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The kids from House of Hope in the Southern Philippine Medical Center will always have a place in my heart. I’ll always feel the need to help them and I will always be here, ready to feel bittersweet all over again.

The last time I visited HoH was last June. I was with family friends as they celebrated a birthday. They heard about my stories about the kids and wanted to help them as well. When they tasked me to plan it, I was excited and scared. I had made a friend in a patient there and as it was a long time since I went back, I was afraid that she wouldn’t be there anymore. In the middle of our visit, I got my answer. She passed. She had passed two months after my first visit. Two months after she begged me to stay and hang out with her. I felt gutted when I heard the news… talking about it today still gives me pangs of sadness.

Here’s a reflection I wrote after visiting them in September 2014:

Little Lalay

If I were to describe my experience during the whole outreach program at House of Hope, I’d describe it as bittersweet. Bittersweet because the whole experience made me feel a mix of joy and pain. I’ve always wanted to try to visit House of Hope because of all the stories I’ve heard from people. I’ve always had this inclination and curiosity about cancer and I wanted that curiosity sated. Books and movies have always shown me how unbelievably tragic it all is and I found that intriguing. This experience made me realize that it’s not all about how tragic it all is. It’s about how underestimatedly beautiful it all is.

I first visited House of Hope approximately a month before the outreach. It was then that  I met Karelle, or Lalay, as she was fondly called by her watchers. I found her charming. She talked and acted matured for her age but when I brought out a “magic” pencil, I could see the fascination in her eyes and realized that although she talked like someone experienced with life, her innocence still showed. She was boasting of her drawing skills, you see, and her lead pencil kept breaking so she kept running back to the kitchen to sharpen it. On her third try, I could see her frustration so I decided to give her my magic pencil. When I showed her how it worked, she gave me a wide smile and said “WOW!”. It made my heart cringe a little. Here I was holding a pencil case full of fancy ballpoint pens and magic pencils and here was a little girl absolutely elated by my magic pencil. She was so grateful when I gave it to her, too. It amazed me how happy that made her. I mean, it was just a pencil, right? But then I realized how blessed I truly was. I have so much stuff that I usually take for granted while these kids had nothing. Our first visit to HOH was great. I earned a friend and to be honest, I was a wee bit nervous about the possibility of coming back and not finding her there.

When the official event started on September 28, I was pretty busy because I was organizing everything. I forgot to look for my friend, Lalay. I checked their mini blackboard, though, to find her name. It was still there; still on number 1. I smiled and tried to make a mental note to look for her when I got free time. The program began when Batman and Superman came out of the kitchen and started introducing the event. I sat down and tried to look around, searching for other kids who didn’t get a nametag. Then a fellow Clarionet, Kim, told me that our friend wouldn’t come out of her room. I followed her inside to find Lalay lying in her bed, hiding from all the commotion outside. I asked her to come out and have fun with us and she wouldn’t. I tried to tell her that it was what we promised the last time we visited. She wouldn’t budge. She kept declining, but she was still smiling. She didn’t want to play games daw. So I told her she wouldn’t have to if she stuck with me. You know what she did? She held my hands and put it between her knees, making me stuck. “diri lang ka.”, she told me. I laughed and pulled my hands out and tickled her when someone called me because I was needed outside. I told her one more time to come out and she still wouldn’t budge. So I went and did my organizing duties. I got her some orange juice and went back to her room to try and coax her to go outside again but it still didn’t work. I still had to distribute food for the others so I left her to the care of Kim and Zhaira.

While I was distributing the food, however, I didn’t notice the little person taking photos of me. It was Lalay with Zhaira’s camera. She looked so happy and when I praised her for her skill in taking photos she simply replied, “Syempre! Ako na gud na!” I couldn’t help but think about how amazingly confident she was. She then sat on her chair and took photos when necessary.

Why am I recounting all these details on a reflection paper? Why am I focusing on Lalay? Because Lalay was the one who got to me. She was the one who made me realize how hard it is for her but at the same time she showed bravery. She was six years old yet she acted like she knew things beyond her age. When she smiled there was still a twinge of sadness in her eyes that made me want to rethink all those times I mock-despised my life. I am a youth of the generation that constantly whines about how life sucks. I admit to being self-centered but here was Little Lalay who managed her illness well. One thing that haunts me up till now was how she yelled “Pabilin na lang ka diri teh!!!” when we were walking from the house. I still hear her voice when I think about it. 

I wanted to stay there with her. I wanted to hug her tight and promise her that everything would be fine but I can’t. There are some things in this world that we have no control over and one of those things is how and when we’ll leave this earth. It just sucks how fast and short their lives would be. They were ticking time bombs and it amazes me how well they hold themselves, especially Lalay. That one day made me realize why they were called the Kids of Hope.

Lalay was just one of the many patients in SPMC’s House of Hope. Whenever you asked to set up an event, they always emphasize that their goal is to make the kids a little happier and ease their pain. When I first organized an event there, I expected depressed little kids but what met me was the exact opposite. They were happy and lively. Smiles were plastered across their faces; almost hiding the fact that they had recent operations.These kids taught me how to look at the bright side. They taught me that there’s always the choice of being happy, hopeful and positive even in the most dire circumstance. Lalay taught me how refreshingly human it is to allow yourself to feel their pain and yet not feel the sadness that comes with it. They taught me that having it worse doesn’t necessarily mean being at your worst. It only means that your decision of choosing to be happy is just a little more challenging.