Last night, we visited the wake of a grandmother, the wife of my paternal grandmother's brother. This grandmother (by law) is my family's share of the mysterious to the world. She often said that departed family and friends are staple guests in the old house where their family lives--where I used to live as a child. "Oy andito si Man Sepa (short for Manang Josefa, my grandmother) .." or some other relative who have long or recently passed away. She was blind because of diabetes yet she sees so much more with her unseeing eyes. That house exposed me to the annual Pabasa every Lent among many other things.
That old house surely brings back a lot of memories. (I wonder how, as a two-year old, I can remember a lot of things as if they all happened some five years ago…) I remember its wooden flooring. The wooden steps. The old artesian well which used to stand in front of the house. The bamboo gate. I remember crying because I woke up alone in a room. I was crying my Lola's name. I remember having my picture taken in front of the then hi-tech coloured TV set sent by my lolo working in Saudi at that time. I was holding a doll and wearing a pink dress. My hair was tied in a pony tail with lots of baby bangs around my face. I remember the story where they said I wore a red dress in a visit to the aplaya and they tease that a bull will chase me because bulls hate red. They said my Lola would frequently bring me there because fresh air is good for children. I am no longer sure if the aplaya still exists. Well… this is a madly polluted, changing world.
That house has a lot of ghosts lingering in its shadows. And I am not referring only to those unseen entities my Lola Huling have seen. It has seen the wheel turn for all of us. How the lives of people who live/lived there changed. How people go old. How souls grow or waste away...
The years I was there were tumultuous years. Many years ago, when our house was razed by fire, our family had to live separate from each other to make things work. We are five children to parents who are both not children of the wealthy like Jeanne Napoles is. My mother gave birth prematurely and both my twin sisters died, one on my father's birthday. My parents and siblings lived with a neighbor; Living in a space that fits a papag for all of them, while me and my grandmother lived with her brother's family in this old house I have mentioned that housed some of my earliest memories. How hard it must have been for my mother and father… My family was sustained by the generosity of other people--a neighbor and a relative.
Going back to the old house triggered in me a surprising tsunami of nostalgia. Oh how good God has been to us! We, as a family have seen really bad times. And I honour my parents for really carrying us through. My mother is the most hard-working mother ever. In her pre-citizen card days, she would wake up at 2am to buy goods in Divisoria and wake up at 6am to tend our store in the market. When our house was burned the second time about 10 or so years ago, she really was the strong one for us. It was from her and my Lola (Ada) where I got the idea that women are not supposed to be mere damsels in distress, women are supposed to be both strong yet loving. My father, for his part, was the one who have molded me to become who I am--us to who we are. He taught me to write my name. He bought magazines--Time, Life, Asiaweek… that started up my love for reading and cultures. I remember him playing the harmonica for us and listening to Beatles, Beegees, Sheena Easton, name it… all day. Ergo, the musicality of our home.
We used to watch TV from a neighbor's window.
Little by little, we stood on our feet again. We all went to attend university. We never lacked what we need. Even assistance with homeworks. It is only lately that I realized that my father's constant concern to cook the best dishes for us. He always want us to experience the best food all the time. From this started our passion for food--both cooking it and eating it. Maybe it is because there was a time when they were not able to give them. Yet, my parents taught us to live simply and to find joy in the ordinary. Simple not plain. They are different things. They taught us to appreciate sunsets, sunrise and stars. I remember when I was maybe four, he brought me to the breakwater for my birthday, then we heard Mass at Paco Church. They taught us not to be stingy in Iloveyous and hugs. We would attend the Mass together. And a birthday must strictly be celebrated by attending Mass and spending time with the family. Most of all, they taught us that the things one must must live for are definitely not those that can be bought.
Yes, I still do have misgiving about our unfinished house. But boy! I promise we will get better. It may take time but things will get better. It had been a long way from those days when we had to be away from each other and live on so little. I will someday make my Tatay's dream of visiting a foreign country come true. I will always hold my mother's hands. I will never tire of saying I love you to them each night. My grandest dream would always be to make them the happiest parents in the world.
After all we had been through, I can say that I am a very fortunate child. Blessed. Although we don't have much materially, we never had a shortage of love at home. Our maliit na dampa have always been a sanctuary, a respite in the cold days of our lives. When my heart was broken, they were all there for me in their quiet, non-invasive way. In fact, it is not about the leaky house at all, it is all about the home--my parents and siblings that have kept me warm.
Our journey as a family has taught us to be thankful at all times. It has taught us that things will get better. That money is not everything. That family is the strongest fortress. It has taught us to be kind to those in need--to give when we can because we had been on the receiving end, too. That faith in God is a parent's most important legacy. Without faith, where can one go when pushed against the wall? And that we grow not because all had been well… we grow when we go beyond our situations--to persevere at all times. Persevere. At. All. Times. (This last sentence is a reminder to you, Wei. Do not forget. Laban lang ng laban. Things will always, always change for the better.)
Thank you, Father. You have been the hand pulling us up. After all had been said, my home--my family--ultimately, have always been sheltered only by your grace.
That old house surely brings back a lot of memories. (I wonder how, as a two-year old, I can remember a lot of things as if they all happened some five years ago…) I remember its wooden flooring. The wooden steps. The old artesian well which used to stand in front of the house. The bamboo gate. I remember crying because I woke up alone in a room. I was crying my Lola's name. I remember having my picture taken in front of the then hi-tech coloured TV set sent by my lolo working in Saudi at that time. I was holding a doll and wearing a pink dress. My hair was tied in a pony tail with lots of baby bangs around my face. I remember the story where they said I wore a red dress in a visit to the aplaya and they tease that a bull will chase me because bulls hate red. They said my Lola would frequently bring me there because fresh air is good for children. I am no longer sure if the aplaya still exists. Well… this is a madly polluted, changing world.
That house has a lot of ghosts lingering in its shadows. And I am not referring only to those unseen entities my Lola Huling have seen. It has seen the wheel turn for all of us. How the lives of people who live/lived there changed. How people go old. How souls grow or waste away...
The years I was there were tumultuous years. Many years ago, when our house was razed by fire, our family had to live separate from each other to make things work. We are five children to parents who are both not children of the wealthy like Jeanne Napoles is. My mother gave birth prematurely and both my twin sisters died, one on my father's birthday. My parents and siblings lived with a neighbor; Living in a space that fits a papag for all of them, while me and my grandmother lived with her brother's family in this old house I have mentioned that housed some of my earliest memories. How hard it must have been for my mother and father… My family was sustained by the generosity of other people--a neighbor and a relative.
Going back to the old house triggered in me a surprising tsunami of nostalgia. Oh how good God has been to us! We, as a family have seen really bad times. And I honour my parents for really carrying us through. My mother is the most hard-working mother ever. In her pre-citizen card days, she would wake up at 2am to buy goods in Divisoria and wake up at 6am to tend our store in the market. When our house was burned the second time about 10 or so years ago, she really was the strong one for us. It was from her and my Lola (Ada) where I got the idea that women are not supposed to be mere damsels in distress, women are supposed to be both strong yet loving. My father, for his part, was the one who have molded me to become who I am--us to who we are. He taught me to write my name. He bought magazines--Time, Life, Asiaweek… that started up my love for reading and cultures. I remember him playing the harmonica for us and listening to Beatles, Beegees, Sheena Easton, name it… all day. Ergo, the musicality of our home.
We used to watch TV from a neighbor's window.
Little by little, we stood on our feet again. We all went to attend university. We never lacked what we need. Even assistance with homeworks. It is only lately that I realized that my father's constant concern to cook the best dishes for us. He always want us to experience the best food all the time. From this started our passion for food--both cooking it and eating it. Maybe it is because there was a time when they were not able to give them. Yet, my parents taught us to live simply and to find joy in the ordinary. Simple not plain. They are different things. They taught us to appreciate sunsets, sunrise and stars. I remember when I was maybe four, he brought me to the breakwater for my birthday, then we heard Mass at Paco Church. They taught us not to be stingy in Iloveyous and hugs. We would attend the Mass together. And a birthday must strictly be celebrated by attending Mass and spending time with the family. Most of all, they taught us that the things one must must live for are definitely not those that can be bought.
Yes, I still do have misgiving about our unfinished house. But boy! I promise we will get better. It may take time but things will get better. It had been a long way from those days when we had to be away from each other and live on so little. I will someday make my Tatay's dream of visiting a foreign country come true. I will always hold my mother's hands. I will never tire of saying I love you to them each night. My grandest dream would always be to make them the happiest parents in the world.
After all we had been through, I can say that I am a very fortunate child. Blessed. Although we don't have much materially, we never had a shortage of love at home. Our maliit na dampa have always been a sanctuary, a respite in the cold days of our lives. When my heart was broken, they were all there for me in their quiet, non-invasive way. In fact, it is not about the leaky house at all, it is all about the home--my parents and siblings that have kept me warm.
Our journey as a family has taught us to be thankful at all times. It has taught us that things will get better. That money is not everything. That family is the strongest fortress. It has taught us to be kind to those in need--to give when we can because we had been on the receiving end, too. That faith in God is a parent's most important legacy. Without faith, where can one go when pushed against the wall? And that we grow not because all had been well… we grow when we go beyond our situations--to persevere at all times. Persevere. At. All. Times. (This last sentence is a reminder to you, Wei. Do not forget. Laban lang ng laban. Things will always, always change for the better.)
Thank you, Father. You have been the hand pulling us up. After all had been said, my home--my family--ultimately, have always been sheltered only by your grace.