The Millennial Writer

The only people who will never expect you to think and act like an adult no matter how old you’ve grown, will be your grandparents. They will always wish you never grew up to be someone they can no longer carry in their arms and they can no longer take to the park to get a cone of ice cream. They will always hold you like a toddler who doesn’t know how to eat alone and to bathe on his own. They will always address you as their beloved and most precious one even after asking your name over and over again, due to old age.

Life is such a great thief of time. You can only wish life will be kind enough to return it to you.

NAIA Terminal 4 Departure Area
April 21, 2014 5:05 AM

Barely a day after my grandmother died, I stared at my phone’s screen reading for the nth time my brother’s post on my facebook wall, “Kris, Mama is gone”. I still couldn’t believe it. “I will never see her again” I whispered, while waiting for my flight’s boarding announcement. The moment the airline prompted it was time to leave, memories began flashing back. I had to hold back my tears as I walked towards my window seat.

Mama Dorotea had 90 years of a life well-lived. Being her youngest granddaughter, I was blessed to be given a chance to spend 23 years of my life with her. We don’t come from a rich family or famous clan of some sort, so we all got used to living a modest and simple life as she taught us so.

Summer days with Mama will always be a huge part of mine and my cousins’ childhood. We always loved staying in her house when school was off, just a few houses from our strict parents, though. We would play the entire days of summer, would gladly help Mama with her chores, and would go to bed and get up anytime we wanted. No rules except for one – we were all obliged to pray the Holy Rosary every Friday at 3:00 pm especially during the Season of Lent. The moment her bestfriend, whom she called Sister Daday – a member of the Legion of Mary arrives, everyone had to get hold of his rosary and prayer booklet. We were also obliged to eat the snacks Sister Daday would always bring us, after the session. She would let us eat the same thing every single time. And we had to pretend it tasted good, every single time as well. I remember how our older cousins including my eldest brother Edfel would find their ways out of Mama’s house before the clock hit 3:00. Mama had this notebook where our names were written for attendance. The sneaky boys always get punished each time they missed our sessions.

Her house didn’t have TV in it. It didn’t have toys even. We slept on makeshift beds and shared pillows in the living room. We would bathe together in underwear outside her house and we would wait in line while Mama dried our hairs one by one, after soaking them in fresh coconut milk, so we wouldn’t be attacked by lice which Mama called little carabaos. I was always the last kid in the line since I had the thickest hair, Mama had to spend more time on me to dry it out, excluding the time she needed to comb and set it.

But my favorite memory of Mama was, when she would do her best to bring enough food on the table for us. We were around six or seven kids squeezing in her old house. I was the smallest in the group and I was too young to understand how difficult it was for Mama to feed everyone three to four times a day. Our parents would leave her some money and some groceries, but we were a bunch of little parasites consuming the supplies in two days, which were supposed to last the whole week. One night before bedtime, I ran out of milk supply and handed Mama my empty milk bottle while she was in the kitchen washing the dishes, “Mama, timpla po gatas”. I remember she had to take a few scoops of powdered milk from her half-empty can of Sustagen Adult, just so I could get to sleep. Mama never told our parents about it. We would see her pulling out some bills from a purse she kept under her pillow to get us through the week. She would prepare porridge for breakfast, dried fish for lunch, fried bananas for afternoon snacks and paksiw for dinner. She would make sure everyone gets his piece on his plate, even if it meant leaving her plate barely filled with enough food.

Few summers after, we were all grown-ups and had to spend the break somewhere else for certain reasons. Older cousins had to fly out for their On-the-Job trainings, family trips, summer school, etc., until we all started working, some got married and got kids, others went abroad and we all became full grown adults. Mama also began feeling weak, she had to be nursed already. She started forgetting things, forgetting dates and forgetting our names. In just a snap, we all stopped spending summer with Mama.

Of all the days in a year, it was so overwhelming that she chose to leave all of us on a fine sunny day of April. We couldn’t believe we were all flying home not to spend our usual summer, but to finally bid Mama goodbye. I wiped my tears as I got up from my seat few minutes after our plane landed in Tacloban airport.

Ampersand Capital Inc Office, Makati City
April 20, 2018 12:00 NN

Four years since, I still mourn Mama’s departure. Knowing life will never allow me to turn back time, I try my best to get this chance of telling all grandchildren who might be reading this now, to spend time with your grandparents as much as you can. Take them to the park and tell them you still want that cone of ice cream. Hold them like you’re still a child who needs comfort of a grandparent. Talk to them and tell them stories as if they can still clearly hear and understand everything you say. Sit with them, laugh with them and recall your best memories together. Don’t get tired introducing yourself over and over again because I’m telling you, it may already be difficult for them but they will always remember your name.

Life is such a great thief of time. Unfortunately, life will never be kind enough to return it to you.

(Photo Credits: http://www.twitrcovers.com/twitter-covers/summer-sun-yellow/)