Kimberly, I think, was her name. She died in battle between government forces and communist insurgents. Her pretty and youthful face was in the front page of PDI last week with a story of an idealist, fresh out of college, taking the bullet for the principles she believed was worth dying for. Twenty years ago, I was in the same situation as she was. Thinking about it, I am glad that I survived the struggle and still alive living a mainstreamed life. Luck may have played a great part of making it through but a lot of lipat-bahay and pagpag helped break the patterns. Looking back, I do not regret making that decision and I would do it again if the circle comes around. Surely, Kimberly did not die a futile death. It was hers to offer for the belief that her sacrifice was, though a minute step, a contribution to attain a more noble and humane society for all.
It was the scariest afternoon of my sister's life, I suppose. Her son Osel, a lad aged 15, went for a long and far walk to a schoolmate's house on the other side of the city. Being a teenage boy, this may seem like an ordinary and normal adventure of exploring the city. Except that Osel was diagnosed with autism at the age of 3 and has since been a special child that requires the full time care of his mother and the understanding of people around him. As a toddler, he was doing odd things like spinning on the floor, mumbling to himself in a different language, and sticking his head against the TV screen. He would not look at you straight in the eye and has difficulty in communicating. And he had a whole bunch of fixations at different stages, one after the other. Osel had difficulty eating when he was younger and had a number of food items deleted from his diet including chocolates which the doctor says increases hyperactivity. And the worst part is the absence of the concept...
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