broken barriers

three.

When I made it to UST, the glowing lights inside the royal and pontifical institution were lit up in bright yellow. At the distance, I saw the school’s hospital.

As the driver dropped me by in front of the hospital, I paid him, grabbed my luggage bag at the back of the vehicle, and closed the trunk immediately. The taxi went away and left me.

I entered the hospital and the feeling was heavy that I cannot help myself to see her like that. I cannot help myself to see her in pain. I cannot help myself to see her, suffering.

I approached the nurse in their quarters and asked for her room, “May I know where Mildred Gutierrez’s room is?” The nurse said, “Room 206, sir.” I thanked her.

I took the elevator to the second floor and searched for her room. At the left end of the floor, I saw the numbers. 206. And a name that I was familiar with was being inserted in a glass in order to see which patient was occupying the room. Mildred Gutierrez, it read.

I knocked first just in case there was someone else inside. And as the door was opened, I saw Mildred’s father, exhausted and sleepless. His eyes seem to be swollen from crying. As he allowed me to enter the room, there I saw her.

She looked like the same photo as to what his father sent to me earlier. My teary eyes cannot contain the pain that I have seen and so, it had fallen like miniature waterfalls for the eyes of a soon-to-be-priest.

“Mr. Gutierrez–“

"Call me Tito Lucio, instead.”

I stuttered, “Uh, Tito Lucio, you should go get some rest. I’ll take care of her for the meantime.” I insisted so he could get a good rest.

“Okay, iho. If there’s any problem, kindly contact me.” We exchanged our contact information in case there has been any update while he’s not around. I embraced him before he left. He took a last look on Mildred.

As Tito Lucio went out of the room, I cried my pain loudly so that I would feel better. But still, as I am here before her, I can still feel the pain that she has been experiencing. A pain that she does not deserve.

I was scanning the whole room and then I saw an acoustic guitar at the corner of her bed. It was labeled with L.G., which stands as the initials of her father. I borrowed it and played her favorite song of all time.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are gray,

You never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

I cried again, but this time, I decided to become brave enough for her.

In front of her, I decided to pray.

Lord God, please heal my one and only love of my life. Please give her the strength that she needs in order to fight with this battle. She is my life, and she gives me hope, o Lord. I will always be right by her side in the ups and downs of her life. I will not leave her, for I yearn for her with every single bit of my life. If it really is her time, grant me the acceptance that I will be needing for the rest of my life as she will always be the best part in me. Amen.

It was 1 in the morning already when I checked my phone. After I prayed, I felt something that gave me goosebumps. Her fingertips touched my palm, tapping it twice. And when I looked at her face, infused with the oxygen tank beside her hospital bed, her eyes were opening wide, looking like the baby’s first day in the Christian world. But this one, this woman is the greatest love of mine. I can already see her hazelnut eyes looking right at me.

“M-Mildred?” I said as I was about to cry once more.

The soft voice that I have heard talked to me again, “Mario.” It was so gentle that it was breaking my heart into pieces.

“You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” I told her with assurance. I contacted Tito Lucio immediately so he will be informed. And I went to the nurses’ quarters to let them know as well.