Most of my friends grew up with grandparents on their
side. They would wait outside the school for their Lolas or Lolos to pick them
up. They would go to church on Sundays with their grannies on their side. They
have those stories they can share, they have those memories they can remember.
That I don’t have.
My Lolo from our mother’s side died before I was born. My
mom said I have his intellect. He could have been proud of me for being the
only apo who attended college in UP.
He could have been proud of your achievements in school, says my mom.
My grandparents on my dad’s side were living in Zambales
and we rarely go there. Our Lolo died when I was young, we were never really
close but his death was the first death I’ve experienced in the family. Seeing
my father cried broke the tough kid I have inside. It was hard. And had it been
my way, I don’t want it to ever happen again.
I have two living grandmothers left. One’s about 4-hour
drive from home. I saw her less than a year ago. The other’s on the other side
of the world, about thirteen time zones away from us. And as long as I can
remember, I have only met her once.
1995. I was 6
then. My parents hurriedly woke us up because we’re going on a trip. But I have
school, I resented. Mama told us she
already took care of that. So we went to Manila to meet our Lola and Uncle Medy
and Aunt Cecile and our cousins. When I first saw them, I didn’t feel anything.
What would you expect a 6-year old boy, who was deprived of sleep, feel.
Besides, I barely knew them.
Aside from those occasional calls, Balikbayan boxes, Christmas
and greeting cards, I hardly knew Lola. She was in the States even before I was
born. I have seen her pictures though and she looked like Mama. I have heard
her voice and she sounded just like Mama. She would talk to me in Ilocano and I
would pass the phone to my mom for translations. And she has always loved
sending us letters.
I have read her letters and they were beautifully written.
Mama told us she excelled in English when she was studying. My Lola was the
class salutatorian and who else is the valedictorian but my Lolo. Great genes, if
you ask me. And I only got to know her in a short time she was in the
Philippines.
Almost two decades passed by and she never came back.
There were plans – us migrating to the States, them going back to the country
but those plans didn’t materialized. But still, we have always tried to be in
touched with her. Try is the only thing we could because we knew it will never
be enough.
I regret growing up not seeing her around. I regret not
taking care of her especially when she was tired or ill. I regret not having
her around during birthdays and graduations. I regret not having to spend Christmas
and New Year with her, how small our family looks like during mini-reunions. I don’t
have that Lola who’ll tell us our family’s history beyond what our parents’
memory could hold. We don’t have that Lola who’ll tell us how silly my mom was
when she was growing up. But she provided for us and she sent us to school so
who am I to fret. And I’ll be forever thankful for what she did for us.
Last night, I had two Lola’s present. Today, I was left
with one.
I love you, Lola! I hope I made you proud.
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