Part 1- THE SOLDIER, THE NURSE, AND THE SKYLINE PIGEON
November 2011
He had only one eye. And he was my real big crush as a 19-year-old student nurse in a military hospital in the Philippines.
It was our group’s clinical orientation at the Plastic Surgery ward. The patients in that unit usually stayed longer than those in the acute surgical units as they awaited reconstructive surgeries and rehabilitation treatments.The horrors of war with the insurgents in the Southern Philippines left soldiers with varying degrees of disfigurement, lost limbs, and faces marked by the weapons of war. They had barely survived their physical injuries, but their emotional scars ran deeper. Most of the soldiers were young recruits who had been ill-prepared for warfare. Their lives were forever changed.
The clinical instructor warned us that the patients eagerly anticipated the new batch of student nurses assigned to the unit, each one ready to move on to new crushes. In other words, the new group of nurses was “fresh meat” who brought much-needed excitement and distraction to the soldiers' otherwise boring, mundane existence.
Our tasks included dressing changes and wound and stump care. Our most important mission was to provide cheer and hope in a unit full of men depressed by inactivity and uncertainty. The student nurses were the “happy pills.” We were the bright points during the patients’ stay in the hospital.
Mr. Bernabe cautioned us against being too friendly with the patients and said we should take their fawning praise with a grain of salt. Any nurse caught accepting the soldiers' advances would be suspended. And so, on our first day at the unit, we armed ourselves with our professional smiles and our firm but polite “Sorry, I can’t go out with you. I have a boyfriend already.”
My first assignment in the Treatment Room started auspiciously as the grouchy regular nurse whined about the endless tasks that she had to do. Mr. Bernabe placated Lt. Morales by assuring her that “Miss Cerrudo will take over the dressings today. So don’t worry. I will be supervising her.”
Not surprisingly, my first three patients peppered me with personal questions about my “boyfriend.” Just as I was ready to call for the next patient, I heard someone ask my instructor, who was at the door, to get the regular nurse instead. He was a little sullen and did not want a student nurse tending to his eye. My ears burned as he questioned my instructor about my skills. Bless his heart, Mr. Bernabe vouched for my academic knowledge and technical prowess.
At that moment, another nurse summoned our instructor to another treatment area. Despite my earlier resolve, I was fuming mad and intended to give the rude patient a piece of my mind about his pissy attitude. I was tired and didn't appreciate how ungrateful that unknown patient was.
I remember feeling a jolt of awareness when the patient came into the treatment room. He appeared awkward and uncomfortable. As I stood there in silence, he softly muttered, “I’m sorry.”
Psychology 101 made me realize his gruffness came from his sense of vulnerability. It must have been difficult for the man to be looked at, not with interest but with something akin to pity. Suddenly, I felt ashamed for not understanding, so I nodded my acceptance of his apology and gave him a welcoming smile.
“Sammy” was a soldier whose left eye was enucleated from an injury on the battlefield in Cotabato. My assignment was to change the dressings on his empty left eye socket.
As we locked eyes, a shy smile broke into his dark, handsome face. His beautiful brown right eye was fringed with the longest lashes I’ve seen on a man. His strong jaw, aquiline nose, and full lips gave him a rakish but totally masculine look.
He sat dutifully on the chair as I stood over him and gingerly unwrapped the dressing over his left eye. Pain and embarrassment crossed Sammy’s face as he sat exposed, his left eye socket hollow.
As I ministered to him, he observed me closely, searching my face for any sign of revulsion. But all I felt was a deep respect for the soldier and the man. Like all the other soldiers in the unit, Sammy had sacrificed his future in service of the country.
A warm feeling suffused me as I watched him watching me. My cheeks felt warm and my heart palpitated. I was perplexed that I felt both relief and sadness when I finished the job. Sammy thanked me quietly. We both smiled at each other.
As we settled into the unit's routine, our instructor allowed the nurses to engage the patients in free-wheeling but good-natured group discussions. The unit seemed more alive. Because the patients were forewarned that they would lose privileges if they disrespected the nurses, they were all on their best behavior.
My interactions with Sammy were limited to the dressing changes and the vital signs-taking. We were aware of each other. It was an exhilarating feeling for a 19-year-old girl. Distracted by his proximity, I almost shot the mercury from the sphygmomanometer.
He always managed to stay back in line for the daily dressing changes. As my last patient, he lingered a few more minutes in the treatment room, and he began to open up about waiting for his prosthetic eye. Like the other soldiers, he wasn't bitter about his injuries, and he remained committed to serving in the military. Sammy confided his dream of finishing his engineering studies. He also made sure I saw his good side during our conversations.
In one treatment session, Sammy caught me humming the song “Skyline Pigeon” by Elton John. We shared a laugh as he corrected me when I mistakenly called it “Turn Me Loose.” It was a sweet moment. It was also the first time that I felt sad that our time together would soon end.
On the last day of our month-long clinical rotation, the patients gave us a surprise party. For a month, we distracted them from their mundane worries, made them laugh, and gave them hope. They appreciated the excitement we brought to the unit.
Sporting a black patch over his left eye, just like a handsome pirate, Sammy brought out his guitar and sang “our song.”
Turn me loose from your hands
Let me fly to distant lands
Over green fields, trees and mountains
Flowers and forest fountains
Home along the lanes of the skyway
The song is about a man’s yearning for his freedom, of flying toward his dreams. But I was the one flying away. As a young nurse, I was on the verge of a future in the United States. I wanted more, not only for myself but also for my family. Somehow, Sammy understood.
Sammy’s voice soared earnestly. “Skyline Pigeon” is not a love song, but it felt like one to me. I felt a lump in my throat. We’ve never talked about our feelings, but the song told me that he was letting me go. Then he winked at me.
Saying goodbye was difficult. Maybe his friends made it happen, but we found ourselves alone in the treatment room. He confessed he was falling for me, but he didn't want to hold me back. I had told him before that I was planning to go to the States. It was not the right time for any romance.
That was more than 25 years ago. And today is Veterans’ Day. Maybe that’s why I remember him now, the soldier who sang an Elton John song to me.
Coincidentally or not, actor Sam Milby appeared on my TV screen. The aquiline nose, the strong jaw, the full lips, and the incredibly beautiful eyes fascinated me.
The resemblance to Sammy was so uncanny. I hurriedly paused the videotape I was watching. Crouching in front of the TV, I put my hand over Sam’s left eye and imagined the soldier Sammy with his eye patch, and it felt like I was transported back in time to that military hospital.
I wonder where he is now, Sammy, and his Skyline Pigeon.
Part 2- THE SOLDIER, THE NURSE, "KUMUSTA KA?"
April 2012
"It's more fun in the Philippines," the tourism banner proclaimed. As I walked through the Ninoy Aquino airport, I wondered what my two-week vacation would bring.
I have gone back to the Philippines for short vacations over the years. Of course, vacations always excited me, but this time, I was coming back for several reunions. The grand family reunion, the college and high school reunions. It felt like going back in time to recapture old memories with family and friends.
The past came back full force, with all its memories. We'd led separate lives and gone down different paths, but we were ready to reminisce about our younger years. Frankly, I was apprehensive about who I would be seeing after all these years.
And through my college friend Althea, who's now the Chief Nurse in the military hospital where I was once a student, I have also been slated to speak at an Emergency Preparedness symposium. Just a few months ago, I reconnected with Althea through Facebook. The miracle of social media. Reach out and touch someone.
Coming back to the hospital where I first met Sammy, my one-eyed soldier. The one who sang "The Skyline Pigeon" to me when I was a 19-year-old student nurse, twenty-five years ago.
On a cold November day in New York, six months ago, nostalgia crept in as I watched a Sam Milby film on TV. The Filipino actor's uncanny resemblance to Sammy made me catch my breath, and my heart fluttered, as it did when I cared for Sammy in the Plastic Surgery ward.
Was it because it was Veterans Day that I started to reminisce about my Sam Milby look-alike soldier?
Sammy's left eye was enucleated from injuries sustained on the battlefield in the Southern Philippines. But despite the injury, I felt drawn to this handsome young soldier, his good right eye as beautiful as possible, even made more special because he lost his left eye in service of his country.
Although nothing untoward happened during my clinical rotation at the Plastic Surgery unit, there was an apparent awareness of each other, an attraction that never had a chance to prosper. I was a nursing student, and he was a patient. Our worlds were not supposed to come together.
Just before my month-long clinical rotation was finished, Sammy confided his feelings for me, but he conceded that I needed to follow my American dream. As much as I was enamored with him, I realized I had to leave.
Because I wanted to explore the world and because I wanted more for myself and my family, I said goodbye. Just like the skyline pigeon in the song that he sang to me. And so, a few years after graduation, this skyline pigeon flew away to distant lands. I have never heard from him again.
And now, I'm back at the same military hospital. It was ironic that Althea now worked there. Two days ago, we sat together at our college reunion and talked about my presentation. I attributed her exuberance to the upcoming hospital event she had organized.
I have been teaching emergency preparedness to my nurses in my hospital in New York. My audience today will be a combined group of nurses and doctors. I will share knowledge gained from years of disaster management classes and hands-on experience volunteering with the Medical Reserve Corps and a few disaster relief groups in Haiti.
The hospital had a facelift. Now, another impressive building stood on the right side of the big compound. A full-service hospital with 1,000 beds to serve injured soldiers; it was now modern and fully equipped, so different from the quaint hospital I knew 25 years ago.
I smiled at a group of student nurses passing by. They looked immaculate in their nurses' uniform and starched apron, white nursing caps, and dazzling white shoes. I heard them chattering about their new assignment and their cute clinical instructor.
I remembered my student days: carefree days of new discoveries, new experiences, and budding love. With our stiff aprons, blue-and-white sheer sucker uniforms, and white nurses' caps, we breezed through the years with carefree equanimity and optimism, fully aware that real nursing life would be very different.
Then, an image of Sammy as he surprised our group with a song at our going-away party brought a sensation of regret for that interrupted romance. He had a beautiful baritone voice, haunting in its earnest sincerity. I guarded the secret of my feelings for him and only wrote about our story in a blog, many years later.
I met Althea in the hospital lobby. She looked different from the happy-go-lucky student nurse I knew. Tall and slim, she looked authoritative in her military uniform. I forgot she was now a Lieutenant Colonel; all the servicemen bowed in deference as she passed, and they eyed me, a stranger, in my power suit and high heels.
I caught my image in a mirror. Not bad for a 45-year-old, but too old for these servicemen. With my short hair, brown highlights, and trim body (thanks to the Zumba classes), I looked years younger, modesty aside.
But I didn't come here looking to flirt with anyone; I had been divorced for ten years, and the memory of the heartache was enough to turn me wary of romance. My son was still in 2nd year of college, majoring in Biology, my future doctor. He couldn't come for vacation because of school.
Althea and I walked down the long corridor leading to the Administrative Offices when her cell phone rang. She excused herself and moved a few feet away to accept the call. I passed the time by looking at the massive murals of Philippine landscapes that adorned the hospital walls.
"Hi, Jo." I knew the voice, but I didn't turn around right away. I was sure I had just imagined it; that I was so caught up in the emotions of my return to the hospital that I would conjure up the voice that had filled my dreams in the past.
He cleared his throat, and I turned around to face Sammy. After all these years.
If this were a movie, it would have been in slow motion. I looked up at his face as he towered over me. And I whispered his name in recognition, "Sammy."
His expectant face lit up, as if he'd been holding his breath and didn't want to assume I would recognize him. He gave me a most beautiful smile. Breathtaking.
The years had been good to him. He looked as handsome as I remembered him. He still wore an eye patch over his left eye, but his beautiful, long-lashed brown right eye twinkled with amusement at my startled gasp. What was it with that pirate look, I thought. It gave him a dangerous, exciting look.
Sammy stood tall and distinguished-looking in his military uniform. A full-fledged colonel. We both said the words, "Kumusta ka?" We just stood there, looking at each other. All those years apart, all we could say was "Kumusta ka? (How are you?)
We both chuckled, and then he softly hummed the song by Nonoy Zuniga; a whimsical take on that awkward moment when former lovers meet after years apart. And they both became tongue-tied.
Kumusta ka?
Ikaw ay walang pinag-iba,
Ganyan ka rin nang tayo ay huling magkita
Tandang-tanda ko pa habang ako’y papalayo,
Tinitingnan kita hanggang wala ka na
Kumusta ka?
A whirlwind of emotions kept me speechless. My heart was beating fast, and I felt like a nineteen-year-old again.
Althea's timing was perfect and kept me from embarrassing myself with a senseless remark. She came back from her phone call and, without any sign that she noticed anything unusual about us just staring at each other, introduced me to the Chief Medical Officer of the military hospital, Colonel Dr. Samuel....
Sammy nodded to me, shook my hand, and whispered, "Later." It sounded like a promise.
I didn't know how I managed to get through my one-hour lecture. The auditorium was filled to capacity with nurses from the different units in the hospital, as well as a good number of medical doctors. Teaching came naturally to me, and pretty soon, I engaged my students in my presentation.
I was supposed to spend lunch at a small catered affair in the administrative offices with the rest of the speakers, but Althea's secretary ushered me to a waiting Mercedes outside the lobby. Sammy was in the driver's seat. He had changed into a crisp, nicely pressed Barong Tagalog out of deference to the hot weather.
Inside the air-conditioned car, Sammy's smile made my heart melt as he said, "Welcome back, Jo."
“I asked Althea for the privilege of your company, Jo. “, he explained. “I hope it’s okay with you.”
I nodded my agreement, secretly doing a high-five in my mind. I fumbled with my seat belt, and he reached over to attach it. My cheeks felt hot at the closeness, but I maintained a calm facade, despite my turbulent emotions.
Surreptitiously studying his profile, I decided that with his salt-and-pepper hair, his firmer jaw, and his air of confidence, he looked more like George Clooney now. Gone was the self-consciousness of his younger years, when he was still a man coming to terms with his injury.
He looked like a man secure in himself, who had achieved far more than anyone else in his league. He wore success like a second skin.
The years apart fell away as we slipped into the easy conversation that we've always had when I was the student nurse, and he was my patient.
Sammy told me that he went right to medical school after being discharged from the hospital. He had an artificial eye but didn't feel comfortable with it, so he opted for an eye patch instead. He said he had never married; he had two long-term relationships but never married, although he has two grown-up sons who both finished college.
It felt natural to talk to him about my own life and my failed marriage. He seemed to enjoy my stories about my close relationship with my son. The ride to the restaurant felt short, and we both hesitated to leave the car.
I could not remember much about the restaurant, except that it was quiet, with subdued lighting, and that we were seated at a secluded table with a grand piano at the side. It was romantic.
The food was excellent, but we hardly touched it. An undercurrent of excitement brought a flush to my cheeks. Was it because he kept looking at me with such fierce yearning? Or was it because I looked at him with hungry eyes?
After dessert, Sammy pulled out a bouquet of roses from an extra chair. Did he order it in advance? He tentatively reached for my hand. I was surprised, but I did not pull my hand back. I was past the age of innocence, and I welcomed this new beginning.
A force much stronger than ourselves swept us away. I felt powerless to resist the pull of his smoldering eyes; I just felt the moment was right, that twenty-five years apart had vanished, and that we stood at an important crossroads in our lives.
"I have been waiting for this moment, Jo. I never thought I would ever see you again." Sammy's sad smile brought me back to my clinical rotation in the Plastic Surgery unit when he sang Elton John's song to me.
He continued, "I'm good friends with Althea, but I never knew that you were classmates until she started talking about your college reunion. I discreetly asked her about her classmates, and then saw an old picture of you on her Facebook account."
I couldn't help laughing, and we soon doubled over with laughter as he recounted joining FB just to browse my account. He had conspired with Althea to invite me to the Emergency Preparedness symposium.
I feigned annoyance, "Hmmph, I should have made my FB setting private."
He snorted at that. "I also found your blog post about me."
I must have looked shocked at his revelations, because he looked alarmed, probably thinking that he had pushed the limits. I was just completely overwhelmed, but I reassured him by squeezing his hands. All those feelings had rushed in, but I was excited at the chance to be with him again.
Sammy stood up and led me to the piano. As we sat together at the bench, he asked, "Remember this?" and played "our song."
Elton John's song is not a love song, but at that time, just as it was twenty-five years ago, My Skyline Pigeon felt like an expression of love I could no longer deny.
Tears fell down my cheeks. Here I was, sitting beside this man, and I did not want to fly away again. After all these years, our shared passion came back unbidden. I had survived being alone for many years; my friends had often complimented me for my strength against adversity. I was at peace and happy being with my son.
I had resigned myself to a lifetime of being alone. But until now, I never realized there was an empty space in my heart. I thought I would not feel loved again. I had long ago given up hope that I would find the courage to fall in love again.
Here was our second chance at happiness. What was important was that we found each other after twenty-five years. It was destiny.
As he sang to me, Sammy's face looked radiant and full of love. The magic enveloped us, and I didn't care that we were a middle-aged couple living on different continents.
After the last note, Sammy tenderly dried my tears and held me close. And then, he kissed me. It was meant to be.
I thought, “Oh God, please, do not let this be a dream.”
"It's more fun in the Philippines," the tourism banner proclaimed. As I walked through the Ninoy Aquino airport, I wondered what my two-week vacation would bring.
I have gone back to the Philippines for short vacations over the years. Of course, vacations always excited me, but this time, I was coming back for several reunions. The grand family reunion, the college and high school reunions. It felt like going back in time to recapture old memories with family and friends.
The past came back full force, with all its memories. We'd led separate lives and gone down different paths, but we were ready to reminisce about our younger years. Frankly, I was apprehensive about who I would be seeing after all these years.
And through my college friend Althea, who's now the Chief Nurse in the military hospital where I was once a student, I have also been slated to speak at an Emergency Preparedness symposium. Just a few months ago, I reconnected with Althea through Facebook. The miracle of social media. Reach out and touch someone.
Coming back to the hospital where I first met Sammy, my one-eyed soldier. The one who sang "The Skyline Pigeon" to me when I was a 19-year-old student nurse, twenty-five years ago.
On a cold November day in New York, six months ago, nostalgia crept in as I watched a Sam Milby film on TV. The Filipino actor's uncanny resemblance to Sammy made me catch my breath, and my heart fluttered, as it did when I cared for Sammy in the Plastic Surgery ward.
Was it because it was Veterans Day that I started to reminisce about my Sam Milby look-alike soldier?
Sammy's left eye was enucleated from injuries sustained on the battlefield in the Southern Philippines. But despite the injury, I felt drawn to this handsome young soldier, his good right eye as beautiful as possible, even made more special because he lost his left eye in service of his country.
Although nothing untoward happened during my clinical rotation at the Plastic Surgery unit, there was an apparent awareness of each other, an attraction that never had a chance to prosper. I was a nursing student, and he was a patient. Our worlds were not supposed to come together.
Just before my month-long clinical rotation was finished, Sammy confided his feelings for me, but he conceded that I needed to follow my American dream. As much as I was enamored with him, I realized I had to leave.
Because I wanted to explore the world and because I wanted more for myself and my family, I said goodbye. Just like the skyline pigeon in the song that he sang to me. And so, a few years after graduation, this skyline pigeon flew away to distant lands. I have never heard from him again.
And now, I'm back at the same military hospital. It was ironic that Althea now worked there. Two days ago, we sat together at our college reunion and talked about my presentation. I attributed her exuberance to the upcoming hospital event she had organized.
I have been teaching emergency preparedness to my nurses in my hospital in New York. My audience today will be a combined group of nurses and doctors. I will share knowledge gained from years of disaster management classes and hands-on experience volunteering with the Medical Reserve Corps and a few disaster relief groups in Haiti.
The hospital had a facelift. Now, another impressive building stood on the right side of the big compound. A full-service hospital with 1,000 beds to serve injured soldiers; it was now modern and fully equipped, so different from the quaint hospital I knew 25 years ago.
I smiled at a group of student nurses passing by. They looked immaculate in their nurses' uniform and starched apron, white nursing caps, and dazzling white shoes. I heard them chattering about their new assignment and their cute clinical instructor.
I remembered my student days: carefree days of new discoveries, new experiences, and budding love. With our stiff aprons, blue-and-white sheer sucker uniforms, and white nurses' caps, we breezed through the years with carefree equanimity and optimism, fully aware that real nursing life would be very different.
Then, an image of Sammy as he surprised our group with a song at our going-away party brought a sensation of regret for that interrupted romance. He had a beautiful baritone voice, haunting in its earnest sincerity. I guarded the secret of my feelings for him and only wrote about our story in a blog, many years later.
I met Althea in the hospital lobby. She looked different from the happy-go-lucky student nurse I knew. Tall and slim, she looked authoritative in her military uniform. I forgot she was now a Lieutenant Colonel; all the servicemen bowed in deference as she passed, and they eyed me, a stranger, in my power suit and high heels.
I caught my image in a mirror. Not bad for a 45-year-old, but too old for these servicemen. With my short hair, brown highlights, and trim body (thanks to the Zumba classes), I looked years younger, modesty aside.
But I didn't come here looking to flirt with anyone; I had been divorced for ten years, and the memory of the heartache was enough to turn me wary of romance. My son was still in 2nd year of college, majoring in Biology, my future doctor. He couldn't come for vacation because of school.
Althea and I walked down the long corridor leading to the Administrative Offices when her cell phone rang. She excused herself and moved a few feet away to accept the call. I passed the time by looking at the massive murals of Philippine landscapes that adorned the hospital walls.
"Hi, Jo." I knew the voice, but I didn't turn around right away. I was sure I had just imagined it; that I was so caught up in the emotions of my return to the hospital that I would conjure up the voice that had filled my dreams in the past.
He cleared his throat, and I turned around to face Sammy. After all these years.
If this were a movie, it would have been in slow motion. I looked up at his face as he towered over me. And I whispered his name in recognition, "Sammy."
His expectant face lit up, as if he'd been holding his breath and didn't want to assume I would recognize him. He gave me a most beautiful smile. Breathtaking.
The years had been good to him. He looked as handsome as I remembered him. He still wore an eye patch over his left eye, but his beautiful, long-lashed brown right eye twinkled with amusement at my startled gasp. What was it with that pirate look, I thought. It gave him a dangerous, exciting look.
Sammy stood tall and distinguished-looking in his military uniform. A full-fledged colonel. We both said the words, "Kumusta ka?" We just stood there, looking at each other. All those years apart, all we could say was "Kumusta ka? (How are you?)
We both chuckled, and then he softly hummed the song by Nonoy Zuniga; a whimsical take on that awkward moment when former lovers meet after years apart. And they both became tongue-tied.
Kumusta ka?
Ikaw ay walang pinag-iba,
Ganyan ka rin nang tayo ay huling magkita
Tandang-tanda ko pa habang ako’y papalayo,
Tinitingnan kita hanggang wala ka na
Kumusta ka?
A whirlwind of emotions kept me speechless. My heart was beating fast, and I felt like a nineteen-year-old again.
Althea's timing was perfect and kept me from embarrassing myself with a senseless remark. She came back from her phone call and, without any sign that she noticed anything unusual about us just staring at each other, introduced me to the Chief Medical Officer of the military hospital, Colonel Dr. Samuel....
Sammy nodded to me, shook my hand, and whispered, "Later." It sounded like a promise.
I didn't know how I managed to get through my one-hour lecture. The auditorium was filled to capacity with nurses from the different units in the hospital, as well as a good number of medical doctors. Teaching came naturally to me, and pretty soon, I engaged my students in my presentation.
I was supposed to spend lunch at a small catered affair in the administrative offices with the rest of the speakers, but Althea's secretary ushered me to a waiting Mercedes outside the lobby. Sammy was in the driver's seat. He had changed into a crisp, nicely pressed Barong Tagalog out of deference to the hot weather.
Inside the air-conditioned car, Sammy's smile made my heart melt as he said, "Welcome back, Jo."
“I asked Althea for the privilege of your company, Jo. “, he explained. “I hope it’s okay with you.”
I nodded my agreement, secretly doing a high-five in my mind. I fumbled with my seat belt, and he reached over to attach it. My cheeks felt hot at the closeness, but I maintained a calm facade, despite my turbulent emotions.
Surreptitiously studying his profile, I decided that with his salt-and-pepper hair, his firmer jaw, and his air of confidence, he looked more like George Clooney now. Gone was the self-consciousness of his younger years, when he was still a man coming to terms with his injury.
He looked like a man secure in himself, who had achieved far more than anyone else in his league. He wore success like a second skin.
The years apart fell away as we slipped into the easy conversation that we've always had when I was the student nurse, and he was my patient.
Sammy told me that he went right to medical school after being discharged from the hospital. He had an artificial eye but didn't feel comfortable with it, so he opted for an eye patch instead. He said he had never married; he had two long-term relationships but never married, although he has two grown-up sons who both finished college.
It felt natural to talk to him about my own life and my failed marriage. He seemed to enjoy my stories about my close relationship with my son. The ride to the restaurant felt short, and we both hesitated to leave the car.
I could not remember much about the restaurant, except that it was quiet, with subdued lighting, and that we were seated at a secluded table with a grand piano at the side. It was romantic.
The food was excellent, but we hardly touched it. An undercurrent of excitement brought a flush to my cheeks. Was it because he kept looking at me with such fierce yearning? Or was it because I looked at him with hungry eyes?
After dessert, Sammy pulled out a bouquet of roses from an extra chair. Did he order it in advance? He tentatively reached for my hand. I was surprised, but I did not pull my hand back. I was past the age of innocence, and I welcomed this new beginning.
A force much stronger than ourselves swept us away. I felt powerless to resist the pull of his smoldering eyes; I just felt the moment was right, that twenty-five years apart had vanished, and that we stood at an important crossroads in our lives.
"I have been waiting for this moment, Jo. I never thought I would ever see you again." Sammy's sad smile brought me back to my clinical rotation in the Plastic Surgery unit when he sang Elton John's song to me.
He continued, "I'm good friends with Althea, but I never knew that you were classmates until she started talking about your college reunion. I discreetly asked her about her classmates, and then saw an old picture of you on her Facebook account."
I couldn't help laughing, and we soon doubled over with laughter as he recounted joining FB just to browse my account. He had conspired with Althea to invite me to the Emergency Preparedness symposium.
I feigned annoyance, "Hmmph, I should have made my FB setting private."
He snorted at that. "I also found your blog post about me."
I must have looked shocked at his revelations, because he looked alarmed, probably thinking that he had pushed the limits. I was just completely overwhelmed, but I reassured him by squeezing his hands. All those feelings had rushed in, but I was excited at the chance to be with him again.
Sammy stood up and led me to the piano. As we sat together at the bench, he asked, "Remember this?" and played "our song."
Elton John's song is not a love song, but at that time, just as it was twenty-five years ago, My Skyline Pigeon felt like an expression of love I could no longer deny.
Tears fell down my cheeks. Here I was, sitting beside this man, and I did not want to fly away again. After all these years, our shared passion came back unbidden. I had survived being alone for many years; my friends had often complimented me for my strength against adversity. I was at peace and happy being with my son.
I had resigned myself to a lifetime of being alone. But until now, I never realized there was an empty space in my heart. I thought I would not feel loved again. I had long ago given up hope that I would find the courage to fall in love again.
Here was our second chance at happiness. What was important was that we found each other after twenty-five years. It was destiny.
As he sang to me, Sammy's face looked radiant and full of love. The magic enveloped us, and I didn't care that we were a middle-aged couple living on different continents.
After the last note, Sammy tenderly dried my tears and held me close. And then, he kissed me. It was meant to be.
I thought, “Oh God, please, do not let this be a dream.”
PART 3- THE SOLDIER, THE NURSE, AND TWO WORDS
We kissed. It was twenty-five years after we first met, and thankfully, it was not just a dream.
Sammy tenderly held my face as we kissed. I felt like precious china in his embrace. My tears kept falling as I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this moment that brought us together. I felt him tremble as he fought to control his emotions.
We did not stay long at the restaurant. He brought me back to the hospital and gave me a private tour of the place where we first met. My friend Althea, the Chief Nurse of the hospital who arranged the emergency preparedness symposium, was unreachable (on purpose, I'm sure), so Colonel Dr. Samuel drove around the huge campus and gave me a funny, entertaining narrative of the changes in the landscape.
I used to be a student nurse, but I flew away to the United States to fulfill my American dream. He was my one-eyed patient, a victim of the wars in the Southern Philippines. We never spoke about our feelings for each other until the last day of my clinical rotation, but an undeniable attraction couldn't be fulfilled at that moment.
He went on to become a medical doctor in the army. He continued to serve his country and helped the soldiers, which he still does. Sammy said I inspired him to pursue the medical field. Despite being devastated by my leaving, he took comfort in the fact that I cared for him, even if only for a short time.
We spent the rest of the day together, driving through Makati and Intramuros. I ditched my blazer and bought some cheap sandals from a sidewalk vendor. Sammy changed into a simple T-shirt. Soon after Sammy parked his Mercedes in a hotel parking lot, we skipped the fancy restaurants.
We were like any other couple strolling hand-in-hand along the boulevard. We sat close on a bench and watched the famous Manila Bay sunset, talked, argued about politics, and laughed at each other's jokes.
Sammy tenderly held my face as we kissed. I felt like precious china in his embrace. My tears kept falling as I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this moment that brought us together. I felt him tremble as he fought to control his emotions.
We did not stay long at the restaurant. He brought me back to the hospital and gave me a private tour of the place where we first met. My friend Althea, the Chief Nurse of the hospital who arranged the emergency preparedness symposium, was unreachable (on purpose, I'm sure), so Colonel Dr. Samuel drove around the huge campus and gave me a funny, entertaining narrative of the changes in the landscape.
I used to be a student nurse, but I flew away to the United States to fulfill my American dream. He was my one-eyed patient, a victim of the wars in the Southern Philippines. We never spoke about our feelings for each other until the last day of my clinical rotation, but an undeniable attraction couldn't be fulfilled at that moment.
He went on to become a medical doctor in the army. He continued to serve his country and helped the soldiers, which he still does. Sammy said I inspired him to pursue the medical field. Despite being devastated by my leaving, he took comfort in the fact that I cared for him, even if only for a short time.
We spent the rest of the day together, driving through Makati and Intramuros. I ditched my blazer and bought some cheap sandals from a sidewalk vendor. Sammy changed into a simple T-shirt. Soon after Sammy parked his Mercedes in a hotel parking lot, we skipped the fancy restaurants.
We were like any other couple strolling hand-in-hand along the boulevard. We sat close on a bench and watched the famous Manila Bay sunset, talked, argued about politics, and laughed at each other's jokes.
Dinner was Chickenjoy, fish balls, and halo-halo. Cheap date, but the best I ever had. Priceless.
I pushed back all the other concerns, and all that mattered was that moment. I willingly stepped into his warm embrace, basking in the surge of emotions. We just held on to each other, fearful of being brought back to the reality that in just three days, I would be going back home to New York.
But reality stinks. I had to go back home to New York, back to my 20-year-old son who still needed my presence. Although he was preparing to go into medical school, I still needed to guide him as he transitioned to his own adult life. Sammy thought I was staying for a month, as I had posted on Facebook, but I explained that my plans had changed because my son had to transfer to his new dorm in a week.
He drove me home and met my mother, who eyed him with suspicion.
"He looks like a movie star. Even with just one eye and his grey hair, he would still get all the girls. Have you not learned from your no-good ex-husband?" my mother asked right after he left.
In two days, he had totally charmed my mother. Sammy came back the next day and brought all of us in the family to his house in Tagaytay. He was a humble man, despite the opulent surroundings and his well-furnished mansion.
Up there in the mountains, away from my family's teasing eyes, Sammy spirited me away to another secluded place. We shared sweet kisses and fierce embraces.
He pulled out an old picture: a group photo of my classmates and me looking toward the makeshift stage as the patients in Sammy's group gave us a short program. I was at the center of the picture, in profile, my long hair pulled back in a ponytail, and my lips curled up in a smile.
"I took this picture, and it has been in my possession for twenty-five years," he sighed. "I knew you had your dreams to follow. That's the only reason I did not pursue you after you left."
He said, "Last November, I woke up from a deep sleep, and as if somebody was calling me and touching my face. For whatever reason, I remembered the picture I have of you."
I gasped. I told him, "It was November of last year on Veterans Day when I watched a Sam Milby movie. I paused the film, covered Sam's left eye, and thought of you."
Sammy hugged me close, and we both shivered at the strange coincidence. I believe that it was Divine Providence. Running his hands through my hair, Sammy confided that he prayed and asked God to help him find me.
"I found you; I will never let you go again."
And yet, I went back home to New York, back to my son. Sammy could not come to the airport because of a hospital emergency. On the phone, I said goodbye, my voice cracking with emotion. He tried to tell me something, but the sound of planes overhead drowned out any more conversation. I never even got to tell him that I love him.
Today... June 2012
I walk down the aisle with my handsome son escorting me. He tells me that I have never looked better. All around me, my friends and family smile and applaud, all sharing in the joy of this blessed moment.
I am marrying Sammy twenty-six years after I met him.
Unbeknownst to me, Sammy and his two sons followed me to New York after my vacation and met up with my son to ask for my hand in marriage.
My son arranged for me to meet him at the Roosevelt Tram station on Roosevelt Island, only to surprise me when he arrived with Sammy and his two sons. And there we were, just the five of us, up in the air in the tram when Sammy proposed to me.
As I wrote in another blog post (where Sammy took the idea), the glorious orange, red, and purple colors of the sky over the East River on one side and the Manhattan skyline on the other provided an awesome backdrop for the proposal.
I jumped in delight, and the tram swayed in agreement. The four men all paled and grabbed the side rails inside the tram. Just after I said a resounding "Yes," all four men had tears in their eyes. It was perfect.
And here we are, back in the Philippines for the grand day. The chapel is bedecked with flowers. My friends had gone crazy; they've been waiting for this as payback for those wacky bridal showers I have thrown before. So, why are they all wiping tears as I march under the outstretched swords of the military guards?
My groom, the colonel, the chief medical officer, and my one-eyed soldier, is waiting for me at the front of the chapel. Although we had only been together for a short time, I am certain that he had never looked better. Tall and fit, with salt-and-pepper hair and his left eye patch. My handsome Sam Milby/ George Clooney soldier. His full-dress white military uniform commands attention; his insignia gleaming on his shoulder board. He is a prince. Mine.
His beautiful smile makes my heart sing. I want to run towards him; he's just a hop-scotch away, but decorum insists that I march along with my handsome son. Besides, haven't we waited all these years already, so I can wait for just a few more minutes. We have the rest of our lives to spend together, but would one lifetime be enough?
The minister delivers a great sermon. I try to hold back my tears. But then I see the choir members crying.
Now, it's time for the wedding song by the soloist. To my surprise, the minister hands Sammy a microphone.
My eyes widen in alarm that Sammy will sing "My Skyline Pigeon" here on our wedding day. It is a special song for us and will always be "our song," but even I feel that it would not be appropriate for a wedding song.
Sammy winks at me, and as he holds my hand, he makes a promise with this song.
I pushed back all the other concerns, and all that mattered was that moment. I willingly stepped into his warm embrace, basking in the surge of emotions. We just held on to each other, fearful of being brought back to the reality that in just three days, I would be going back home to New York.
But reality stinks. I had to go back home to New York, back to my 20-year-old son who still needed my presence. Although he was preparing to go into medical school, I still needed to guide him as he transitioned to his own adult life. Sammy thought I was staying for a month, as I had posted on Facebook, but I explained that my plans had changed because my son had to transfer to his new dorm in a week.
He drove me home and met my mother, who eyed him with suspicion.
"He looks like a movie star. Even with just one eye and his grey hair, he would still get all the girls. Have you not learned from your no-good ex-husband?" my mother asked right after he left.
In two days, he had totally charmed my mother. Sammy came back the next day and brought all of us in the family to his house in Tagaytay. He was a humble man, despite the opulent surroundings and his well-furnished mansion.
Up there in the mountains, away from my family's teasing eyes, Sammy spirited me away to another secluded place. We shared sweet kisses and fierce embraces.
He pulled out an old picture: a group photo of my classmates and me looking toward the makeshift stage as the patients in Sammy's group gave us a short program. I was at the center of the picture, in profile, my long hair pulled back in a ponytail, and my lips curled up in a smile.
"I took this picture, and it has been in my possession for twenty-five years," he sighed. "I knew you had your dreams to follow. That's the only reason I did not pursue you after you left."
He said, "Last November, I woke up from a deep sleep, and as if somebody was calling me and touching my face. For whatever reason, I remembered the picture I have of you."
I gasped. I told him, "It was November of last year on Veterans Day when I watched a Sam Milby movie. I paused the film, covered Sam's left eye, and thought of you."
Sammy hugged me close, and we both shivered at the strange coincidence. I believe that it was Divine Providence. Running his hands through my hair, Sammy confided that he prayed and asked God to help him find me.
"I found you; I will never let you go again."
And yet, I went back home to New York, back to my son. Sammy could not come to the airport because of a hospital emergency. On the phone, I said goodbye, my voice cracking with emotion. He tried to tell me something, but the sound of planes overhead drowned out any more conversation. I never even got to tell him that I love him.
Today... June 2012
I walk down the aisle with my handsome son escorting me. He tells me that I have never looked better. All around me, my friends and family smile and applaud, all sharing in the joy of this blessed moment.
I am marrying Sammy twenty-six years after I met him.
Unbeknownst to me, Sammy and his two sons followed me to New York after my vacation and met up with my son to ask for my hand in marriage.
My son arranged for me to meet him at the Roosevelt Tram station on Roosevelt Island, only to surprise me when he arrived with Sammy and his two sons. And there we were, just the five of us, up in the air in the tram when Sammy proposed to me.
As I wrote in another blog post (where Sammy took the idea), the glorious orange, red, and purple colors of the sky over the East River on one side and the Manhattan skyline on the other provided an awesome backdrop for the proposal.
I jumped in delight, and the tram swayed in agreement. The four men all paled and grabbed the side rails inside the tram. Just after I said a resounding "Yes," all four men had tears in their eyes. It was perfect.
And here we are, back in the Philippines for the grand day. The chapel is bedecked with flowers. My friends had gone crazy; they've been waiting for this as payback for those wacky bridal showers I have thrown before. So, why are they all wiping tears as I march under the outstretched swords of the military guards?
My groom, the colonel, the chief medical officer, and my one-eyed soldier, is waiting for me at the front of the chapel. Although we had only been together for a short time, I am certain that he had never looked better. Tall and fit, with salt-and-pepper hair and his left eye patch. My handsome Sam Milby/ George Clooney soldier. His full-dress white military uniform commands attention; his insignia gleaming on his shoulder board. He is a prince. Mine.
His beautiful smile makes my heart sing. I want to run towards him; he's just a hop-scotch away, but decorum insists that I march along with my handsome son. Besides, haven't we waited all these years already, so I can wait for just a few more minutes. We have the rest of our lives to spend together, but would one lifetime be enough?
The minister delivers a great sermon. I try to hold back my tears. But then I see the choir members crying.
Now, it's time for the wedding song by the soloist. To my surprise, the minister hands Sammy a microphone.
My eyes widen in alarm that Sammy will sing "My Skyline Pigeon" here on our wedding day. It is a special song for us and will always be "our song," but even I feel that it would not be appropriate for a wedding song.
Sammy winks at me, and as he holds my hand, he makes a promise with this song.
"I Do." Two words that seal the deal. And at this hour, I am being wed to my prince charming, who has held me in his heart and in his mind all these years.
I say "I do" for all the right reasons, for all the beautiful things that have happened to me since we've found each other, for these wonderful feelings of being cherished for who I am today.
I do want to spend the rest of forever with my soulmate. To discover more of the man that I love. I want to make up for the lost time, not really regret the years in between, because I am here today for what I've gone through. I do, because he makes me deliriously happy.
And so we will love each other, for all eternity, more than twenty-five years.
I say "I do" for all the right reasons, for all the beautiful things that have happened to me since we've found each other, for these wonderful feelings of being cherished for who I am today.
I do want to spend the rest of forever with my soulmate. To discover more of the man that I love. I want to make up for the lost time, not really regret the years in between, because I am here today for what I've gone through. I do, because he makes me deliriously happy.
And so we will love each other, for all eternity, more than twenty-five years.
THE END
Part 1- Actually happened. I had no contact with Sammy at all after we parted ways.
Part 2 & 3- Just a figment of my very bold imagination. What if? LOL.
