“No Visitors Allowed,” the hospital room sign read. The wife pressed me gently forward. So,we tiptoed in.
Hooked to tubes, the gaunt man, on the bed, was a friend of many years. His kindnesses to me were many. After anointing, the priest gave him “Viaticum” — Latin for the “way with you.” My friend would not cross the passageway alone. Hindi siya mag-iisa.
“I’m fighting,” he gasped. He was one never to wallow in self pity. A tear trickled down as he gripped my hand. “Good of you to come.” At a loss for words, I squeezed his hand. Goodbye can be said in many ways.
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