The end of every journey is home. There is nothing more soothing and more comforting for me than the thought of coming home. I left home early in life to enter the seminary. And I always relished coming home to where Ima, Tatang, my brothers and sisters were. That was home. For no matter how far I roamed or how long I might have been gone, I knew I would always be the beloved son whenever and wherever I came home.
Then I built my own home with Anabelle and we had three terrific sons. I realized that home was not a particular place. Home was where my heart was. Home was where I could scratch where it itched. My work took me to many places and quite often. In a way, I enjoyed those travels as they widened my horizons. But more importantly, I relished the unique feelings I have come to associate with coming home.
Life is a journey. And if it is a journey, then I shall also be coming home at its end. I think of all the home-comings in my life and compress them into one final coming home at the end of my life-journey. It is actually an exciting thought. And what is more thrilling, the person who has been with me throughout all this journey has said, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Yes, I am coming home to the Father. And I am excited. I shall again see Ima and Tatang and all my friends and loved ones who had earlier come to the end of their journey. And I shall, in time, welcome home all my loved ones who will come to the end of their journey.