There Are Men, Then There is Art

Bumped into him by the buffet breakfast, this colleague of mine I felt instant affinity to the first time I met him. I asked him how his wife was, as I know she is battling an illness. His posts on facebook I surmise shows only the times when smiles can be given, those moments that need to be captured if only to 'freeze' that instance, and be kept in our hearts. His reply pushed a bit of tears around my eyes, he said: 'She is still beautiful.' 

I have not met her, his wife, but I have seen her photos, in a bandana. That made me conclude that therapy for her illness has been cruel, her hair had fallen out. But I look into her eyes in the photos, and while weariness can be seen in them, her eyes really does the smiling for her, not her lips. I saw gratitude somewhere in there, too, a feeling that others who are afflicted with a grave illness would not normally feel. 

I am jealous of her, her strength and her fortitude. I envy the fact that she, together with her husband, recently welcomed yet another miracle of an 'apo'. There they were in a photo, husband and wife, holding a newborn, the baby's presence as if God needed to remind them that in times when things seem to be desperate, there is hope. I am most of all in awe of the bond there is between this husband and wife, something that I do not have. We really cannot have it all, that was reinforced in his posts. 

One time, I was telling my life story to this colleague of mine, found that it was effortless to trust him as he understood. And this conversation we did over text messages, which made it more extraordinary. He told me, whatever it was I was going through, it did not at all match what he had to go through himself. I could imagine him smiling at me through all the exchange of the messages.

There are men, plenty of them out there who dress straight out of  a GQ magazine cover, smelling of expensive perfume invading all of women's senses, speak in conio English, think of themselves as God's gift to women. And then there is Art: a simple, brilliant, decent young man, one who keeps to himself and chooses to be quiet in meetings and conferences and  speaks only when he feels he needs to be heard. A father who ushered his children through the best schools holding diplomas for the best courses. I am certain the blood running through the veins of his children are not only from him but from his beautiful wife. A husband who describes his wife 'still beautiful', despite the trying times. I am called 'pretty', 'gorgeous', 'beautiful' so often I have lost the meaning of all those descriptions along the way. I wish that some day soon, I will be described as 'beautiful', the way Art described his wife. It is in that spirit that any woman would love to be described as such. 

I wish you and your wife God's grace, everyday, Art.