Today is All Souls' Day.
And I remember all those who have left this world ahead. As a young boy, I can only remember the wake of my beloved Lolo Maximino. There were so many people who came. Perhaps because during the War (WWII), he was then the Kapitan in their barangay in Catayauan, a sleepy barangay of Lal-lo in Cagayan. Lots of faces I hardly could even recognize and remember now came. And I was one of their favorite among the grandchildren. Why, because I am the eldest of their only son among the nine children of Lolo and Lola Luming. I was perhaps around 5 years old only at that time. I knew we finally laid him down to rest in a public cemetery located on a side of a hill. He was placed six feet under the soil.
To my vivid recollections, next was this uncle of mine who died due to too much alcohol. Everyday, I could not remember a single day that he was not intoxicated. My aunt (his wife) used to nag him about his vice, but to no avail. There were even moments when he would mix tap water into some denatured alcohol then gulp the solution thinking it was safe to drink. Little did he know that methyl alcohol is toxic to the body. Nonetheless, he savored it with gusto! His body eventually succumbed to liver and renal failure. Much like when my Lolo died, so many people attended his wake. Goodness gracious! I could not recall his name now!
Then several years after, My Lola Luming (Iluminada) finally joined Lolo Maximino in his grave. Lola Luming was so fond of me. She must have loved me so much. Dante, my brother, might have felt the same, too. Our Lola Luming used to joke around that Dan looked like our Lolo. Lola was so thin and frail before she left. But despite her age and frail body, she would wake up too early in the morning, go to her wood-fed kalan, pour some water into her favorite takuri, then concoct her best tasting coffee or chocolate drink. She would boil rice so early in the morning that before everybody would ever wake up, the rice would already be cold. But she loved doing it that way. All for her grandchildren. All for us. She was so skinny that I used to pinch her skinfolds then pull them away. Whoa! I could practically separate her thin, white skin from her few strands of muscles left on her bony structure. She flashes her best smiles each time that I could bring to her anything as pasalubong or even just a little amount. Many say she died not because of old age but because some magicians made a spell on her which she suffered from for so many years. And I miss her so much now...
Another Lola died when I was already working away from my home province. Lola Etrang (Petra) succumbed to heart failure and other sickness. Lola Etrang was a cousin to my Lola Luming. This grandma was the most endowed among my closest lolas. She was a pensioner receiving dollars every single month. Her husband, whom I never met because he died before I was born, used to work in the US. All I learned was that he died due to dog bite. He fell ill because of rabies. When my parents informed me of my Lola Etrang's demise, I immediately rushed back home. When I alighted from the bus, the house was well-lit. As I entered and took a peep at my Lola, I can't hold my tears back. They just rolled as I sobbed silently. This Lola of mine always gave us the best. Each time that we would go to Catayauan, my family would always stay in the house of this Lola. Tatang and Nanang would always see to it that we would go there. She would prepare the best food. She would bring out her treasured china and silver. And we feast.
My cousin, Joey, died of a vehicular accident. He was sideswiped while he was I guess seated along the banks of the national highway. They informed me of his demise but I could not manage to go home and pay him my last respects. But I prayed for his soul that he may find his place in heaven.
Joey's mother, my Auntie Filing, read Eustaquia, a sister of my Tatang, left this world also some years back. I was not even able to attend her wake anymore because of work. But like Joey, I enrolled her in perpetual masses for the dead. It was the best gift I could give her. His husband , Uncle Iniong (Irineo), died several years earlier. He was chopped to death and scattered his body parts along a creek in the rice fields of Catayauan. His recovered body parts showed burnt parts. We suspected the perpetrators of the crime broiled some of his chopped body parts and perhaps cannibalized them. Up to now, the criminals are unknown. A crime unresolved. Good thing, my cousins laid their anger to rest. It was a very gruesome death for my uncle who was also very fond of me. He farmed. He fished. And he would give us his best catch everytime that we were there. The family would call for us for a meal when there's some good fish they wanted to share. And I loved every bit of it.
Just almost a year after my ex-girlfriend gave birth to our second K, her Daddy Felix died. I knew it must have been a struggle for him gasping for the last breath. Daddy smoked like the days are numbered. Perhaps he also wanted to get rid of it but to no avail. Then he quit. It was an abrupt decision that he made. For a while, his body looked so healthy and strong. But the damage in his lungs was irreversible. With my almost ten years of knowing him, I felt he loved so much my ex-girlfriend. Whenever we would go home to Amulung, he saw to it that we had the best. He offered the best food. He gave us the best service. He looked up to us with all great respect and dignity. He loved us so much. He loved me. He was happy for our first K. He gave us always the best priorities which I haven't noticed on some of his in-laws. I felt so special to him. When he died, we all went home to pay our last respects and pray for his soul. He must have been very tired. He lived quite a life at 72. He raised 9 children. Followed by several apo. Whenever it was reunion time every Christmas and New Year, he was the happiest. But he only looked at us all from a distance. He enjoyed his solitude looking at everybody from afar. He would go to the backyard and chopped some firewoods. He cooked nice and delicious foods. He did not seek to be served. He served. He did not ask for special attention in his old age. He gave us the attention. He was simple and warm. Loving. Forgiving. Patient. Virtuous. Humble. A former grade school principal, he was able to stretch his understanding on everyone. He was a man of few words. I felt he had known me much. And I felt his love. And I loved him so much, too. Even after some years of his leaving us, I still remember him in the Masses I serve. It was my way of showing him how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. Life became a lot easier to carry through because of his inspiration. He showed me the way.
My long lost cousin, who disappeared for so many years and we thought he already died, all of a sudden came back to Catayauan. Perhaps for good. He did not show himself up for more than 20 years, I guess. During those first few years that he did not even communicate with any of us, we thought he was dead. There were even masses which we offered for him. Lo and behold, after more than 20 years, he was back. Thin, bloated tummy, Manong Romy (Romeo) was the same person I knew of before he disappeared. With the love of his life, like my uncle who died of alcohol, every single night he would gulp several bottles of Ginebra. But he was not the bully type. When intoxicated, he sings. He laughs. He jokes around. He blurts out some heartaches. Manong Romy stayed with us in Sanchez Mira when I was in high school. He was the first among many of my cousins that Tatang and Nanang gave education 'til college. All they could offer us back was household help. They would help us raise chickens or pigs. They would help my Tatang in his orchard of citrus as part of the plantations he was in-charge of inside the campus of a state university. Whatever we had, they had. Manong Romy was the eldest in the house. Of course, everything was Manong Romy. Please prepare me some milk. Please hand me my toy. Please, let me join you where you're going. Please do me a favor. Everything was Manong Romy. But he began his saga with alcohol when he was already gaining so many friends and barkada among his classmates. When he died, I was not able to go to his wake. To my regret. But I was able to see him and talk to him when I visited Catayauan one time. That was the first and the last. All he asked of me was a little amount for his love - Ginebra. I guess, Ginebra should pay him a tribute for being a loyal patron. When I learned that he was ill and it seemed like nobody was paying attention to his condition and he died because of illness, I was thinking he could have been alive up to this day had he been brought to the hospital. Rumors reached me that Manong Romy was telling he was weak and that he needed some medical attention. But his pleas were simply dismissed as mere symptoms of ordinary flu or because he lacked alcohol. Tsk, tsk, tsk. It was pitiful. His body succumbed to sickness which was not even identified anymore. My consolation is that he died back home. He went back home. Only to stay there for just a few more months.
Then it was the turn of my Lola Edding (Adriana Matilde). It devastated me. He raised me up for six years. Six fragile years of my life. I was a little boy still beginning to learn about living. My Lola Edding was not a well-to-do Lola. He was poor. Literally poor. And she died poorly. My heart wanted to burst when I learned of her demise. When I was in her wake, I couldn't help regretting why I wasn't able to find time to visit her often. And my tears would roll. But I was happy. She died while I am a Lay Minister of the Holy Communion. I was able to give her some last rites for the dead. Up to where we laid her down to rest. I loved Lola Edding so much. No one among my Lolas comes close. She gave her all. She sacrificed for us. She dedicated herself to us. She loved us. See my separate entry in this blog entitled Remembering Lola Edding...
There were several others who have left this world whose names I hardly could recall. But they left impacts on me. There was Lolo Duarding (remember General Eduardo Batalla, the one under siege in Mindanao by the notorious Rizal Alih?). Lolo Duarding was a relative of my Lola Edding, the mother of my Nanang. I was yet in college when the hostage drama caught the nation by surprise. I was glued to the radio, waiting for the latest development. I was enraged when I learned over the radio that he was finally gunned down by the rebels. Today, the name of General Batalla has been immortalized. Our former barangay of Gango in Camalaniugan was renamed to General Batalla, in his memory.
GTG to Church.
And I remember all those who have left this world ahead. As a young boy, I can only remember the wake of my beloved Lolo Maximino. There were so many people who came. Perhaps because during the War (WWII), he was then the Kapitan in their barangay in Catayauan, a sleepy barangay of Lal-lo in Cagayan. Lots of faces I hardly could even recognize and remember now came. And I was one of their favorite among the grandchildren. Why, because I am the eldest of their only son among the nine children of Lolo and Lola Luming. I was perhaps around 5 years old only at that time. I knew we finally laid him down to rest in a public cemetery located on a side of a hill. He was placed six feet under the soil.
To my vivid recollections, next was this uncle of mine who died due to too much alcohol. Everyday, I could not remember a single day that he was not intoxicated. My aunt (his wife) used to nag him about his vice, but to no avail. There were even moments when he would mix tap water into some denatured alcohol then gulp the solution thinking it was safe to drink. Little did he know that methyl alcohol is toxic to the body. Nonetheless, he savored it with gusto! His body eventually succumbed to liver and renal failure. Much like when my Lolo died, so many people attended his wake. Goodness gracious! I could not recall his name now!
Then several years after, My Lola Luming (Iluminada) finally joined Lolo Maximino in his grave. Lola Luming was so fond of me. She must have loved me so much. Dante, my brother, might have felt the same, too. Our Lola Luming used to joke around that Dan looked like our Lolo. Lola was so thin and frail before she left. But despite her age and frail body, she would wake up too early in the morning, go to her wood-fed kalan, pour some water into her favorite takuri, then concoct her best tasting coffee or chocolate drink. She would boil rice so early in the morning that before everybody would ever wake up, the rice would already be cold. But she loved doing it that way. All for her grandchildren. All for us. She was so skinny that I used to pinch her skinfolds then pull them away. Whoa! I could practically separate her thin, white skin from her few strands of muscles left on her bony structure. She flashes her best smiles each time that I could bring to her anything as pasalubong or even just a little amount. Many say she died not because of old age but because some magicians made a spell on her which she suffered from for so many years. And I miss her so much now...
Another Lola died when I was already working away from my home province. Lola Etrang (Petra) succumbed to heart failure and other sickness. Lola Etrang was a cousin to my Lola Luming. This grandma was the most endowed among my closest lolas. She was a pensioner receiving dollars every single month. Her husband, whom I never met because he died before I was born, used to work in the US. All I learned was that he died due to dog bite. He fell ill because of rabies. When my parents informed me of my Lola Etrang's demise, I immediately rushed back home. When I alighted from the bus, the house was well-lit. As I entered and took a peep at my Lola, I can't hold my tears back. They just rolled as I sobbed silently. This Lola of mine always gave us the best. Each time that we would go to Catayauan, my family would always stay in the house of this Lola. Tatang and Nanang would always see to it that we would go there. She would prepare the best food. She would bring out her treasured china and silver. And we feast.
My cousin, Joey, died of a vehicular accident. He was sideswiped while he was I guess seated along the banks of the national highway. They informed me of his demise but I could not manage to go home and pay him my last respects. But I prayed for his soul that he may find his place in heaven.
Joey's mother, my Auntie Filing, read Eustaquia, a sister of my Tatang, left this world also some years back. I was not even able to attend her wake anymore because of work. But like Joey, I enrolled her in perpetual masses for the dead. It was the best gift I could give her. His husband , Uncle Iniong (Irineo), died several years earlier. He was chopped to death and scattered his body parts along a creek in the rice fields of Catayauan. His recovered body parts showed burnt parts. We suspected the perpetrators of the crime broiled some of his chopped body parts and perhaps cannibalized them. Up to now, the criminals are unknown. A crime unresolved. Good thing, my cousins laid their anger to rest. It was a very gruesome death for my uncle who was also very fond of me. He farmed. He fished. And he would give us his best catch everytime that we were there. The family would call for us for a meal when there's some good fish they wanted to share. And I loved every bit of it.
Just almost a year after my ex-girlfriend gave birth to our second K, her Daddy Felix died. I knew it must have been a struggle for him gasping for the last breath. Daddy smoked like the days are numbered. Perhaps he also wanted to get rid of it but to no avail. Then he quit. It was an abrupt decision that he made. For a while, his body looked so healthy and strong. But the damage in his lungs was irreversible. With my almost ten years of knowing him, I felt he loved so much my ex-girlfriend. Whenever we would go home to Amulung, he saw to it that we had the best. He offered the best food. He gave us the best service. He looked up to us with all great respect and dignity. He loved us so much. He loved me. He was happy for our first K. He gave us always the best priorities which I haven't noticed on some of his in-laws. I felt so special to him. When he died, we all went home to pay our last respects and pray for his soul. He must have been very tired. He lived quite a life at 72. He raised 9 children. Followed by several apo. Whenever it was reunion time every Christmas and New Year, he was the happiest. But he only looked at us all from a distance. He enjoyed his solitude looking at everybody from afar. He would go to the backyard and chopped some firewoods. He cooked nice and delicious foods. He did not seek to be served. He served. He did not ask for special attention in his old age. He gave us the attention. He was simple and warm. Loving. Forgiving. Patient. Virtuous. Humble. A former grade school principal, he was able to stretch his understanding on everyone. He was a man of few words. I felt he had known me much. And I felt his love. And I loved him so much, too. Even after some years of his leaving us, I still remember him in the Masses I serve. It was my way of showing him how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. Life became a lot easier to carry through because of his inspiration. He showed me the way.
My long lost cousin, who disappeared for so many years and we thought he already died, all of a sudden came back to Catayauan. Perhaps for good. He did not show himself up for more than 20 years, I guess. During those first few years that he did not even communicate with any of us, we thought he was dead. There were even masses which we offered for him. Lo and behold, after more than 20 years, he was back. Thin, bloated tummy, Manong Romy (Romeo) was the same person I knew of before he disappeared. With the love of his life, like my uncle who died of alcohol, every single night he would gulp several bottles of Ginebra. But he was not the bully type. When intoxicated, he sings. He laughs. He jokes around. He blurts out some heartaches. Manong Romy stayed with us in Sanchez Mira when I was in high school. He was the first among many of my cousins that Tatang and Nanang gave education 'til college. All they could offer us back was household help. They would help us raise chickens or pigs. They would help my Tatang in his orchard of citrus as part of the plantations he was in-charge of inside the campus of a state university. Whatever we had, they had. Manong Romy was the eldest in the house. Of course, everything was Manong Romy. Please prepare me some milk. Please hand me my toy. Please, let me join you where you're going. Please do me a favor. Everything was Manong Romy. But he began his saga with alcohol when he was already gaining so many friends and barkada among his classmates. When he died, I was not able to go to his wake. To my regret. But I was able to see him and talk to him when I visited Catayauan one time. That was the first and the last. All he asked of me was a little amount for his love - Ginebra. I guess, Ginebra should pay him a tribute for being a loyal patron. When I learned that he was ill and it seemed like nobody was paying attention to his condition and he died because of illness, I was thinking he could have been alive up to this day had he been brought to the hospital. Rumors reached me that Manong Romy was telling he was weak and that he needed some medical attention. But his pleas were simply dismissed as mere symptoms of ordinary flu or because he lacked alcohol. Tsk, tsk, tsk. It was pitiful. His body succumbed to sickness which was not even identified anymore. My consolation is that he died back home. He went back home. Only to stay there for just a few more months.
Then it was the turn of my Lola Edding (Adriana Matilde). It devastated me. He raised me up for six years. Six fragile years of my life. I was a little boy still beginning to learn about living. My Lola Edding was not a well-to-do Lola. He was poor. Literally poor. And she died poorly. My heart wanted to burst when I learned of her demise. When I was in her wake, I couldn't help regretting why I wasn't able to find time to visit her often. And my tears would roll. But I was happy. She died while I am a Lay Minister of the Holy Communion. I was able to give her some last rites for the dead. Up to where we laid her down to rest. I loved Lola Edding so much. No one among my Lolas comes close. She gave her all. She sacrificed for us. She dedicated herself to us. She loved us. See my separate entry in this blog entitled Remembering Lola Edding...
There were several others who have left this world whose names I hardly could recall. But they left impacts on me. There was Lolo Duarding (remember General Eduardo Batalla, the one under siege in Mindanao by the notorious Rizal Alih?). Lolo Duarding was a relative of my Lola Edding, the mother of my Nanang. I was yet in college when the hostage drama caught the nation by surprise. I was glued to the radio, waiting for the latest development. I was enraged when I learned over the radio that he was finally gunned down by the rebels. Today, the name of General Batalla has been immortalized. Our former barangay of Gango in Camalaniugan was renamed to General Batalla, in his memory.
GTG to Church.
