In the parking lot, a mild August breeze brings the tree branches to dance. The earthy rustling of the lush green leaves reaches her ears through the open car window, where she pauses thoughtfully in the middle of slinging on her comfortable black slip-ons after another long day in cramped pinching heels.
The simplicity of [...]
The way I see it, near the end, God bent down to whisper in my grandfather’s ear that death was coming soon for him.
This gave my grandfather enough time to reflect on his mortality of almost 90 years, discuss funeral arrangements with my astonished grandmother, and quietly bid farewell to his family and friends.
In a strangely morbid sense, my grandfather was lucky to have a sort of premonition about his impending death. Most of us leave the earth abruptly, unexpectedly, with loved ones keeling over in shock and grief over words unspoken, gestures unfinished, and other bitter regrets that haunt them for the rest of their lives.
My grandfather was spared from such a cruel fate. He was able to watch his children and grandchildren grow up before packing his bags and embarking into the great unknown with hardly any fuss. He lived a quiet, simple life and he died the same way; quietly and simply, sitting beside his beloved wife of 60 years, his eyes rolling heavenward and slumping to my grandmother’s lap when it was all over. It didn’t last for more than 5 seconds. God loved him so much that He didn’t allow my grandfather to suffer.
Being the eldest of his 18 grandchildren, I had the privilege of having the most memories about my grandfather. My first memory of him was his warm laughter flowing over me as he carried me in his arms.This is also my last memory of him that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
I remember going to church with him and grandmother, walking and skipping between them while they held my hands. They helped teach me how to read when they stayed over at our house. We went to Baguio during two summers, the first when I was a toddler and again when I was about 8 years old.
My grandfather was always there during my birthday parties, smiling and looking on as I blew out the candles on my cake. He brought my sister flowers every year for 22 years when we visited her at the cemetery on All Souls Day.
He was a great cook as well. He never allowed my grandmother or the maid in the kitchen. That was his territory. Whenever there was a gathering at my grandparents’ home in QC especially during Christmas, there would always be a feast of my grandfather’s cuisine laid out grandly on the dining table. I loved his fried chicken and caldereta.
My grandfather wasn’t a distinguished man of many professional achievements, but he was well-loved by family and friends. He never spoke ill of other people even when they deserved it. He laughed off problems and advised others to do the same. I never saw him raise his voice or lose his temper. He always made guests visiting his home feel welcome, and helped friends and strangers in need, even when he had barely enough money to spare.
He loved my grandmother so much. They were still so sweet despite many years of marriage. In the mall, he would walk a few steps ahead of us then stop, look back and wait for my grandmother, walking slowly, to catch up. He never left her behind, always looking over his shoulder to check if she was alright.
My cousins could privately claim that each of them were my grandfather’s favorite. But I think the truth was that he loved us all equally. Like his children, he loved all of his grandchildren as they were. He was very proud whenever we would excel in school then later on at work for the older ones, but we never felt any kind of pressure or expectation from him. He only wanted us to be happy. And if we were, that was enough for him.
“Ang pinakamaganda kong apo!” was how he greeted me and described me to friends and relatives for as long as I could remember, and no matter how down or ugly I felt at certain times, he never failed to cheer me up. My friends and ex-boyfriends who had the privilege of meeting him always told me afterwards that he was a wonderful man.
Indeed, my grandfather was a wonderful man. You will rarely hear people describe someone as a great man while he is still alive; only after death do they speak highly of a person as though he had lived an exemplary life.
In life and in death, people spoke highly of my grandfather. He truly was an exceptional person, and although I have met several highly accomplished people in my line of work, he remains to be the most exceptional person I have had the privilege of knowing. He was, after all, my grandfather.
Seems like I have a theme going on in 2006. So far, this year has been all about revisiting the past.
This year, I’ve met up with Sam (my first serious boyfriend) after three years to catch up, spent an entire night talking with Kim (my guy best friend from childhood) about our open-ended history, jumped on the bandwagon by setting up a friendster account and taking a peek at the lives of Bjorn (my first but not-so-serious boyfriend), Minnie (a close friend from my previous job), Joseph Morales (a crush of mine back in elementary and early high school), Cherry (my first friend in GY) and the rest of my friends whom I haven’t been in touch for years now.
I’ve bumped into Mia in the mall, my kindred spirit in high school who shared my love for certain TV programs, and that got me digging out my fan fictions from the closet and my PC. I’ve re-discovered my love for Silk Stalkings, Picket Fences and The X-Files.
Speaking of which, since pirated DVDs are all the rage, I’ve purchased the complete episode series of The X-Files and Ally 
McBeal. They were just as good– if not even better– than they were years ago when they were still on the air.
TV today just can’t compare, especially when dealing with these high concept ideas like alien conspiracies and supernatural occurrences. The X-Files was able to flawlessly combine chemistry-laden character work, the best direction around for TV, film production qualities, brilliant music and of course, amazing writing. This show has received its deserved praise and place among the greatest created programs ever.
As much as I’ve enjoyed these trips down memory lane, there are also some things that have changed drastically. A few weeks ago, I watched David Duchovny on Jay Leno. David has been my singular love throughout my teenage years, my incurable obsession for almost a decade.
He has transformed to the point of distortion. Not in terms of physical appearance– though he has the pudginess and receding hairline that comes with ageing– but personality-wise. Gone is the brooding, laconic, solitary poet that I revered and identified with when I was younger. In his place is a middle-aged, khaki-suit-clad father of two (with a barbie dollish wife) who posts inane blogs on the Internet containing statements like “I love the song [Build Me Up] Buttercup. It makes me happy.” I was horrified.
However, I haven’t been totally slipping into regression this year. I’ve acquired some new skills like learning how to drive. I just started lessons last week, and I love it. There’s a wonderful sense of freedom that comes with speeding along a highway on a stormy Sunday morning with my driving instructor clutching the dashboard for dear life and yelling, “Easy on the gas!!”
Yup, life is good indeed. 
A peek into my crazy, whimsical and at times, senseless mind.
