The Lost Child at the Bus Station in 1998

In the winter of 1998, the Cubao Bus Station (Quezon City) was packed with people. Buses were packed one after another, the dust and smoke mixed with the cries, calls, and cries of children, making everyone overwhelmed.

Mang Pedro, a poor farmer in Pangasinan, had a dream of going to Mindanao to reclaim land and change his life. Beside him was his wife – Aling Rosa – and their two-year-old son, named Ramon. On this trip, they brought almost all their assets in a few sacks: pots, blankets, and some precious seeds.

The crowd was packed. While Pedro was struggling to carry his luggage, Rosa let go of her child to pick up the bag. In just a moment, the little hand disappeared.

“Ramon! Anak ko, nasaan ka na?!” – Rosa screamed, tearing the bus station apart.

Pedro threw the sack and rushed to look for him. The bus station was vast, people coming and going like waves. The two-year-old child was as small as a grain of sand in the sea of ​​people. All that day, and many days after, the couple turned every corner, called the police, posted flyers, but Ramon seemed to disappear into nothingness.

The bus to Mindanao finally rolled on. Pedro and Rosa had to bear the pain, leaving their souls in Cubao that day. They consoled themselves: “Maybe the child got lost, someone kind took him in and raised him…” But every night Rosa sobbed, her hand still seemed to hold her child’s hand.

Twenty-two years later

Time passed. The red soil of Mindanao fed the family with coffee, bananas, and corn. Pedro and Rosa gave birth to two more children, but the scar Ramon left behind never healed. Every time there was a memorial service for his parents, Rosa still put out an extra bowl of white rice for the missing child. Pedro was quiet, his face full of suffering. Whenever a convoy of cars from Luzon came in, he went to the station to wait.

“My son… must be very old now,” he whispered, his eyes red.

2020. One rainy afternoon, a charity group came to the village to give gifts. Leading the way was a young man in his twenties, with a bright face and a strange yet familiar voice. He introduced himself:
“My name is Ramon Dela Cruz, from a charity organization in Manila.”

Hearing that name, Rosa’s heart stopped beating. She paused, staring at the young man’s face. Those eyes, those dimples… seemed to come back from the past. She trembled and asked:

– What year were you… born?

– Yes, 1996. – he smiled.

Pedro walked over, his voice hoarse:
– And… your biological parents… do you know anything?

The young man paused for a moment, then slowly said:
“I heard from my adoptive parents that they picked me up at a bus station in the North when I was only two years old. I don’t remember anything, only a vague memory: a woman in a floral shirt, crying and calling ‘Ramon! Ramon!’”

The atmosphere was choked. Rosa burst into tears, hugging him:
“Ramon! Anak ko… ikaw talaga! Nanay mo ako! I’ve been looking for you for 22 years!”

Tears flowed. Ramon stood still, then burst into tears like a child, hugging both his father and mother. He had also longed to find his roots, but he never expected the meeting to happen in the distant red soil of Mindanao.

Belated reunion

In the following days, the family was overwhelmed with joy of reunion. Ramon learned that he had two younger siblings, and he called out “Kuya Ramon” in a broken voice. He talked about his adoptive parents – who had passed away a few years ago, but who had always loved him like their own children, and taught him to live a decent life.

The last night before returning to Manila, Ramon sat with his biological parents on the porch, listening to the pouring rain. He held their hands tightly, his voice trembling:

“I don’t blame you. I know that day was just a disaster. The important thing is that I can return now.”

Rosa choked up:
“I’m so sorry for you… But God has given us a chance to meet again. From now on, I will never let you go again.”

Pedro turned away, hiding his tears. The hard-working farmer finally saw his lost child return. Years of hard work and hardship to make a living, now suddenly felt as light as a cloud.

The story is told over and over

That year, the whole Mindanao region was abuzz with the story of “the lost child from Cubao in 1998 returning.” Amidst the endless losses of life, there are belated miracles that still come, like drops of healing water to heal wounds that have been cracked for decades.

And in the small wooden house, every night, the sound of reunion laughter resounds – the laughter that Pedro and Rosa thought had been lost forever since that fateful day at the bus station years ago.