An Untold Story: A Life Worth Living

Typhoon Maring

by Leonard Lim and Lance Cheng

I was just nine years old when everything changed. It was a typical Monday evening. My five year old sister and I sold around five garlands of sampaguita after being ignored by almost all the passersby. As we were counting the money that we earned after the long day of hard work, it began to drizzle. We were forced to vacate the sidewalk and stay under the shade provided by the 7-Eleven store nearby. We also bought bread and mayonnaise for breakfast the next day. Staying inside was not an option as the cashiers shooed us away, so we stayed outside. It was already midnight, and the rain was still pouring. Without a blanket, we were hugging each other for warmth. I, however, still felt that it was cold. The rain was slowly getting stronger and colder by the minute. My sister had already dozed off. I caught her muttering in her sleep, “Mama... papa... where are you?” Our parents abandoned us. I had to work hard for my sister and I to survive, and now I had to work harder because it was the rainy season. I hugged my sister tighter. Eventually, I got tired of thinking about my parents, so I used the sound of the continuous rain as a lullaby. I closed my eyes, and I fell asleep.

The next day, a shaking woke me up. As my eyes slowly opened, I saw my sister with a panic-stricken face. I felt something wet. When I stood up, the murky water already reached my feet, even though we were on a five inch-high platform. The rain was that strong. I heard my stomach grumble. I guess we were both hungry, so we thought of eating the food we had bought the day before. Much to my dismay, the food was soggy, probably contaminated by the water, and was no longer edible. We had to leave the place and go to higher land, where the water could not reach us. That was not a breeze, unfortunately. We were starving and at the same time soaked by the reeking flood. As we were walking around, searching for a safer place, we observed what the strong rainfall has done to the surroundings. Unexpectedly, it began to rain again. Try visualizing a large land area, blanketed with a rising swamp in the color of brownish-green, carrying different viruses, revolting creatures, debris from fallen buildings and rubbish from fetid piles of garbage, along with continuous downpour and roaring skies, taking everything away but hope. 

After a few days of scavenging for food, brilliant rays of light started to fill the atmosphere, replacing the gloomy and dreary sky. Hope was indeed present. However, the flood had not subsided. I thought about my life and what my sister and I had done so far. Not much actually, I wonder if anyone would remember us? That thought quickly faded as soon as I heard someone yell nearby. Help! Ate! Grulurglrlr! Before I could even turn around to look, my sister had slipped into a canal. 

It would have been easy to escape, but the flood had made this canal into a sinister and hidden trap. Panicking, I screamed for aid, wasting breaths I could have used to save my sister. As if the world was making a sick joke, it began raining hard the moment I shouted. I dived down to try and untangle her legs from the canal hole. 

 Bad idea. 

The water was dark brown and extremely turbid. And now I'm half blind, I thought to myself. At the corner of my eye, I saw a small boy about our age respond to our pleas. He grabbed a small stick and tried to get us to hold it. I cringed, thinking to the universe. Is this the best you can do? I gazed around and saw many people rushing to their houses, looking back at us for a second, before ultimately deciding to save themselves. I was surrounded by a wall of eyes that watched us perish in the cruel flood. The boy ran back and I thought that he too was abandoning us, but he then proceeded to return with a bigger and more stable piece of wood. I was able to grab onto the tip of the stick, while the currents were starting to push me. I held my sister’s hand tightly as she clung onto mine and tried to pull us out, but the current was pushing us back and her legs were still stuck. I was so close to the ledge where the boy was standing, but it seemed like the whole world was against us. I could not give up.

With renewed determination, I held my sister’s hand firmly and desperately tried to pull her out once again. One hand on the boy’s stick and another on my sister’s hand. I suddenly felt that I was moving closer to the elevated platform inch by inch. Her feet were slowly finding their way out of the canal. But the world was unforgiving. Another wave of filthy water crashed down upon us, and my sister fell back into the canal, now even deeper. I did not release her hand though and neither did the boy release mine. 

And with that, the stick snapped.

The boy quickly thrust out his hand and wrapped it around my arm. But this time, I knew it was over. Only two of us could survive, the boy and I, and my sister would drown. The same question flashed into my mind when this moment arrived. Would anyone remember me? I looked at the tear-streaked face of my sister, who was smiling a sorrowful smile, a smile of someone who just wished for her sorry excuse of a life, agony rather, to just end. I looked at the boy, who was crying because he did not want us to die, two strangers he did not even know up until now. These two people found a place in the deepest core of my heart. And for some reason, I loved the boy almost as much as I loved my sister. Almost, but I still could not leave my sister, as my duty was to her. The boy still had more chances and opportunities, while my sister needed me. 

Will anyone remember me?

Turning towards the boy, I smiled, a smile full of pride, deep love, and hope. 

Remember us.

Make life worth living.

Help others make the most out of theirs.

Good bye. My sister needs me.

Finally happy for the first time in my life,

I let go.

I let go of the pain and resent I had for my parents.

I let go of the suffering I have endured.

I let go of the life, that because of the boy, I knew could have been more worth living.

I let go...