Wrote this on 8th of December 2009.
Thoughts of him still linger. I wish he is still around. I miss him so.
Today is his second death anniversary.
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It has been told many times over that there are only 2 undeviating things in this world – death and taxes. Over the past couple of days, I have been contemplating on the former – death. Having been left behind by several lovely earthly angels in the past, I know I should be more prepared when it comes to death but my Lolo Oeng’s passing is just too much for me to handle.
Lolo Oeng is my Mom’s Dad. Much of the values that I embrace now were influenced by him – love for my country, family, Editorial pages of the daily broadsheet and his kind of being strict – to name a few. But above all the traits that he possessed, his love for my Lola topped everything else.
Through his eyes, I have seen what it means to love.
A loving husband
His love for my Lola (which all her grandchildren lovingly endeared as Iya) is almost just as unwavering as his dealings with his own principles. When my Iya was afflicted by Alzheimer’s disease a few years back, Lolo Oeng would lovingly take good care of Iya – cook for her, buy stuff for her, would remind her to take a bath, ask Iya’s hair cutter to take good care of Iya’s do almost every 2 months, religiously cut Iya's fingernails and the list goes on. Even when he was already bed-ridden, he would still make sure that Iya was being taken good care of. Before he eats his breakfast/lunch/dinner, he’d make sure that Iya has eaten first or that she has her juice drink stored in the fridge.
He loved my Iya more than anything in this world – I saw that.
A doting but strict grandfather
Lolo Oeng showered me with such wonderful love very early on in my life. He was out of the country for awhile but when he got back home, he made sure that he compensated for all those days he missed.
Being his first grandchild, he spoiled me a little with so many tangible things that money can buy. He gave me my first gold dangling earrings when I was barely in school, a doll that cries and closes her eyes (which scared me to death), so many books to read, a little red karaoke box that has a mic attached to it, birthday cards that produces music when you open them, a toy birthday cake that “sings”, a little piano set and a whole lot more. Mom would often tell me that I am my Lolo’s favorite – being his first grandchild, I gave him daw so much joy with my crazy antics.
When I was already a teenager, Lolo and I would often have these misunderstandings – huge age gap. He was the conservative type and I was a teenager trying to get to know herself. He was white and I was gray. We would often clash because I wanted to do a lot things that most girls would not want for themselves (i.e. skateboarding, singing in a band, sporting a super short hair, etc.). He would often tell me that I was always being hard headed. One time he asked me, why can’t I just be some “normal” girl. I remember telling him that I am normal. Its just that the things that I want is not common – but I am very normal.
My Lolo may not always like what I do but I know he understands that this is me. And through the years, we both have learned to appreciate the kind of person that we are meant to be. I will always be that girl who sings in the house even during the wee hours and he will always be that man who wants to be reading the newspaper first.
Happy memories
I have a whole lot of many wonderful memories with my Lolo but one that tops everything was my birthday this year. He greeted me the day before my birthday and when I told him that my birthday is on the 17th, he explained that he just wanted to be the first to greet me. I was very much elated and sobbed like no other.
The next day, my birthday, he greeted me again and would want to sing Happy Birthday to me as if I was his little girl again. I was about to leave the house that morning, heading to Comelec to register when he told me that he asked Tito Lucien to buy chicken for me. It was his gift to me, in his own sweet way. Nothing fancy but it was the best birthday gift he ever gave me. That simple gesture made me want to cry again. And I figured now, that warmly cooked chicken was his last gift to me.
Lolo went "home"
December 4th at around 11 in the morning, my Lolo Oeng breathed his last. He was 85.
I hurriedly left work when I was told about what happened. When I got home, I went straight to their room and there I saw his lifeless body covered with a blue blanket. For the first time in my whole life, I cried like I almost lost my mind. I remember calling him – “Lolo! Lolo!” many times but there was no response. I was hoping that he was still alive, that he was just in deep slumber. I embraced him and his body was still warm at that time but he was no longer breathing.
Something cold and hard struck my heart – my Lolo Oeng is gone. There will no longer be Holidays with him, no more mornings seeing him read his broadsheet and take his coffee, no more early evening TV shows, no more “Salbahe talaga yan si Gloria Arroyo”, no more asking of what is the dollar rate for the day, – no more memories to make with him.
For awhile, I felt my world stopped. But what with the jolting and comfort that my Tito Lucien gave me that very moment, I went back to my senses and realized that death is, indeed, very real.
Today is the 4th day since my Lolo Oeng left and went back to a place where no arthritis, pneumonia and diabetes could ever hurt him and right now, I miss him so very much.
