It's June 10, Wednesday. 11:30 in the evening.
I am writing this inside my grandmother's dimly lit hospital room. The nurse has just brought in a bag of blood for her blood transfusion and while I'm typing this, I struggle with my goosebumps as I try not to look at the bag which now looks like a giant squid with only two tentacles. The summer vacation which bluntly ended last week with my disaster class grants and my hasty departure for Manila due to enrollment issues has been given a new lease of exactly a week (no) thanks to a global health issue simply labelled as A(H1N1).
This, I suppose, has given me an additional opportunity to look back and acknowledge how different and, in the words of my Tita Vilma, how diverse, the summer of 2009 has been for me. Who thought that a lot of things could happen in a span of a little over two months and I did not need to fly out of the country, soak myself in some foreign sun and eat something alien to my gastrointestinal tract just to make this summer memorable, unforgettable and, of course, sentimentally significant. I will devote this entry to make the events of recent months as vivid as the rains which kept the days drenched in a bid to work my way around the erstwhile traitor that is memory. After all, the summer of 2009 had a healthy and proportional mix of both fun and serious matters which kept me straddling that thin line between helium balloons and the bricks of inevitability.
1. Summer, sickness and role reversal
There was absolutely one reason why I had to go back to my coastal city home for the summer: to take care of my ailing grandfather. As I had written in my previous blog entries, my grandfather has been paralyzed from the waist down due to total nerve compression. He cannot get up on his own and needs to be turned every 2 hours or so and he frequently experiences excruciating pain along his lower back.
A case of complicated UTI compounds his health problems along with other ailments concerning his lungs, his liver and his heart.
What makes his situation more heartbreaking is the fact that he is still very much alert but his physical body serves to confine him to his bed. In his so-called "good days," he tries to maintain some semblance of normalcy by still going to his office and personally attends to a lot of work-related problems.
The entire summer saw me practically living in the hospital as my grandfather was wheeled in and out of admission with a certain degree of frequency that he eventually earned the monicker "balikbayan" among the nurses and staff. To add a more interesting angle to our hospital stay, my grandmother was also hospitalized within a week after my arrival due to pneumonia. She was allowed to share a room with my grandfather and she often walked around the room while dragging her IV tubes after her like a steel-and-plastic Christmas tree.
As if having two patients was not enough to give me a crash course on practical nursing, my own mother was hospitalized a few weeks after my grandmother got better! She had severe abdominal pain due to obstruction which in turn was attributed to intestinal adhesions. It got so bad to the point that her consulting physicians (a.k.a. my dad and his doctor-friend) were contemplating surgery. Everyday for about a week, I had to traverse ten rooms just to check on my grandfather and walk all the way back to my mother (who was curled like a ball in her bed due to severe abdominal pain) to give her a quick report on how he was doing.
The summer went by like a routine but we did our best to make the days a little cheerier. Who knew that white could be such a drab color? During instances when our patients would be napping, we would catch a couple of Pinoy flicks or other English titles that I missed. Every so often, my sister and I would go for a quick break by going out of the hospital to commit the greatest form of gastronomic sacrilege in the history of fast food - washing down Jollibee french fries with a McDonald's Coke float. Of course, my karma came in the form of a noted increase in the size of my thighs. I also met a deluge of wonderful people who had the gentlest of hearts and the brightest of smiles (such as a wonderful person named Lani from rehab who is my grandfather's therapist and this nurse whose name I forget who paid extra attention to my mother when she was in pain).
However there is ont really good thing about this summer that saw the reign of the antiseptic. I got to be part of a great rigodon of roles in my family. My grandparents and my mother had spent a significant portion of their lives taking care of me and fretting over me when I got sick and now it was time to switch seats. This time, it was our turn to give back after many years of simply receiving. Most days were difficult, especially when you find yourself sitting beside helplessness as you watch a face contort in pain. For my part, I found that there was a profound sense of joy and fulfillment in keeping watch over someone who used to keep an eye out for me and a infusion of courage and wisdom in knowing that despite the presence of pain and difficulty, there is a beautiful rainbow to look forward to.
2. American Idol Upset
This season, I was really, really, really rooting for Danny Gokey with a lunacy beyond that of a normal 25-year old. I was so upset over his failure to make it to the finals that I didn't watch the elimination results show (I had gotten wind of the bad news earlier in the day thanks to a friend) and I made my way through the rest of the day in a daze. The finale night was a bit anti-climactic but Kris gave Adam a good whallop. Kris Allen's victory over the flamboyant Adam Lambert was a shocker but overall, it was the best results show I had ever seen from one of the most talented batches in the show's history. Now I'll just sit pretty and wait patiently for Danny and Allison Iraheta's solo albums.
3. Betty's First Birthday
I was so excited when I found out my best friend Doi's daughter Sariah Beatriz was turning a year old. After all, Betty was the first baby to be born within my circle of closest friends and I had always known that Doi was ecstatic about being a mother. Betty is growing up to be an intelligent, curious and precocious little girl with the best comedic timing for a toddler. I sure cannot wait to see where life will take her - and her proud parents too.
4. Encore for the Ballerina
About ten years ago, my sister was deadset on pursuing a career as a professional ballet dancer until she realized it was not the best path for her to take. When she decided to stop dancing, I felt as if I lived in a totally different world. After all, my sister had been dancing ever since she was five and the sudden disappearance of smelly toe shoes, rolls of Leukoplast, gel bottles, Spraynet canisters, holey tights and old Tchaikovsky CDs took some time to get used to.
However, several doors have been reopened for her to enter the world of dance once more. For instance, this summer she had been hoping for a much quieter existence but after an invitation to join her former ballet teacher's summer dance recital was afforded to her, she immediately accepted it. After all, it was a chance for her not just to do something which she has always wanted to do but it was also a new opportunity to renew ties with close friends, a couple of which have gone on to pursue careers as dancers with Ballet Philippines and Ballet Manila.
Watching her do her trademark turns on that stage was like a breath of fresh air. My sister's love for dancing has a raw intensity which is rarely found in a lot of dancers. I know parting from her toe shoes was a major heartbreak as she lived, slept, ate and walked in the world of pirouettes, grand jetaes, arabesques, pas de deuxs and other fancy French words. She had a love-hate relationship with dancing. She revelled in the artistic fulfillment and the applause but struggled with many things - her weight, her so-called "bad feet," numerous injuries and her self-esteem which she had lost many times but she has thankfully regained through time. When she is on that stage, there is a ferocity at the edge of her smile and a happiness that is unmistakeably clear. I am glad that at this point in her life, she has been given a new lease in her chosen craft with a deeper, more profound reason for making those splits in mid-air: her faith.
5. Book dates
I decided that this summer was going to be the time for my dates with my favorite writers. I had originally scheduled reading about two to three books a week, a goal which I never followed because of my hospital duties. During the entire course of the summer, I only managed to read a measly four books, one of which was a repeat. I did get to finish Audrey Niffenegger's "The Time Traveller's Wife" which I thoroughly enjoyed because of its direct but intricate prose. I also read "Angels and Demons" by Dan Brown just so I could watch the movie without committing the common mortal sin of book-to-movie projects. I'd say I enjoyed this book far better than "The Da Vinci Code" (which I read in secret during one of my MS classes) because of an interest in the works of Bernini and Galileo (and Milton too!) which figured prominently in the book. I also did my nth revisit of "Pride and Prejudice" which is my favorite Austen work, no matter that my professed fascination for the novel has made my friend Edmund conclude that I, indeed, am a girl. No summer would be complete without a date with Nicholas Sparks which I did through "The Lucky One." The novel was trademark Sparks, nothing fancy or different but still heart-tugging. I did get a kick out of imagining Adrien Brody as Logan and Amy Adams as Beth, the main protagonists, even if the book descriptions did not match any of them with precision.
Right now, I am in the middle of Jodi Picoult's "Change of Heart" which I found to be thoroughly interesting (as always with anything by the author) but the rest of my summer days were filled with other important things as well, so I had to part ways with the sheets of paper just for a while.
6. Getting the perfect summer tan
Of course, being a severe lover of water, summer means hitting the waves and getting pruny while baking my skin to a crisp. Despite the hospital shifts, I did manage to squeeze in a bunch of trips to the beach. During the long Labor Day weekend, I joined Ate Carol, Iting, Ross, Kuya Stan and Mark in Boracay. The rains were torrential and made the 6-hour bus ride to Caticlan dreary. Snorkelling was a challenge since I felt like a cork bobbing helplessly in the water and it did not help that my life jacket's styro packs were getting dislocated, no thanks to the huge waves. When we got out of the water, Kuya Stan even told me he was going to sell his "uber slightly used snorkel." Sitting on the boat when we went island hopping felt like being on board a more subdued thrill ride as our boat crashed into the waves every so often. I tried parasailing for the first time with Ate Carol and it felt wonderfully relaxing as I floated along, sandwiched between the sapphire sea and the blue sky. The bumpy speedboat ride though to get to the parasailing spot stress tested my inner balance (and my derriere's capacity to absorb direct impact) and I found myself on the verge of motion sickness which I rarely experience. In this Boracay visit, I also found a lot of satisfaction when I was not in the water thanks to my early morning walk alone on the beach and another early morning trek to Boracay's highest point with Ate Carol, Iting and Mark.
For a quick beach fix within the confines of the city, another destination was Anhawan Resort in Oton. The sand was nowhere as fine as Boracay or the water as blue but it still was the perfect place to relax and unwind. As a matter of fact, Manang Gracious and I found it to be the perfect spot to take some snaps.
7. Visitors and tour guides
This summer, we welcomed a bunch of visitors into our home. Early on, my sister's friend Maricor had dropped by for a quick visit. I enjoyed having her around since she is as crazy as my sister and has the same adventurous streak too. Even if she technically does not fall under the category of a visitor, I was glad that Manang Apple was also home for a couple of months.
Faye, a friend from GCF in Ortigas, was also in town for a teaching stint. After a number of postponements, we finally did get to meet up and I thoroughly enjoyed being some sort of a tour guide for her. She told me she had not been to a lot of places around the city so I decided to take her some place outside of the city for lunch. We had our meal in my current favorite food joint - Allan's in Oton. It turns out that Faye loves oysters (and seafood!) as much as I do so I ordered two plates of Allan's trademark baked oysters (one for each of us) along with fish and squid. Oh boy, did we wipe our plates clean!
I also discovered that Faye had a flair for architecture and in my part of the world, we had our fair share of old churches, Spanish-era houses and other interesting buildings. I took Faye to St. Anne's Church in Molo, the sinamay dealer's house in Arevalo, Nelly Garden and the other homes owned by the Lopezes along Luna Street and Central Philippine University where we had an interesting picture taken near the University Church by mounting Faye's camera on two monobloc chairs stacked on top of each other. I tried my best to play the part of Faye's tour guide, offering bits and pieces of information which (hopefully) only a local would know. If only we had more time, I would have wanted to bring her to the Jaro Cathedral, San Jose Church, Downtown, Fort San Pedro and the beautiful stone churches in Miag-ao and Tigbauan. That made me realize that there were actually a lot of things which visitors would find interesting about my home city and I thought I should set aside some time to reacquaint myself with a place I may have given inadequate attention to.
By the end of May, my family and I shared our home with someone we had not seen in eight long years - my cousin James from Houston. I've seen him in four different instances in his life: as a three-year old with (in his words) a temper, as a hyperactive ten-year old when I visited Texas, as a lanky fourteen-year old piano whiz and now, a 22-year old college graduate. James has grown so much through the years, both in terms of height and maturity, but he still retains so many traits which make him endearing. His sense of humor has remained intact and he still cracks the craziest (and most sarcastic) of jokes. He is great with conversations (which could stretch until way past 2 A.M.) and is very honest and straightforward. He has yet to prove that he is indeed a "dog whisperer" but he has sure made a convert out of me as far as the TV show "The Office" is concerned. All in all, I sure enjoyed having a "younger brother" around.
8. Love in the month of May
After eleven years of being together, my cousin Nene Loida and her boyfriend Manong George were finally married! Whew, I couldn't believe they had been together that long! Her wedding was originally scheduled around August but because of my grandfather's condition, the ceremony was moved to May. She asked me to be a candle sponsor and I had to go on a crash diet in order to fit into a gown I wore eight years ago. Within less than two weeks, I quit the diet and instead asked a seamstress to transform the gown into a corset so that I could adjust it according to my current size.
The wedding was intimate but there was enough room for spontaneity to become the perfect family affair. The wedding reception ended with the members of the entourage hitting the dance floor with our own version of "Jai Ho" and as I watched my newest cousin-in-law twirl Nene Loida around, I truly felt happy that she had found the person she was to spend the rest of her life with.
Love and all its intricacies is truly a lesson that one learns through time. "I love you" is not an expression to be thrown around casually as the word signifies more than just emotion but a deep-seated passion for the best to be brought out of every person who comes within contact and for complete acceptance to be a natural consequence. Inasmuch as love is a word pregnant with immense sacrifice and responsibility, it is interesting to note that it usually starts with nothing grandiose - a glance here, a smile there, a quiet conversation in the silence of the night - all in the most unexpected of places or situations. Thus getting to know the other person is actually an adventure in itself already. Only time can tell where everything is headed but sometimes, even if the story has yet to reach its ending, the journey itself is beautiful enough to be retold, the memory is special enough to be revisited and the lessons learned are too precious to be forgotten.
This may be my girly side rearing her head again but in the name of pink unicorns, I do hope for a happy ending everytime.
9. Revisiting Mangatarem
James and I went on a road trip with Tita Vilma and Tito Danny to the hometown of our respective parents. It was one thing to go back to a place which holds a significant part of my identity. It is another thing to take that trip back with one person who has never been there before.
I was surprised to know that James had never been to Mangatarem before. For my part, I don't get to visit my father's hometown very often but I had accumulated a significant amount of memories from the place - flying my first kite there at age three, playing with plastic teacups in the front yard, dangling from a tree branch in the front yard, sitting beside my Mamang and watching her unbraid her long hair, attending Simbang Gabi with my entire family for my Papang's 90th birthday and falling asleep half the time because I couldn't understand a shred of Pangasinan. The minute I entered their house in Torres Bugallon with half a Calasiao puto still in my mouth, I could hear Papang singing "Pilipinas Kong Mahal" and my grandmother reciting "O Captain, My Captain." Their scent lingered about the house and even if I didn't spend a huge fraction of my life here, I still felt like this place was home. I took James to the second floor where he saw his mom's graduation picture along with our other aunts and uncles.
Standing before my grandparents' graves, I wondered what they'd tell me and James if they had the chance to talk to us. I'd want to know what they thought of us now that we were no longer children, now that we were trying to find our own respective places in this planet. I would want to know if they would be proud of what we have become because I am truly proud to be called their granddaughter.
10. Faith
Before proceeding to Mangatarem, we first dropped by Manaoag for James to start with his novena. I took in the quietness of the church and started to pray as I sat beside Tita Vilma. When I was done, I looked around and saw people on their knees with prayer booklets, rosaries, candles. Their eyes were closed, their hands were clasped. I can only surmise as to what went through their minds at that moment but there was one thing I was certain of: people cling to their faith in times when the sky is overcast.
Overall, the past couple of months have been a test of faith for me and my family. I practically have dog-eared the page of my Bible which contains Romans 8:28. The Lord works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. In the moments of laughter and the sunniest of days, God has been so good. In the midst of the difficulty, the frustration, the grief and the disappointment, God is still good. It is a truth which I have come to comprehend with greater understanding in the past couple of months. I have faith in God's goodness, in God's promises and in God's nature. He is good all the time and every time, through rainclouds or sunshine, through the days of light and night, through the moments when the snow comes in spring and the rains come in summer.
I am writing this inside my grandmother's dimly lit hospital room. The nurse has just brought in a bag of blood for her blood transfusion and while I'm typing this, I struggle with my goosebumps as I try not to look at the bag which now looks like a giant squid with only two tentacles. The summer vacation which bluntly ended last week with my disaster class grants and my hasty departure for Manila due to enrollment issues has been given a new lease of exactly a week (no) thanks to a global health issue simply labelled as A(H1N1).
This, I suppose, has given me an additional opportunity to look back and acknowledge how different and, in the words of my Tita Vilma, how diverse, the summer of 2009 has been for me. Who thought that a lot of things could happen in a span of a little over two months and I did not need to fly out of the country, soak myself in some foreign sun and eat something alien to my gastrointestinal tract just to make this summer memorable, unforgettable and, of course, sentimentally significant. I will devote this entry to make the events of recent months as vivid as the rains which kept the days drenched in a bid to work my way around the erstwhile traitor that is memory. After all, the summer of 2009 had a healthy and proportional mix of both fun and serious matters which kept me straddling that thin line between helium balloons and the bricks of inevitability.
1. Summer, sickness and role reversal
There was absolutely one reason why I had to go back to my coastal city home for the summer: to take care of my ailing grandfather. As I had written in my previous blog entries, my grandfather has been paralyzed from the waist down due to total nerve compression. He cannot get up on his own and needs to be turned every 2 hours or so and he frequently experiences excruciating pain along his lower back.
A case of complicated UTI compounds his health problems along with other ailments concerning his lungs, his liver and his heart.
What makes his situation more heartbreaking is the fact that he is still very much alert but his physical body serves to confine him to his bed. In his so-called "good days," he tries to maintain some semblance of normalcy by still going to his office and personally attends to a lot of work-related problems.
The entire summer saw me practically living in the hospital as my grandfather was wheeled in and out of admission with a certain degree of frequency that he eventually earned the monicker "balikbayan" among the nurses and staff. To add a more interesting angle to our hospital stay, my grandmother was also hospitalized within a week after my arrival due to pneumonia. She was allowed to share a room with my grandfather and she often walked around the room while dragging her IV tubes after her like a steel-and-plastic Christmas tree.
As if having two patients was not enough to give me a crash course on practical nursing, my own mother was hospitalized a few weeks after my grandmother got better! She had severe abdominal pain due to obstruction which in turn was attributed to intestinal adhesions. It got so bad to the point that her consulting physicians (a.k.a. my dad and his doctor-friend) were contemplating surgery. Everyday for about a week, I had to traverse ten rooms just to check on my grandfather and walk all the way back to my mother (who was curled like a ball in her bed due to severe abdominal pain) to give her a quick report on how he was doing.
The summer went by like a routine but we did our best to make the days a little cheerier. Who knew that white could be such a drab color? During instances when our patients would be napping, we would catch a couple of Pinoy flicks or other English titles that I missed. Every so often, my sister and I would go for a quick break by going out of the hospital to commit the greatest form of gastronomic sacrilege in the history of fast food - washing down Jollibee french fries with a McDonald's Coke float. Of course, my karma came in the form of a noted increase in the size of my thighs. I also met a deluge of wonderful people who had the gentlest of hearts and the brightest of smiles (such as a wonderful person named Lani from rehab who is my grandfather's therapist and this nurse whose name I forget who paid extra attention to my mother when she was in pain).
However there is ont really good thing about this summer that saw the reign of the antiseptic. I got to be part of a great rigodon of roles in my family. My grandparents and my mother had spent a significant portion of their lives taking care of me and fretting over me when I got sick and now it was time to switch seats. This time, it was our turn to give back after many years of simply receiving. Most days were difficult, especially when you find yourself sitting beside helplessness as you watch a face contort in pain. For my part, I found that there was a profound sense of joy and fulfillment in keeping watch over someone who used to keep an eye out for me and a infusion of courage and wisdom in knowing that despite the presence of pain and difficulty, there is a beautiful rainbow to look forward to.
2. American Idol Upset
3. Betty's First Birthday
4. Encore for the Ballerina
However, several doors have been reopened for her to enter the world of dance once more. For instance, this summer she had been hoping for a much quieter existence but after an invitation to join her former ballet teacher's summer dance recital was afforded to her, she immediately accepted it. After all, it was a chance for her not just to do something which she has always wanted to do but it was also a new opportunity to renew ties with close friends, a couple of which have gone on to pursue careers as dancers with Ballet Philippines and Ballet Manila.
Watching her do her trademark turns on that stage was like a breath of fresh air. My sister's love for dancing has a raw intensity which is rarely found in a lot of dancers. I know parting from her toe shoes was a major heartbreak as she lived, slept, ate and walked in the world of pirouettes, grand jetaes, arabesques, pas de deuxs and other fancy French words. She had a love-hate relationship with dancing. She revelled in the artistic fulfillment and the applause but struggled with many things - her weight, her so-called "bad feet," numerous injuries and her self-esteem which she had lost many times but she has thankfully regained through time. When she is on that stage, there is a ferocity at the edge of her smile and a happiness that is unmistakeably clear. I am glad that at this point in her life, she has been given a new lease in her chosen craft with a deeper, more profound reason for making those splits in mid-air: her faith.
5. Book dates
I decided that this summer was going to be the time for my dates with my favorite writers. I had originally scheduled reading about two to three books a week, a goal which I never followed because of my hospital duties. During the entire course of the summer, I only managed to read a measly four books, one of which was a repeat. I did get to finish Audrey Niffenegger's "The Time Traveller's Wife" which I thoroughly enjoyed because of its direct but intricate prose. I also read "Angels and Demons" by Dan Brown just so I could watch the movie without committing the common mortal sin of book-to-movie projects. I'd say I enjoyed this book far better than "The Da Vinci Code" (which I read in secret during one of my MS classes) because of an interest in the works of Bernini and Galileo (and Milton too!) which figured prominently in the book. I also did my nth revisit of "Pride and Prejudice" which is my favorite Austen work, no matter that my professed fascination for the novel has made my friend Edmund conclude that I, indeed, am a girl. No summer would be complete without a date with Nicholas Sparks which I did through "The Lucky One." The novel was trademark Sparks, nothing fancy or different but still heart-tugging. I did get a kick out of imagining Adrien Brody as Logan and Amy Adams as Beth, the main protagonists, even if the book descriptions did not match any of them with precision.
Right now, I am in the middle of Jodi Picoult's "Change of Heart" which I found to be thoroughly interesting (as always with anything by the author) but the rest of my summer days were filled with other important things as well, so I had to part ways with the sheets of paper just for a while.
6. Getting the perfect summer tan
Of course, being a severe lover of water, summer means hitting the waves and getting pruny while baking my skin to a crisp. Despite the hospital shifts, I did manage to squeeze in a bunch of trips to the beach. During the long Labor Day weekend, I joined Ate Carol, Iting, Ross, Kuya Stan and Mark in Boracay. The rains were torrential and made the 6-hour bus ride to Caticlan dreary. Snorkelling was a challenge since I felt like a cork bobbing helplessly in the water and it did not help that my life jacket's styro packs were getting dislocated, no thanks to the huge waves. When we got out of the water, Kuya Stan even told me he was going to sell his "uber slightly used snorkel." Sitting on the boat when we went island hopping felt like being on board a more subdued thrill ride as our boat crashed into the waves every so often. I tried parasailing for the first time with Ate Carol and it felt wonderfully relaxing as I floated along, sandwiched between the sapphire sea and the blue sky. The bumpy speedboat ride though to get to the parasailing spot stress tested my inner balance (and my derriere's capacity to absorb direct impact) and I found myself on the verge of motion sickness which I rarely experience. In this Boracay visit, I also found a lot of satisfaction when I was not in the water thanks to my early morning walk alone on the beach and another early morning trek to Boracay's highest point with Ate Carol, Iting and Mark.
This summer, we welcomed a bunch of visitors into our home. Early on, my sister's friend Maricor had dropped by for a quick visit. I enjoyed having her around since she is as crazy as my sister and has the same adventurous streak too. Even if she technically does not fall under the category of a visitor, I was glad that Manang Apple was also home for a couple of months.
Faye, a friend from GCF in Ortigas, was also in town for a teaching stint. After a number of postponements, we finally did get to meet up and I thoroughly enjoyed being some sort of a tour guide for her. She told me she had not been to a lot of places around the city so I decided to take her some place outside of the city for lunch. We had our meal in my current favorite food joint - Allan's in Oton. It turns out that Faye loves oysters (and seafood!) as much as I do so I ordered two plates of Allan's trademark baked oysters (one for each of us) along with fish and squid. Oh boy, did we wipe our plates clean!
I also discovered that Faye had a flair for architecture and in my part of the world, we had our fair share of old churches, Spanish-era houses and other interesting buildings. I took Faye to St. Anne's Church in Molo, the sinamay dealer's house in Arevalo, Nelly Garden and the other homes owned by the Lopezes along Luna Street and Central Philippine University where we had an interesting picture taken near the University Church by mounting Faye's camera on two monobloc chairs stacked on top of each other. I tried my best to play the part of Faye's tour guide, offering bits and pieces of information which (hopefully) only a local would know. If only we had more time, I would have wanted to bring her to the Jaro Cathedral, San Jose Church, Downtown, Fort San Pedro and the beautiful stone churches in Miag-ao and Tigbauan. That made me realize that there were actually a lot of things which visitors would find interesting about my home city and I thought I should set aside some time to reacquaint myself with a place I may have given inadequate attention to.
By the end of May, my family and I shared our home with someone we had not seen in eight long years - my cousin James from Houston. I've seen him in four different instances in his life: as a three-year old with (in his words) a temper, as a hyperactive ten-year old when I visited Texas, as a lanky fourteen-year old piano whiz and now, a 22-year old college graduate. James has grown so much through the years, both in terms of height and maturity, but he still retains so many traits which make him endearing. His sense of humor has remained intact and he still cracks the craziest (and most sarcastic) of jokes. He is great with conversations (which could stretch until way past 2 A.M.) and is very honest and straightforward. He has yet to prove that he is indeed a "dog whisperer" but he has sure made a convert out of me as far as the TV show "The Office" is concerned. All in all, I sure enjoyed having a "younger brother" around.
The wedding was intimate but there was enough room for spontaneity to become the perfect family affair. The wedding reception ended with the members of the entourage hitting the dance floor with our own version of "Jai Ho" and as I watched my newest cousin-in-law twirl Nene Loida around, I truly felt happy that she had found the person she was to spend the rest of her life with.
Love and all its intricacies is truly a lesson that one learns through time. "I love you" is not an expression to be thrown around casually as the word signifies more than just emotion but a deep-seated passion for the best to be brought out of every person who comes within contact and for complete acceptance to be a natural consequence. Inasmuch as love is a word pregnant with immense sacrifice and responsibility, it is interesting to note that it usually starts with nothing grandiose - a glance here, a smile there, a quiet conversation in the silence of the night - all in the most unexpected of places or situations. Thus getting to know the other person is actually an adventure in itself already. Only time can tell where everything is headed but sometimes, even if the story has yet to reach its ending, the journey itself is beautiful enough to be retold, the memory is special enough to be revisited and the lessons learned are too precious to be forgotten.
This may be my girly side rearing her head again but in the name of pink unicorns, I do hope for a happy ending everytime.
9. Revisiting Mangatarem
James and I went on a road trip with Tita Vilma and Tito Danny to the hometown of our respective parents. It was one thing to go back to a place which holds a significant part of my identity. It is another thing to take that trip back with one person who has never been there before.
I was surprised to know that James had never been to Mangatarem before. For my part, I don't get to visit my father's hometown very often but I had accumulated a significant amount of memories from the place - flying my first kite there at age three, playing with plastic teacups in the front yard, dangling from a tree branch in the front yard, sitting beside my Mamang and watching her unbraid her long hair, attending Simbang Gabi with my entire family for my Papang's 90th birthday and falling asleep half the time because I couldn't understand a shred of Pangasinan. The minute I entered their house in Torres Bugallon with half a Calasiao puto still in my mouth, I could hear Papang singing "Pilipinas Kong Mahal" and my grandmother reciting "O Captain, My Captain." Their scent lingered about the house and even if I didn't spend a huge fraction of my life here, I still felt like this place was home. I took James to the second floor where he saw his mom's graduation picture along with our other aunts and uncles.
Standing before my grandparents' graves, I wondered what they'd tell me and James if they had the chance to talk to us. I'd want to know what they thought of us now that we were no longer children, now that we were trying to find our own respective places in this planet. I would want to know if they would be proud of what we have become because I am truly proud to be called their granddaughter.
Before proceeding to Mangatarem, we first dropped by Manaoag for James to start with his novena. I took in the quietness of the church and started to pray as I sat beside Tita Vilma. When I was done, I looked around and saw people on their knees with prayer booklets, rosaries, candles. Their eyes were closed, their hands were clasped. I can only surmise as to what went through their minds at that moment but there was one thing I was certain of: people cling to their faith in times when the sky is overcast.
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