.graduation thoughts.

Yesterday, we had the UPCM Class 2009 Graduation and Internship Closing Ceremonies at the UP Theater in UP Diliman. It was the culmination of five years (and just a year for some) of braving a grueling medical education together. As a class, what we were all working for was finally conferred upon us... the degree of Doctor of Medicine. It was the end of an era.

No offense to the people who worked hard in making this ceremony as seamless as possible (because it was definitely one of the better graduation rites I have seen), but yesterday was, for me, to say the least, anticlimactic.

I don't know why that was. During my high school graduation, I was bawling my eyes out at the end of the program and was hugging everyone in sight. The thought that I would probably not see my classmates again was a painful truth that was hovering in the air. The future looked scary and I felt alone facing it without the friends I had made in the past four years.

But yesterday, all I could feel was... nothing.

Now don't get me wrong. I met some of the best people and the truest friends a person could ever have in med school. They were not the most popular people in class (and neither was I, BTW); on the contrary, we were more often than not MIA during class activities. But these were the people I knew I could always count on no matter what, people who always had my back, people I was willing to do anything for. I will never trade them for anyone else. They were my friends and colleagues, and I love them to pieces, and I will definitely miss them. I'll miss hanging out with them in that easy and comfortable manner, exchanging witty quips and smart-alecky comments with them, ranting endlessly together about duties and workload and classmates and what-have-yous, discussing serious life issues and apprehensions about the future, and just being with them.

It wasn't that.

Maybe I would have felt differently if I graduated from med school with a bang. I mean, I can just imagine how high my outstanding classmates must have felt as they repeatedly climbed up the stage to receive their awards. I know, I know, this sounds like the bitter ramblings of an ordinary, average student, but it's really not. I am happy for my classmates, and I know that all the awards were more than well-deserved (Hi Dear! Congrats again!).

It wasn't that.

I really, really do not know what it was. I've hyped up my graduation so much to my family and friends, because I want them to feel just how much I appreciate them for simply being in my life during these times. I want to make sure my parents know how extremely grateful I am to them for pulling out all stops just to get me through med school.

Maybe it is because, after seven years, I still feel like I have not accomplished anything great. I am not talking about graduating with honors or something like that, because I never even dreamed of that from the start. It just feels like I didn't do anything special. I don't know if this will come off sounding egotistical, but it's quite humbling to think that I passed through the UP College of Medicine and no one even noticed. Was it all just a waste of time? I was listening to our Class Valedictorian, and though he did give us a good speech, I couldn't help thinking that he left a lot of significant things unsaid, and had I been given the opportunity, I would have said them. But I was, sadly, not in any position to do so. Because who am I to speak anyway? I never did anything extraordinary for the class. Even after seven years, I was still just one of the many nameless faces in the crowd.

Maybe because, deep down inside us, we all crave recognition. It does not exactly have to be in the same form with everyone, but admit it, we all desire it. We all want to our most heroic efforts to be noticed, no matter how much we deny it. We get disappointed when we pour out our hearts and souls into something, and no one even bothers to care. We feel hurt, cheated, and betrayed. We feel deprived of what is due us.

Looking back on the past few years of my life, I start to ask myself, "Was it all worth it?" All those sleepless nights, all the holidays I missed spending with my loved ones, all the energy poured into trying to help save the lives of people I barely know... do they even count for something? Did I gain anything in the process?

The answer, just now, is coming right at me. Yes, we do crave recognition. But the real question is, are we looking for it in the right places?

I realize now that my frustration stems from the fact that I tried too hard to gain that recognition from the people around me. I was never late for school or for duty, I did all my tasks to the best of my ability, I took care of my patients as well as I possibly could - and I got burnt out because no one cared enough to tell me how good a job I was doing. I felt like it was all for nothing.

Real recognition, however, comes from the inside. It is the security in knowing that all your efforts, whether people recognize them or not, are never in vain. It is the peace that comes with knowing that Someone so much greater than the most distinguished award-giving body in the world is pleased with you, is smiling upon you every single time, and loves you so much that He has given everything He has for you. It is the calmness in knowing that no one can ever nullify or revoke all the good seeds that you have been sowing, and that no one can hold back from you the abundant harvest that is sure to come. It is the serenity that comes with seeing change appear right before your eyes in the lives of the people you know you have somehow touched even in small ways, knowing that God has enabled you to do something special for them.

My good works may not have been enough to earn me a plaque of recognition from my College. I may have fallen short of their standards a lot of times, and I know a lot of other people are better than me in many aspects. I probably will not be voted "Favorite Classmate" anytime soon, and I am assuming that no one will erect a monument in my name.

But I don't care anymore. Let them have their share of fame and glory. Let them fight each other's heads off as they battle their way to the top.

I was trained to be so much more than that.

My God has recognized me, even before I was born. He knows me, He loves me, and He tells me that He is always pleased and happy with me. He has prepared the way for me, and is lovingly cheering me on every step of the way.

God's recognition is all I need to keep me going... and I know I already have it! That's the beauty of it. I am looking forward to hearing Him say to me, "Well done, my daughter, well done." Jesus is my more-than-enough Reward.

With my God, there is no way but up. Real promotion, after all, comes from Him alone.

BRING IT ON!!! Wooo-hoooo!


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I love you Dr. Paolo Victor Nartea Medina. Here's to the seven years of amazing friendship that we've shared, and to the countless years more! ;)

.for papa.

This morning, I was fixing my room to give it some semblance of a decent study room in preparation for the intense hours of burning the midnight oil I have planned over the next few months. I was clearing my table and laying down books I planned to go over first when I realized that I did not have a good enough light to read under.

"Pa, may lampshade ba tayo? Medyo madilim kasi sa kwarto ko e."

I knew we didn't, and I was half wishing my dad would go and volunteer to buy me one. But he didn't.

Without wasting a single second, he made me one.

Using everyday materials we had lying around the house, Papa provided an extra light above my table. Now, I can read clearly, and we didn't have to spend a single cent. And my dad was still smiling after what I put him through.

When I was younger, I remember telling my mom that for the life of me, I could not imagine Papa courting her. With his strict and sometimes short temper, I simply could not picture him all sweet and tender towards my mom during the early days of their relationship. There were times during my teenage years when I resented him for imposing all kinds of rules on me and my Ate. I figured he just didn't want me to have fun. I kept him at an arm's length when it came to my personal life, and I never, NEVER, came to him when I was having boy troubles. He was just not THAT kind of a father.

Besides, we were so much alike. Papa and I both have the tendency to shut up and remain quiet when we get angry or frustrated. We both have trouble expressing our emotions, so we basically don't have a lot to talk about when it comes to personal matters.

Now that I am a little older, I am little by little beginning to see just what it was about Papa that made Mama fall so deeply in love with him.

One call is all it takes to have Papa come running to pick me up wherever I am. In all of my 23 years, I cannot remember even a single time when Papa gave me some lame excuse for why he couldn't. Wherever I am (and mind you, I've had Papa pick me up from pretty far places), whatever I am doing, I am always secure that Papa will be there to come for me in the event that I couldn't make it home by myself.

When I insist that I go home alone, I know I can expect Papa to still be waiting to open the door for me. Sure, he may be grouchy and mad when I stay out a little later than the agreed upon time, but he has never been one to hold grudges. And I never have the fear of being locked out. He always lets me in.

Even when he was working, I knew I could always count on my dad to provide whatever I needed. As a kid, I thought he was a magician. Anything I asked for would be ready and waiting for me the next morning. Special paper for an art project? You got it. Food for my field trip? All packed and ready to go. Unusual pet for the pet show at school? A turtle was waiting for me the next day. I didn't know how he pulled it off, but I didn't care. He could do just about anything. Balancing work and family life was never an issue for my parents.

And he never once complained.

As I got older, I knew there were times when I failed to show my dad just how much I appreciated him. I knew I hurt him more than once, but he never rubbed that in my face, even though he easily could. He just continued to give and give and give.

I watch him and I see sincerity and genuineness that extend even to people outside of our family.

Papa, in more ways than one, is the ideal boyfriend. He is never late for anything, shows up for all the important and even the not-so-important events of our lives, and always keeps his word. When Papa says he'll do something, you can bet your life on it that he'll get it done. He has braved all kinds of storms and what-have-yous just to be there for us. He never fails to get us whatever we ask for (as long as it is in his financial and physical capacity to do so), and sometimes even the things we don't ask for. He makes us laugh even in awkward moments, and surprises us with witty and light-hearted remarks even in the most trying of times. And every once in a while, he surprises us with some touching gesture for no reason at all.

Papa always puts us first. He gives his all just to ensure our happiness and comfort, and NEVER asks for anything in return. His utter selflessness makes him a hero in my eyes. Without saying a word, Papa has shown me what kind of a Father we have in heaven just by being like Him everyday.

I can just imagine him at 21, courting Mama. Being there for her at all costs. Investing much time and effort just to be with her (Papa is from Pampanga and Mama is from Pagsanjan...think about that). Making her family love him just as much (but maybe not in the same way) by considering them in his decisions, too. Maybe he didn't always know the right words to say, but I know he loved her in the best way he knew how - by giving of himself.

I know why Mama fell in love with him. And I'm glad she did. Because they went on to have me and my sister.

And with them as my parents, I just couldn't ask for anything more.

I'm proud of you Pa. I love you.