Twenty-eight years ago, on November 20, 1994, my family’s long-time wish was granted. At 37, an age considerably late for motherhood, my mom still gave birth to her fourth child, my youngest brother.
At around four o’clock in the morning, right before going to school, I found my nine-year-old self looking at that eight-pound baby with rosy cheeks in the nursery room in a local hospital. My Kuya, baby sister Cara, and I shed tears of joy together and raved at how cute our answered prayer was. He looked like a Shanghai spring roll as he was tightly wrapped in white cloth. Lorenzo Carlo Adajar was finally born.
My siblings and I were beyond thrilled to welcome the newest family member. In fact, we bugged and begged our parents for one. I was just wondering back then why I sensed something was wrong. While congratulatory messages and gifts came flooding in, my parents’ faces were puzzling. It was only days after settling back home when I found the answer. Papa and Mama gathered my siblings and me in a room and broke the news. “Enzo has Down Syndrome,” Papa announced, with his voice breaking. In tandem, my parents explained to the best of their abilities what the condition was. Everything became a blur. All I could remember was that my brother has a lot of needs. He is differently abled. He is special. And my parents warned us beforehand that the little one might need more of their time and attention. That early, they sought our understanding and cooperation.
When I look back, my parents’ love set the foundation for the kind of life we built around Enzo. No matter how broken they were at the time and clueless about how to navigate the special kind of parenting required of them, they gladly took on the responsibilities. Not once did I ever feel they questioned the situation nor did they feel victims of the circumstance. They managed to always put a positive spin on everything that was happening. Even in spilling heartbreaking pieces of information like Enzo’s expected intellectual disability, being prone to health complications, and possible short life span, Papa and Mama worked their magic.
My parents, every chance they got, took the opportunity to make our young minds realize that life is a temporary gift we need to cherish and every single day is an opportunity to shower Enzo with all the love we could give. One night, Mama reminded us, “Remember how we always ended our prayer with ‘Thy will be done’? God wants us to stand by that now. He gave us Enzo because God is aware we are capable of providing him what he needs.”
Mama’s claim was loaded. Our capability to provide Enzo with what he needs entailed a lot of sacrifices. Our weekends spent for travel and toy shopping turned into trips to one of the few developmental pediatricians in the country, two hours away from home then. Enzo needed therapy and a lot of supplemental support. What amazes me to this day was how things seemed effortless and fun. My parents made us feel we were part of a lifelong project, that we belonged to a master plan.
Fast forward to almost three decades after, Enzo helped shape the people we are today. He remains to be the glue that binds and bonds our family and the daily reminder of what true and pure love is.
I have lost count of the number of people whose lives he has touched. He leaves a big impact with the smallest of gestures. To name a few, years ago, our helper in Dubai reported how Enzo instantly hugged and comforted her when he saw her crying out of homesickness away from her family in the Philippines. My Lolo also once raved about how he fell asleep on the couch and found Enzo covering him with a blanket and placing a glass of water within reach.
Those little things, upon reflection, deserve a celebration. I must have gotten so used to Enzo being the way he is. He gives without expecting anything in return. He offers the most genuine smile, gives the biggest hugs, and voluntarily shares even the last piece of his favorite food.
The person who was once expected by people to make life difficult for us, has been nothing but a source of joy and inspiration. Enzo taught us the most valuable life lessons and gave our lives direction.
Patterned after my parents’, Enzo’s love is unconditional. It is not his condition, but the pureness of his child-like heart that makes him extra special.
The author dedicates this piece to her youngest brother who turned 28 years old last month and her parents who just celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary.
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