I miss my Lola Edding. Very much. The last time I saw her was when we finally laid her to rest in a very simple 6-foot by 4-foot grave. I was the one who gave her the final prayers and blessings being a lay minister myself.
My Lola Edding brought me up since Grade 1 until I graduated from elementary. At my very fragile age, she taught me how to live simply. Her sun-scorched hands were her only weapons to go on with life itself. She cooked some cassava and rice cakes for a living. She would brave the scorching heat of the sun in the cornfields so she could bring home a handful of corn as her share for a week's labor. She would dig deep into the loose soils of peanut farms down in the delta of Lal-lo so that she could augment more her little income from hard labor. Lola Edding practically tilled the soil, which is not even hers, so that she could have every precious centavo that we would need to continue breathing on earth.
Lola Edding filled my heart with a lot of lessons in life. She used to say that the only thing that she would be so happy for us to have would be education. She did not stop dreaming for us. I guess I occupied a very special place in her heart because I am her first grandchild. She must have been so proud of me, why with my extraordinary performance in my elementary school. Each time that I was a part of any program or special number, she was always there preparing the things I needed. She would remedy every single costume I must wear during our Garden Days where we used to have Field Demonstrations. With little money to buy my needs, she would sew the available clothes to ensure that my costume would look similar to those being worn by my classmates.
My Lola, I guess, never finished any course at all. I can still remember how she reacted one time when I asked her to buy me a protractor. "Where on earth can I ever produce money to buy a hand tractor!" she exclaimed. To our laughter!
Being young, my brother and I were always at odds even on little things. We would quarrel to our hearts' delight. Our Lola Edding can only sigh in frustration. At the height of her scoldings, she would blurt out, "Agawid kayo man laengen. Apo, pagsakduan kayo ti basol!" Then my brother and I would run to her and embrace her so tightly.
For so many years after I left her for high school in Sanchez Mira where my parents are, and after having finished college in faraway Tuguegarao, I rarely visited my Lola. I knew she missed me, too.
I was able to visit her again when I introduced my ex-girlfriend to her. That was also so many years ago. Then I brought our first K to her when he was yet a little boy. I knew her eyes were failing her. My Lola would often ask any one who converse with her to repeat what he or she was saying. My Lola Edding was growing grey hairs fast. And her sight and hearing were getting a toll on her.
I was telling myself, I hope I could still visit Lola Edding before she will bid us goodbye.
One day while I was at work, my brother called me up over my cellphone, which he usually does not do.
"Will you be coming home?" he asked.
"Why?" I answered back.
"Lola Edding is gone."
My tears rolled uncontrollably. I was speechless. My Lola Edding already left us. My wish that I should still see her alive did not come true anymore. And at that moment, all I could utter in silence was "May she rest in peace..."
I rushed back home to Camalaniugan to pay her my last respects. Upon alighting from the bus which led me to the old place where I spent my childhood with my Lola, I let go of a heavy sigh. I walked a little towards the old familar place. I was still able to see the mango trees. This time they had grown bigger and older. Their branches became so towering that they provided shade to where I was trekking.
Then I saw light bulbs. I saw the little bungalow house that served as my playground for six long years with my Lola. There she was. In white coffin lit by two yellowish bulbs. My mother was beside the coffin seated on her wheelchair. As I approached and peeped at the face of my Lola, I couldn't hold my tears rolling profusely. I cried silently while looking at her. She seemed to smile back at me perhaps knowing that I was already there. I am her first apo. I must have been her first love. I cried some more knowing that she died without all the glamour in life that others enjoyed. She only knew her backyard garden. She only knew her little beds of vegetables. She only knew her stick to guide her through the bushes around her. Her fingers and palms turned so callous digging the soil, cultivating her few rows of vegetables, gathering some twigs for cooking, and weeding out her precious garden. As I peeped at her so thin body peacefully resting inside her coffin, I wanted so much to embrace her tight for the last time and whisper to her I love her so much and I wish to thank her for all the lessons in life that she taught us and for her unconditional love for us, tears rolled some more.
Ahhh... my Lola. She lived literally poor. She died literally poor. She was not even able to see her complete grandchildren before she left.
We prayed the Rosary for her as we waited for her special Mass which we pre-arranged. Then we finally laid her to rest in her lonely grave after walking beside her coffin.
