a big piece of glass flying to me and the moment stood still - but God-guided, it thankfully landed on the
floor instead. I instinctively stood up
to go for our little one in the crib while my husband, too, literally flew to
the other one at the couch. I must have made a superwoman-dash because I barely
escaped a whole, big, china cabinet crash me to the floor, followed by
another one each sending books, together with wooden, ceramic and broken glass pieces flying left and
right. Picture frames swung from side to
side and furniture slid back and forth in dance – the house was now in crazy
pandemonium.
Well, the violence kept on. My God, it
just kept on and on and on and on. The neighborhood was now in hysterics as
with a child each tight in our arms, my husband and I joined them outside. Most
of them were prostrate on the ground screaming
and scared dead. Not only were they down
there in prayer, but also, most of them were practically flung down by the now gigantic shakes and with
nowhere to cling to. I was heavenly fortunate, however, that I had my husband. Like the military man that he was, he stood
his upright stance right there in the middle of the chaotic environment with a
child in his right arm and his left gathering me with my share of the children firmly
close to him. At that very moment, I
never felt so safe and secure and so loved and cared for as I gratefully leaned towards the strength-sharing beating of
his heart.
Yes, we stood there counterbalancing
each other, my husband and I, as simultaneously and together, we tried to
counter the continuing magnitude of the earth’s vicious attempt to shake us
down. And as I watched the raging swing
of the trees, of the electric lines and of the water-spilling tanks in the
military home compound we were in, my thoughts now roamed to my family. Oh merciful God, where were my children? I
had my husband with me, thank heaven. I had my grandchildren with me, thank you,
Lord. And I wondered, will we survive? But where were my children, my frantic
thoughts now crushed my heart into bleeding.
My daughter and her husband were out
there at work within the city; are they safe? This time I was distraught for
them as I went on non-stop, dear God, please spare them, please spare them, I
whispered. And my son! My son was out of
country! He was out there in Japan, which was another earthquake country! My
frightened thoughts doubled! No, they multiplied! They multiplied fantastically fast! But somehow, I calmed a teeny-weeny bit at the
fact that the earthquake was at my end, not his. Still, my heart ached at the thought of the
distance that came in between us those unsettling moments; and my mind numbed
at the realization that with communications held at abeyance, he would be as
keyed-up as I was and I wished he was spared that. All in that one moment, I
was out of myself, out into some space
where never ever was my heart and my mind – and in a mix of fear, uncertainty
and bewilderment! So went on the seven-point-seven shake in Baguio’s
part of the earth, shaking our lands, our homes, our bodies and spirits into
kingdom come through out the whole duration it lasted.
History accounts for the deaths and the
destruction it left us but also of the resiliency of our people and the return
of Baguio to its former glory. I had my
share of the total earthquake experience but happily, mine was also encapsulated
in that particular love and strength that sustained me – nothing in this world
like family warmth that transcended difficulty in time and space, even if it
settled, then, only in the mind.
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