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One evening, the father of a family invited his son to pray. He said, "halika anak, ipagdasal natin si Juan de la Cruz na kapitbahay natin, kasi kawawa siya. Walang gustong tumulong sa kanya. Ipagdasal natin sa Diyos na tulungan siya." The son responded, "Itay, bakit pa natin iistorbohin ang Diyos? Andito naman na tayo ah, tulungan na lang kaya natin, itay? Punta na tayo sa kanya, itay." Then the father was so speechless; never knew what to respond to his son.

HE WAS DEAD ALREADY. I was so speechless, so nervous; as if numbness covered my body.

(…………)

2PM of July 21. I heard a voice outside. I went out to satisfy my curiousity and wonder why at the middle of siesta, somebody was knocking at my room, which was so unusual. Our companion in the convent told me in a very gentle way that there were people downstairs who badly needed my clerical assistance…Oh! Their relative was in the hospital; I was asked humbly to give the sacrament that a sick person, or shall I say, a dying one has to receive.

Without any second thought, I hurriedly went with them, carrying with me my anointing kit. It has been inculcated in me that there is a great value on this sacrament (not undermining the remaining six) and on the part of the recipient. And this must be my personal and valid reason why I willingly gave up the comfort brought by a siesta bed.

From the convent, five-minute travel to the hospital could be the maximum time to drive a vehicle ( I just rode; the convent driver did his part).

When I got off, I followed those relatives going to the sick. When I got in, people were surrounding the fourteen-year old boy lying on the bed. The people out there were bursting –into tears. In the midst of those groanings, it was a very common reaction on my part not to invite crowd to pray instantly…but deep within were those fervent prayers offered for the then Frederick. Yes, that’s his name.

As I was mercifully looking at Frederick, he obviously appeared to me so helplessly. I tried myself to approach the corpse despite the  presence of numerous relatives and friends of him. Suddenly I touched the body with different injected apparatus. Then I invited those present to fervently pray. Aware that I was a priest, I led the prayer entrusting Frederick into the bosom of our Almighty. Then I applied and poured out holy water on his head, the arms and the feet. Afterwhich, I laid my right palm on his head without explicitly uttering any word from my lips. And I placed the crucifix on his palm signifying that in mind, ading (a call for a younger brethren) may Christ Jesus welcome you. And I turned my attention to the Lord; with all humility and trust, here is Frederick. We ended up our prayer calling out the Blessed Mother to intercede.

I went nearby the mother of Frederick who at that time kept on groaning. Her sweat ran out profusely. After quite long time, the mother sat down, and I wanted to show that I was willing to listen whatever she would tell me there and then (Mind you, I do not possess any psychological tactics). She spontaneously narrated the situation of Frederick before the last breath had been taken away. As part of her narration, she was holding on to a miracle –miracle that her son could come back to life. But at that incidence, I did not say "It is the will of God." Rather, I just whispered,"Stay beside your son." The mother nodded. That gesture of nodding and the statement uttered, I believe, would suffice for any mother in the world to understand the meaning behind it. No "why’s" to be asked; just simply a nod.

As to the other detailed story about Frederick, let it be etched only in the minds of those present in that situation. But there is assurance that no violence exists upon the cause of his death. What is important for us to know is that even in the last breath of Frederick, his loved ones were there. The physical presence of his relatives was of great implication of love, care and support.

Before I went out of the room, I stared at Frederick. That stare implied that he always will be part of my prayers. Though I do not know him personally, I do not make any justified reason not to pray for him. If so, then I would neglect my mission to exercise such prayers even for the dead. And to pray as well for the relatives and friends of Frederick, especially his mother, his father.

I bade goodbye to Frederick with the last prayer at that time: "May all the holy angels and the saints welcome you and guide you in trekking the path going back to the Most Holy."

WHEN THE BIBLE ASKS believers to forgive injuries, it gives only one reason: we ourselves have received forgiveness from God. The best way to show our gratitude is to pass it on, to extend forgiveness to one another. We should, as St. Paul says beautifully, "bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another, as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do (Colossians 3,13). This does not mean that we condone the injury or pretend that it did not hurt. Often it will take some time and arguing with ourselves before we finally are able to reach the point of forgiveness. Even from a purely psychological standpoint, forgiveness is healthier than its opposite –remaining stuck in resentment. After all, our anger is having no effect on the one it is directed at; we are the only ones in pain. So now there’s a double penalty: the original injury plus our ruminating over it. Why not let go? (…) Forgiveness is basically a deep-down decision of our own will. It takes place in the recessess of our own heart. And usually it is the fruit of prayere. Seeking reconciliation is one of the great themes of Scripture. The story of the prodigal son’s return to his father is one that most of us remember. We identify with and are moved by it, because it touches a deep human need. When we mess up, we need to know that we will be given a second chance. In the story of the prodigal son, it is THE SON WHO SEEKS THE FATHER’S FORGIVENESS. But what if the roles are reversed? WHAT IF IT IS THE FATHER… WHO NEEDS FORGIVENESS?

The title "The Prodigal Father" has been derived from a certain author Nil Guillemette. The pregnant ideas have been inspired by Martin Pable in his The Quest for the Male Soul. In Search of Something More.

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