Dear Lola ‘Sabel,

03Apr08

I sometimes imagine that you are still with us. Laughing loudly, as we retell our family stories.  Commemorating memories to a history that we endlessly try not to forget. 

In high school I would roll my eyes as Tita C would reminsce about me and elo. 

“You remember that time at the house?”

“YESSS Tita, I do.”

“you and elo were playing in the living room on that toy truck of yours.  you kept saying ‘PUSH! PUSH!’ and elo would answer ‘WAG SABE TULAK! WAG SABE TULAK!  you didn’t understand elo was saying “Stop Saying Push!”  we all were laughing so much at you two!”

Lola, you would smile and laugh the loudest at these stories.  Looking at your grandchildren go from babies to whiny toddlers to pimply angsty teenagers and for some…into grown ups.  At parties now the stories are still told, the laughter is still there, and sometimes i think i feel you in the room.  But I still wish you were still there.

I wish you were still here so I could ask you how you did it?  How did you raise all those kids? How did you bring bags upon bags of food from Ozamis to Manila by yourself? How did you leave the country behind? How did it feel to watch us all grow up? How did you feel when your grandchildren answered you in english and not tagalog? How did you feel when we played loudly in your house?  How did you feel when we left it behind?  How does it feel to be reunited with Tito Jamie? Did he grow up in heaven? Did he watch his younger siblings grow up to be the family you cared for?

I don’t think I ever said to goodbye to you that June.  You are the first hero I have ever lost.  It’s probably why I couldn’t get through my eulogy without turning into a sack of tears.  I keep having conversations with you in my dreams but I never remember your replies.  Instead I’ll keep your memory and the scent of rose petals with me. 

But still…I miss the sound of your voice.  I miss your garlic fried rice. I miss you snoring in between abc soap operas. I miss you barking orders to Lolo Gabing and him not answering you because his hearing aid is turned off.  I miss the life I knew before I grew up. 

Simply put, I miss you…

One of your many grandchildren

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