IMAGINARY FRIENDS

Several years ago, I chanced upon an article in a parenting magazine that said encouraging your own kids to have “imaginary friends” is healthy.  One, it develops creativity. Second, the writer of the article observed that an imaginary friend is like a kid’s alter ego.  It functions as the kid’s spokesperson when he or she isn’t confident to express a sentiment or even some kind of a principle.  “Ernie says I don’t have to go to the dentist anymore ‘coz I already promised that I won’t eat candies.”  “Ernie says candies are bad for my teeth”. 

I believe that having some kind of an imaginary friend actually helps a person develop psycho-emotional strength.  It makes a person believe in something unseen yet powerful enough to protect him or her from harm.  It is that inner voice, which encourages one to keep going and believe that deep down inside, he or she can actually rise above any ordeal.  Others call it faith.

Anyway, I tried the trick on my kids.  My daughter was quick to respond.  So for almost a year, we had Bugsy, Pancy and Fonzy eating with us on the dinner table.  At times, I would tell my little girl that Pancy wouldn’t come back to play with her the next day if she continues to stay up late.  And so, my daughter would readily go to bed.  My eldest Jeri thought it was all bull.

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I’m very choosy when it comes to my friends.  At least, that’s how one college buddy describes me.  For me, true friends never change despite not seeing each other for years.  True friendship does not necessarily mean “being there” physically all the time.  Friendship is a gift.  It isn’t asked.  It isn’t sought either.

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Diosie and I normally do not see each other very often.  But when my father went on a coma, Diosie came to the hospital with a rosary and some multivitamins.  She tried her best to uplift my spirits despite the fact that she was going through a tough time herself.  She has lost her father in a fatal stroke less than six months before my dad fell ill. 

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I met Anna about two to three years ago in a US-based e-group for parents who have special kids.  She’s also Filipina and never misses to talk about believing in God.  We only interacted then via e-mails and text messaging.  She has a truly gifted daughter who had been diagnosed to have autism at the age of three and a half.  Most so-called experts have been telling us that autism is not curable.  Her daughter is now a teenager and recently been assessed as normal.  I consider Anna to be one of my true friends.   She came at a time when I was starting to falter in my faith.  She was able to make me believe in the impossible and the invisible - again.  She practically restored my faith in my childhood imaginary friend: God.  Up to now, we haven’t seen each other in person.  She has already migrated to New Zealand, but we have managed to keep in touch. I do believe that I know her from the heart.  I am confident that she is a beautiful person with a beautiful soul as well.      

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One of my longest buddies lives several thousand miles away.  We haven’t seen each other for like two decades now, but when we chat, it’s like we just saw each other yesterday.  I can’t say that my friend is always there for me and vice versa.  That would be quite impossible considering the distance and differences in time zones.  He would, however, never fail to remind me of the “toughie” that I am; that I have real talent; and that I should pursue my dreams despite the stumbling blocks.  Having been through some lowest times in his life himself, he has come to adapt this motto that “when you hit rock bottom, there’s no other way to go but up”.  He would always tell me that I should learn to pull from my own strength, and the only person whom I can truly rely on is me.  He has given me the most precious gift that I will ever have – myself.

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I was tucking the kids in bed one night.  My daughter, as she has always done so for the last two years, asked me to teach her how to pray.  As usual, she asked Jesus to watch over her during the night so she can dream of butterflies, big houses made of hearts, and balloons.  After “amen,” she turned to her elder brother Jay, took his hand and prompted him to pray.  “Jesus, please keep an eye on Jay so he won’t be scared of monsters.  Please teach him how to dream of butterflies, hearts and balloons so he’ll be happy.  Please teach him to say his name Jay-jay Te.  Please, Jesus, please?”  When Jay was first diagnosed of autism eight years ago, therapists and other parents would tell me that special kids are gifts.  Well, I consider all my three kids as gifts anyway.  For Jay, however, I believe that his little sister is the one special gift in his life.  And she’s not imaginary.