Biernes Santo

   Last Good Friday I, together with my two sons , went to the parish church to hear the mass. I remember when I was younger, my grandmother and I used to hear mass every Sunday and we always join the procession during Good Friday. My grandmother cannot do that anymore because at the age of 72, she can hardly walk due to osteoathritis. Now that I have my own kids, it's my turn to relive that "legacy". 
   The church was crowded with churchgoers from all walks of life. I recognized some of my former classmates, my former teachers who didn't age a bit, former school heartthrobs, former class bullies, and so many strangers. I was too distracted during that time and I could hardly focus because of the extreme heat.
    I closed my eyes  and I tried my best to focus on the homily.The priest's homily really struck me. I didn't understand why I had this feeling that he was referring to me.
    I was really devastated, but I had no one to turn to. No one would understand me. It's so difficult to pretend that I'm happy in front of other people but in reality I felt so alone. I felt like I've lost a lot - my self-worth, my self esteem, my self respect. Everyday has been a struggle to keep my sanity... to stop blaming my self for everything that happened to me.
    Part of the Good Friday mass is the kissing of the crucifix. The priest stood at the center of the aisle while holding a big crucificix. I joined the queue of the churchgoers and waited patiently for my turn. I walked as if I was carrying a heavy cross. I kissed the feet of Jesus Christ on the cross and mumbled a short prayer asking Him to help me ease the emotional pain. 
    After the mass, we joined the procession. It was a long journey. We went home tired and hungry.