Angels on Halloween

As we start this four day week-end, this column will, likewise, take a break and deviate from its usual fare of legal topics. 

Two days from now, for those of us whose kids have not yet outgrown Santa Claus, we’ll be dutifully accompanying them to Halloween parties or to go “trick or treating.” But for Howie and Marla Calleja, this year’s celebrations will be bittersweet, as they will also be commemorating the first anniversary of the entry of their angel, Minuet, into heaven. 

In honor of her memory, and the memory of all our dearly departed, let me yield this borrowed space for Howie’s reflections:

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For me, Halloween had always been the scariest day of the year. Growing up, I used to associate it with ghosts, demons, and monsters. 

As a child, I always wanted to wear the latest superhero costumes. I continued the tradition, by bringing my children, Minuet and Hugo, trick or treating, wearing their favorite costumes. I also made sure that we visit their grandparents and other relatives so that they would associate Halloween, not only with the celebration it has become, but more importantly for the solemn remembrance of our faithful departed. 

Last October 2010, Minuet, then 5 years old and suffering from lupus, told my wife (Marla) and me that she wanted to be an angel for Halloween, and asked us to look for angel wings that she could wear. Unfortunately, we could not find any that would fit her.

In the early morning of October 29, Minuet suddenly had a seizure, and we immediately rushed her to Makati Medical Center. The next day, while in the ICU, Minuet was feeling better. Her MRI, lumbar tap, and EEG all showed encouraging results. We thought that God had answered our prayers for her speedy recovery. However, in the morning of October 31, things turned from good, to bad, to worse in a matter of hours. 

Shortly before 6 p.m., while I was holding Minuet in my arms, the nurse came in to prepare her for a blood transfusion. Marla had just turned her back to get diapers when, suddenly, I heard Minuet take a deep gasp. Her eyes opened wide, as though to ask me what was happening. In her second gasp, my brother called the doctors — who were all over her in a few minutes — and, as I let go of her hand, the doctors immediately did all that they could to revive and resuscitate her. 

I held on to the rosary, praying and calling her name to fight and be strong. But she breathed her last.

I questioned, I complained, I even doubted God. Why my daughter, who was so young and innocent? What did she do wrong to merit an early death? Little did I know (or realize) that, at the moment I let go of Minuet, her prayers were answered. Papa Jesus and Mama Mary had gifted her with angel wings on Halloween. Indeed, no wings on earth would have fit, as God had one especially made for her in heaven. 

A year later, Marla and I, our family and friends continue to miss Minuet dearly. Yet, we find comfort in the knowledge and faith that Minuet was called by God in His perfect time and welcomed to heaven by all the angels and saints as we celebrated the eve of All Saints’ day.

I will celebrate October 31 as Minuet’s “birthday in heaven” knowing that she is in God’s loving arms. She experienced a miracle a year ago: God took away the pain of her affliction — proof of the miracle of God’s love for Minuet, a love that is far more infinite and eternal than mine.

Today, Halloween for me is no longer about “hauntings” or “trick or treating,” it is about praying and remembering our loved ones. From a holiday, it has become a holyday.

Ghosts no longer scare me. (In fact, I am comforted whenever I see children dressed like angels.) I pray that we all live a blessed life here on earth and, in God’s time, be once again reunited with our loved ones — and for my family, welcomed in heaven’s gates by Angel Minuet.

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“It’s not how long I held you in my arms, what matters is how sweet the years together. It’s not how many summertimes we had to give to fall. The early morning smiles, we wistfully recall.”

We often say that no parent should ever have to bury their child. No words can express the grief that a parent feels, when faced with that loss — and there is no word to describe that state of being suddenly found one child less. When children lose their parents, we say that they are orphaned. What becomes of parents who lose their children?

Children grow up, and stop being kids; parents never outgrow their children.

“The laughter and the tears, we gratefully recall. What matters most is that we loved at all.”

Quite differently from the way the song was sung and gained popularity in the Philippines, “What Matters Most,” as penned by the spouses Alan and Marilyn Bergman, was a reflective song — not so much about loss, but about acceptance. Indeed, while in the beginning there is “regretful longing,” in and with time comes “grateful recollection.”

The while it takes to wean off the hollow left by a loved one’s passing is measured by the peaceful surrender to the love and memory that still remains.

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20 Good Years: Two centavos are given to the Parish Pastoral Council for Responsible Voting (PPCRV) led by Ambassador Tita de Villa, as they celebrate their 20th anniversary. In a special concelebrated mass led by outgoing Manila Cardinal Gaudencio Rosales, the PPCRV faithful were exhorted to continue the unfinished task of helping ensure clean, honest, accountable, meaningful, and peaceful (CHAMP) elections. 

With allegations of electoral fraud still hogging the news, it is quite apparent that its work is far from over.   

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“To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.” — Thomas Campbell

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