To the Nameless

Dear Nameless,

I do not know you, moving about in the aftermath of a tragedy so horrible that you find yourself in a hellish nightmare of a life. I see you — father, mother, son, daughter — in the anguish of despair, in the silence of shock, in the wild-eyed fear of survival. I see your face through my screen, this impersonal box that brings to my space the horrors of reality that nature can create in this modern world. Cushioned in my room, I stare, hoping to reach you. I, the strong, sit, in my own anguish feeling helpless, impotent and so helpless.

And so I try to move through my days, helping with relief operations, connecting people and networks hoping that in some small way, I am making a difference. Your face stares at me upon my waking and upon my dreaming, too, as a part of me, in constant prayer for you, for whatever it can be for your survival, for your peace of mind, for your healing — reach you.

With social media I work, connecting information, trying to create some seeming order from all the news I post, and repost, read, share and “like.”

My days bring the demands and responsibilities of life, but they hum around me, a veil present there. My core keeps connected, in some unexplainable way, to you. I change my plans, my Christmas shopping list torn away. The haunting power of your face cannot be erased from my mind. What is the point of all this, you question. Would not death just take you, too?

And so I sit in silence, during times when there can be nothing more I can do, hoping that the silence of breathing in your face and enveloping this with light would somehow make a difference.

I watch, as the global world comes in to help, for you Nameless one, have triggered their hearts to open. You have challenged our view of an ordered world and a benevolent God. You have slowed down the speed and busyness of our lives, that for a moment, we stop to realize what life is about — humanity sharing, in compassion, regardless of color, station of life and creed.

I see your face — child, boy, girl — smiling and laughing. And my heart, already broken, finds hidden tears in seeing that the innocence of childhood break through the sham and misery of life. I see your face, infant child, gasping for the breath of life, lying on a cold board amidst the ruins of a church, oblivious to the state you have entered to experience life in.

Would it that my light reach you through this crucible we move through together? I would hold you in my arms to tell you that there is a hope that bridges all understanding. That the human soul’s dive into the darkness is itself its transformation. And our evolution together. That the perfection of the “universal good” shall bring forth the blessings in all this, once we see beyond the darkness of this night.

I take each moment, each day as it comes and you will do, too. In trying to find food, bury the dead, rebuild your home; in trying to be strong when you see your loved ones in great difficulty. I will reach you beyond the rationed food, the Band-Aid clean-up efforts and the chaos of trying to bring about order. I will reach you when you will need to try to stand to rebuild your life, plant your crops and begin your livelihood over. I will reach you when the schools need to be built, for the young to once more have the chance to learn. I will reach you through the years as we once more try to make the land green, vibrant and fruitful, and the laughter of prosperity fills the air.

For now, I am stretching, giving until I can feel the pain. In our shared suffering, I suddenly know you: Filipino — of my blood and my race. And we are one, taking strength together, even as we have suffered through the history of our people, through the corruption of leaders, through the earthquakes, typhoons and storm surges that have broken and swept away everything… except our spirits.

But can you hear that?  â€œMabuhay!” echoing, faint though it may be. Ma-buhay… â€œto be alive,” “to have life,” this is what we are telling the world together. Have we not given the world our peaceful revolutions, our colorful celebrations of fiestas, of life…can you not hear the resounding greeting of â€œMabuhay!” we now shout out together?

I am holding your hand.

Signed,

Another Nameless.