Beloved dead

Sitting for hours in the cemetery gave me a great deal of time for recollecting. Right beside Mama Bebing’s tombstone is that of Lola Nene. When I was only 5,  my working parents used to leave me with my Lola Nene in the morning before they went to work; then they fetched me in Imus Street in the late afternoon. That was the beginning of our closeness. She visited a church everyday – Wednesday was for the Redemptorist Church; Fridays for the Santo Niño basilica; Tuesdays at Santo Rosario church;  another day for the  San Jose Recoletos. With her failing eyesight, I was her guide as we went to the churches often riding a tartanilla. I think my reading skills were developed because of the novenas that I would read to  her. Up to now I  still know: O San Antonio, pinalangga sa Diyos; Sud-onga kami bisan dili takus; taga-i kami ug dakong grasya; pangayo’g pasaylo sa among sala!  Reading  newspapers and the Free Press aloud to her and other old folks also improved my reading. She had a special devotion to Santa Lucia because of her need to intercede for improved vision. So Lola Nene had a statue of Santa Lucia made for the Mabolo Church. The family also had a small chapel, where  a Mass in honor of St. Jude was celebrated every year. As a child I was very familiar with the prayer-dance, sinulog, because Lola Nene did it herself when we visited the Niño at the basilica on Fridays.

I also often went to Carbon Market with Lola Nene. After  marketing we would end up with a stout woman who  wore a saya. She  sold  native delicacies: tagaktak, puto pinalutaw, and multi-colored puto. I got these with the colors of my choice.  Nearby was the store where  old fashioned bakya with  flower carvings were sold. I was thrilled when I could choose a pair.

We go to the Talamban cemetery for the relatives on my father’s side.

The patriarch is Manuel, Lolo Awing. His favorite was the eldest son, my father. So they say that when my parents embarked on the project of building a house, Lolo Awing chose the hardwood to be used for it. I can’t really say that I was the favorite grandchild but I can say we really had a connection. When we had a poetry social with the camia flower as our theme, we looked all over the place for camias for the program. Lola Awing took part in the search.

Because my sister had been to Davao for missionary work in Pantukan and Fr. John Walsh, from there, had been assigned to Cebu, I felt confident about doing a term paper on the Mansaka indigenous community. But I later realized that even after an extensive interview with Fr. Walsh, I had limited information and my work was wanting in substance. So I banked on Lolo Awing’s trips to Davao and an uncle and his wife who were withthe Department of Interior and Local Government. After some time, I feared not meeting the term paper deadline. But Lolo Awing calmly assured me that the data would come. And it did. The information provided me was very rich. Other students borrowed my term paper from the library because it turned out to be very good.

When my sister and I decided to live independently and rented a room in D. Jakosalem Street, Lolo Awing would pass by to check on the place and our provisions.

When Lolo Awing was ailing and dying he did not lack  caregivers and cheer-uppers because he had many grandchildren from his eight children. We enjoyed getting to meet our cousins and knowing each other better as we ministered to him.

Most beloved of all was Mama Bebing. Mama was a totally accepting person. From the beginning living with us were our cousins whose mother had died in the war; Lolo Awing’s brother Mano Sidro and Lolo’s aunt, Inday Ilyang, and Auntie Enriquieta. Later on we hosted whole families who were in transition; they were just beginning to settle down in Cebu. She also welcomed those that other relatives would have rejected. Her forgiving heart made her accept them, while her behavior surprised and even irritated the others.

Even if she was raised in a conservative family with very strict parents, Mama became a very liberal, open person. She was open to new experiences, to adventure, to all that life had to offer. Maybe this was one of the reasons why at 32 she married a widower with four children. She loved the children very much that it was awhile before I realized that they had another mother. One of them even took her family name, Miel, as her middle name. To her eldest child Mama gave the name of her husband’s first wife as second name, Divinia.

When opportunities came her way she made the most of them. When I was in high school, she studied in UP Manila to finish a master’s degree in public health. She always managed to find the books that I would request from her.

Then the Department of Health sent her to Australia, New Zealand and the US. In Australia, she took the trouble of visiting an asthma clinic because this could help me. From there she wrote me a long letter which came with a book, and breathing paraphernalia. The letter contained instructions which would make me transcend the asthma.

When she was dying of cancer and the hospital staff mentioned that they had difficulty locating her blood vessel and that they might just cut her up, I argued and asked for somebody brighter or more intelligent who would succeed. After the better person did manage to locate the blood vessel, she called my attention and said: How will the inexperienced learn, if we don’t give them a chance?

I am very grateful that I can draw strength, security, and comfort from all the affection of these beloved dead. Truly love is stronger than death.