Love and Death

This story took place in the year 2000, when I was still an Employee Relations Supervisor with a known semiconductor manufacturing and test facility in Sta. Rosa, Laguna.

We had a machine operator in her early 20's. Coming from a poor family, her father worked himself day and night driving a tricycle just to make sure she was able to complete her vocational studies. While working, the "Girl" continued to pursue her dreams of becoming a technician - something that would augment her salary quite substantially, thus allowing her to help out in the financial needs of the family.

To make a long story short: the Girl took the exams for would be technicians - and passed! But the victory was short-lived.

The Girl was soon diagnosed with terminal cancer, and she spent the rest of her days in and out hospitals. Our HMO coverage allowed her to avail of good services, but still there was no denying the fact that she was soon leaving this earth.

On her last day, I went to the hospital for DW: death watch - one of the duties I performed as needed. I arrived at her room at around 9:00AM, and sat with the Girls' parents. I talked with one relative to another, comforting them and ensuring them that things were alright. I spoke to the doctors and nurses when there were concerns.

At around noon, the doctors came in looking for the Girls' parents. They stood up, and I stood up with them. We went into an adjacent room. There the doctor told them that there was nothing more they could do. And that they needed a decision.

I took the folder the doctor had and sat down with the Girls' parents. I explained to them that they needed to decide what to do in case the Girl stopped breathing. In Tagalog, I explained "This is the DNR Form - Do Not Resucitate. If you sign this, it means that if she stops breathing, you are saying that you will let her go peacefully. If not, the doctors will try to revive her. But if they do, they cannot ensure that she will live longer".

"What do I do?" the Girls' mother asked me in Tagalog, "What should I do?"

I took a deep breath - and told her this: "Sign it. Your daughter deserves to rest. She has provided for you while she was alive, and she will look over you when she is in heaven." I knew that I was virtually asking her to sign her daughters' death certificate.

She smiled faintly, and then signed the DNR.

The Girl looked far different from the young lady from the manufacturing line. She was deathly thin, save for her stomach that bulged as if she were five months pregnant. She was on a respirator, and her eyes were half shut, half open, but unmoving and non-responsive. You could hardly make out her breathing.

At around 1:00PM, a young man entered the room and approached the family. The Girls' mother hugged him and they both cried. Siblings greeted him and aunts told him to approach the Girl, which he did very slowly. He was the Girl's boyfriend, and he seemed genuinely in love with her AND with her family - and the family loved him back.

I was seated less than five feet from the bedside, and I could see everything that went on with the Girl.

The young man reached for the Girls' hand. And then he bent over to kiss the Girl on her forehead. And then he whispered in the Girls' ear.

Suddenly, for the first time since 9:00AM, there was movement. The Girls' hand clasped the young mans' hand. And the Girls' eyes -- those eyes that were half-shut and half-open but unmoving and non-responsive -- they suddenly shut fully closed. And her breathing, faint as it already was, came to a stop.

I watched her heart rate drop until it flat lined. All you could hear was the beep of the machine and the soft crying of the family.

Everyone left the room one by one. I had our driver bring the family home, and I assured them that I would take care of everything. An aunt and a sister stayed with me to watch the preparation of the body.

What I had witnessed was a triumph of Love over Death.

There was no reason for her to last that long that day. But she did. I believe that it was only when she heard the voice of the one she loved did she feel that everything was complete - and that she could pass on peacefully.

Her parents were there.

Her siblings were there.

Her friends and office mates.

And the one she loved the most was there too.

She was complete.

Love kept her alive up till the last moment when love spoke in her ear, giving her the assurance that all was well, and that -- up to her dying moments -- she was loved well.