We have known each other ever since elementary. Our friendship back then might be silent, distant at times, and devoid of close contacts and gestures simply because you had your own circle of friends and I had mine. But if there’s something that will forever be indelible in my heart, it will be the last moment I had with you at your last day. Because among all the encounters I had with you ever since childhood, that moment was the most intimate, the most genuine, and the most gentle which I will safe keep inside my heart for the rest of my life.
To tell you honestly, aside from my brother’s death, your demise affected me in ways I did not expect. That morning when I held your hand to pray for you, when you leaned over my shoulder and cried up to that evening when I and Rea were outside the OR praying, waiting, bargaining for a glimpse of hope that you will come out from the door alive was tantamount to the pain and denial back when I lost my brother unexpectedly. I was broken beyond words time and again. My scars were bleeding time and again. Perhaps, I have never mastered the pain of facing an “untimely death” —the kind of death I was left unprepared. Just like my brother, you left silently. You left without complaints. You left without warnings.
It has been a week when I soaked myself up with pain of losing someone so dear over again, with emptiness over again, with anger over again, with confusion as to where God was in moments like that over again. A week when I should have seen purpose but did not. A week when I should have been strong but did not. A week of trying to focus for my upcoming exam but did not. All because the wound was too deep I could scarcely breathe when crying.
Then this text of yours, which you sent the night before you were operated, dawned to me. Yes, I was blinded but it is in that blindness that God slowly shed His light. He allowed me to be broken so I could realize all the more the word “surrender” through you. That’s my answer! God’s greatest work in you was indeed your brave heart.
Amidst your serious condition, you chose to battle it on your own when your family and friends were readily available. Amidst your weakness, you chose to be silent when you could ask for help. Amidst your fear, you chose to stay calm. Amidst your doubt, you chose to trust. Amidst your last, you chose to surrender.
Thank you yeng! You have given the word “surrender” a whole new meaning to me. You have put so much weight to it. Your courage was beyond definition and I salute you for that. You are an epitome of what it takes to surrender—FAITH.
I love you with the love of Christ. Like what I said to you when I hugged you that morning which I did not know why that came out from me among all the words but later realized that perhaps it was the Holy Spirit, “Be at peace with Jesus."
Please hug my brother Joshua for me. No goodbyes. Till we meet in heaven. ❤
To tell you honestly, aside from my brother’s death, your demise affected me in ways I did not expect. That morning when I held your hand to pray for you, when you leaned over my shoulder and cried up to that evening when I and Rea were outside the OR praying, waiting, bargaining for a glimpse of hope that you will come out from the door alive was tantamount to the pain and denial back when I lost my brother unexpectedly. I was broken beyond words time and again. My scars were bleeding time and again. Perhaps, I have never mastered the pain of facing an “untimely death” —the kind of death I was left unprepared. Just like my brother, you left silently. You left without complaints. You left without warnings.
It has been a week when I soaked myself up with pain of losing someone so dear over again, with emptiness over again, with anger over again, with confusion as to where God was in moments like that over again. A week when I should have seen purpose but did not. A week when I should have been strong but did not. A week of trying to focus for my upcoming exam but did not. All because the wound was too deep I could scarcely breathe when crying.
Then this text of yours, which you sent the night before you were operated, dawned to me. Yes, I was blinded but it is in that blindness that God slowly shed His light. He allowed me to be broken so I could realize all the more the word “surrender” through you. That’s my answer! God’s greatest work in you was indeed your brave heart.
Amidst your serious condition, you chose to battle it on your own when your family and friends were readily available. Amidst your weakness, you chose to be silent when you could ask for help. Amidst your fear, you chose to stay calm. Amidst your doubt, you chose to trust. Amidst your last, you chose to surrender.
Thank you yeng! You have given the word “surrender” a whole new meaning to me. You have put so much weight to it. Your courage was beyond definition and I salute you for that. You are an epitome of what it takes to surrender—FAITH.
I love you with the love of Christ. Like what I said to you when I hugged you that morning which I did not know why that came out from me among all the words but later realized that perhaps it was the Holy Spirit, “Be at peace with Jesus."
Please hug my brother Joshua for me. No goodbyes. Till we meet in heaven. ❤
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