They say accidents happen. It happen on the time we least expect. Well, a number of days ago, this accident happened. I stripped and fall from 12 stairs high when i was about to report to work. My father had a project that night. Maybe out of tiredness, the last person to sleep switched the lights off in the whole house. That left me groping in the dark when I woke up. On top of that, the people from that night left objects in the stairs. As a consequence, I fell and landed on the concrete floor, with my ankle unable to move. My son rushed me to Orthopedic Hospital that night.
Vincent was the one who spoke to the information, paid the hospital bill and pulled / pushed my wheelchair as the doctor instructed him to go from one test to another. When discharged, he was almost carrying my weight because I could not walk. At 3:00 in the morning, establishment were closed. Streets were dark and you will see less people in the street. It was just myself and my son trying to find a taxi/cab to get home.
Upon reaching our house, he was the one cooking, doing the dishes, defrosting the fridge. Name it. He does it. Vincent was even mad if and when I exerted effort to move. He specifically gave me instruction to rest. From preparation of my hot compressed to removing and changing my bandages, he did without being requested twice. What makes me give it a lot of value was because my son took care of me with patience and perseverance. He is with me every step of the way. If I felt he took care of me because it was his way of showing his gratitude and respect for his mother, then perhaps it was simply meeting what is expected from him as a son. However, I felt his worry and his careful moves to make sure I would not be hurt when he removed my bandages. For me, it added up to the value. It made me realize that I really have a friend in him, my only son.
By the way, Vincent was 15 years old on the above picture. We were in the side of Our Lady of Manoaog Church then.