Fly Away... My Angel...

Two weeks ago, my friend Babelyn and I saw each other again after almost 10 years at San FAbian, Pangasinan.
We did not plan it, but the dreadful death of her 8- year- old son did.
I have learned the value of friendship more with her- It's not about having fun together all the time, but it's about being there when you needed each other the most.
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She did not expect me to come  to her place in San Fabian, Pangasinan. She did not recognize me for a second when she turned to see who her visitor was; but when she finally did, she walked towards me, I met her halfway, we hugged and we cried- she, crying the most.
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Babelyn and I were co- workers before, both field researchers of a marketing research agency for Northern Luzon. We were assigned in different provinces, and only saw each other during monthly meetings and company events. But we managed to be close friends after meeting the first time. We exchanged messages and called one another that made us much closer even if we seldom meet.
We also call each other “tseb” until now, the reverse of “best” in best friends.

She resigned first from work in 2006, she just got tired of doing field works. I came next few months later. Since then we did not see each other again, we led different lives and lived in different places far from one another. However, we did not lose our communication and we retained our friendship for a decade now- and counting.
When we knew about Facebook, it served as our link to be more updated about us.

We are both in our early thirties now, she is a year older than me. We already have our own family and sets of kids. Her husband is an OFW in Riyadh, KSA for a year now and they were blessed with two sons- Zhawn, 8, and Redrev 6.
A few times before, she invited me to come over to her place, and vice versa, but we did not get the chance to do so because of many reasons.

I remember on the baptism of her first child, I was supposed to be a godmother. Since I could not attend because I was many hours away from San Fabian and  was pregnant with my first son, she was a little upset and removed me from the list. But on my last child’s baptism, I asked her to come over to be a godmother. She and her kids were not able to come yet I did not remove her from the list.
We have different personalities but we attract.

At the back of my mind, maybe we will meet again given the right circumstances.
But neither of us had anticipated that the fateful day of January 18, 2016 would force us to see each other after ten years.
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Early this month, Babelyn posted on her social media account at around 8 in the morning that her son was suffering from flu and that she was having a hard time coping with the situation being left alone with the kids. It was just few days passed when her husband flew back to Riyadh, KSA for work after spending some time with them.
I sent her a message when I read the post at around 9 in the evening. She replied that she already sought the aid of a private doctor in their area later that day because it’s been four days that her son  was nauseated and vomiting, having stomach pains, and suffering from fever. The doctor suspected at first that it was a dengue case, but lab tests showed a negative result yet positive in urinary tract infection. Her son was instructed for home medication.

On January 13, Babelyn made another post asking for prayers because her son was comatose. I was shocked! I was like What? It was just a UTI!
I called her immediately and she told me that the child’s condition worsen and had a convulsion which was associated with his high fever, so she and some close relatives brought the child to the nearest hospital a day before he was in coma.
She said, according to the doctor attending to her son, the infection had spread to the bloodstream, also, CT- scan result showed a fist- like numb in the brain of the child creating a dent on his skull where it was located, which caused him to  be comatose.
I heard her crying on the other line so I did not get the chance to ask her what caused the numbness in the brain’s child. I sobbed silently with her, hardly believing what I just heard. Oh, my God! He was just eight years old!
I felt sad like she was. I just listened to her hoping it would lessen her burden. In the end, all I could  say was ‘Be strong and keep praying. Everything will be okay.’
I was not able to check on her the following day because my first child got ill too, and needing home treatments for some days.