I'll remember this house mostly for funerals; both my grandparents had their wakes here. I was nine when my grandmother died in April 1994, my first brush with death. We spent the entire summer here that year, waiting for Mama's 40th day, which was sometime in mid-May. In between the burial and that 40th day, we spent our days sifting through my grandparents' old stuff -- Mama and Papa were both teachers and they had a lot of books, and as Papa was a PE custodian, he also had a lot of sports stuff. I remember finding a really old, hardbound book on Mythology and taking it to Manila with me. That was when I first fell in love with mythology.
In the afternoons, we played syato with the neighbors and tried to understand each other, differences in dialects notwithstanding. I remember getting sick - I always got sick during the summer then, an attack of asthma here every so often, and having to deal with it sans nebulizer, which was hard because my asthma attacks back then were HORRIBLE. Some days we went to a river behind the house, walking past grassy fields while saying "tabi po." The river was cold and the rocks were sharp but mostly I am thankful to have been able to experience something like that -- sometimes I wonder if ten-year-olds these days would still be able to. It was so quiet then -- no one owned a cell phone or a computer, for that matter. In 1994 there was no Internet -- no Twitter, no Facebook, though I would have loved to Twitpic something like, "Taking a bath at the Salug." LOL.
What amazes me is that we managed to keep still for FORTY DAYS. Our mother and father both had to go back to Manila to work and they came back in time for the 40th but they left us there LOL. My sister was 6 at the time, and one time she told us about how she dreamt of Mama taking her somewhere. The oldies thought she was going to show Krista some treasure or something, LOL. Did you ever remember what it was, Krista?
In April 1994, Jake and Brent (those huge assed 16-year-olds in the previous post) were only a few months old -- Jake was born in January and Brent, that February. Mama had just been to Manila to see her new grandchildren. We've always wondered if things would've turned out the same, had she stayed longer. Papa said she died in her sleep, and that she had a smile on her face.
Their graduation pictures still hang in their old room. It was the same room where we used to sleep in back then. Going back there, I wondered how we all fit here -- and then I remembered how we were all once very small children. I have a hard time imagining Krista, Mark and Brent and I fitting in a single bed *now* but back then, that was exactly how it worked.
When my grandfather died in 2002, it was also April; as you can see, they almost died on the same date. He was in Bohol when he died. That summer we visited him in Tapal, also to mark Mama's eighth-year death anniversary there. We were on our way home - me, Krista, Wy (who was eight), auntie and Dad - and we were already in Cebu when the call came. Papa had not woken up that morning. We packed our bags and rushed back to Bohol and brought his body back to Jaro and buried him beside his wife. See, before Ninoy and Cory Aquino, there was this.
Also, yes that is Color it Red on the tombstone. I may or may not have had something to do with it being there. LOL.
Fact: That Jesus Christ statue used to be in our altar in Cavite. I was surprised to actually find it here; it felt like it never left the house anyway.
Here, have a photo of us camwhoring in my grandparents' mausoleum:
We visited a few relatives around Jaro and ate in each of the houses. It's great to be Filipino and amidst relatives. Hehe. We also visited Nanay Mansing, wife of one of Mama's brothers, therefore auntie's aunt. She was one of the greatest cooks I have ever known and I remember how in both my grandparents' padasal days she'd cook for the guests. It was awesome. She's 80plus-plus now, her sight faltering a bit, but I'm glad to have been able to get to her house in 2010 and see her alive and hold her hand.
Also, same house that had a basketball court!
I swear there used to be a time when all I wanted was a house with an open lawn that my father could build a half-court on. Sigh. So yeah, we played 21 - me, Brent, Mark and Bea. Brent's in the basketball team but he's what, 6-foot tall and can't shoot freethrows LOL so naturally I finished first, Brent next. Bea, who's actually pretty gifted herself, finished ahead of her older brother Mark, who's around 6 feet himself. LOL FOREVER. To be fair to Mark, basketball was never really his sport -- we used to fight a lot when we were younger on account that I ALWAYS USED TO BATTER HIM IN A BALL GAME LOL. He used to tell Auntie I threw an elbow at him and Auntie would almost always tell me off. ("Don't go hurting your cousin now." - LOL we were seven and nine? About there.)
So yeah, for old times' sake we played under the heat of the sun. I was sweaty and smelly when I got to the airport that afternoon - our flight was at 4 p.m. - but all in all it was a rather complete vacation. Here have a complete photo of us at the lobby that morning:
It may take years again before we're here again like this; it's always a nice thought to think about and look forward to.
No comments:
Post a Comment