No matter the pace of our lives, Mama had
one regular habit - going to the beauty parlor weekly to have her nails and
hair done. This was something she kept
up till her dying day. I remember that
during her illness, her doctor had to request to wipe off her nail polish so
Mama’s conditions may be easily monitored. When she died, one of my sisters-in-law
had to rush to the mortuary to give her a manicure and pedicure lest she haunt
us all from her grave.
Mama had her moments of nastiness and
bitchiness and she would never deny it.
She was, however, one of the most caring persons that ever came to be.
When we became adults, we had for
neighbors a troublesome couple. The
husband was a bank manager and the wife a real estate agent. They had four kids, two boys and two girls. The household was often in turmoil with loud
quarrels and sounds of blows exchanged.
Maybe to avoid embarrassing herself, the wife frequently left the
household for weeks and seldom stayed home.
The children, ages 9 to 6, were then left on their own. They fended for themselves as best they could
with the father providing them the money to buy food. He was out of the house early and returned
usually by midnight. When the father
came home, he was in the habit of inspecting their abode especially when there
were no helpers. Whenever he was
dissatisfied, he woke up all his children no matter the hour of the night to
have them wax, scrub, and polish. While
the children were at it, he loudly and shrilly harangued them. Sometimes, there were sounds of spanking
which only the eldest son received. One night, he even locked out the son naked as
punishment. The poor boy spent the
entire night standing at the driveway in his birthday suit. Mama found him in the morning and that was
how the boy was allowed to re-enter their house.
Being immature, these kids regularly squandered
their food budget on candies and chips.
When Mama found out, she started sending food over to them when meal
times came and it became a regular thing between the two households. When the youngest son went to a military
academy, Mama sent him delicious food weekly which he wisely shared with his
upperclassmen. According to him, he
avoided being hazed and beaten by this simple act of sharing his food. Mama did this until he finished his course
and needless to say, he was forever grateful for her care. As gesture of their love and gratitude, this
son and another sister, took leave from work, insisted on watching over Mama
during her terminal illness and stayed until her end.
Mama stood as protector of these children
while they were growing up. One time,
the husband and wife were engaged in a dangerous fight such that their helper
fled and jumped over to our backyard.
Mama learned that the wife was wielding a machete and the husband had
his gun out and cocked. In a bit, Mama
rushed to their house and immediately took over the situation; she vehemently reprimanded
both husband and wife for such a glaring scandal right in front of their
cowering children. For a short time after,
the couple and their children lived in uneasy peace. This,
of course, was a perfect example of a marriage gone sour. The wife continued to be absent from the
domicile and for even longer periods and the husband later brought home another
son borne out of an illicit relationship.
Mama had plenty of superstitious/irrational
beliefs, too, which I think was common for her generation. We grew up turning our plates around when
someone needed to leave while we were eating.
I don’t know the reason for this anymore; whether the person leaving or
you will meet an accident if you didn’t!
There was that time, too, when she moved heaven and earth to break my
brother’s romance for the simple reason that the lady involved had gapped front
teeth. She claimed that money will never
be retained by the couple. One of her
half-sisters got married and borrowed her pearl rosary; during the ceremony,
the rosary’s cross got lost. Mama felt
it was an omen of a hard life ahead.
This sister died of child birth many years after. Mama was likewise wary
of persons with smoky eyes because they would try to steal from you and those
with rabbit’s eyes because they will betray you. Shifty eyes meant that the person is
calculating or is hiding something; and so on and so forth. I was in fear of the way she sat in judgment
of my friends simply by the way they looked.
I resented such sweeping condemnation then only to realize that she was
right most times. Maybe, she could have
been a sharp profiler!
The last time that she celebrated her
birthday, the first caller of the day, one of my business associates totally unaware
that it was her birthday, came in a black dress. Mama commented on it after the visitor
left. She said that it was the color of
mourning and that maybe it was going to be her last birthday. True enough, Mama died the following year,
months before her birthday!
Many times during those years, I could
feel that Mama was becoming lonely. It
must have been painful for someone who was truly vibrant and perky to have to
step into the shadows of our lives. In
hindsight, I even thought it would have been better had she remarried while she
was younger. But, Mama always said:
“Walang pangalawang Gloria sa pag-aasawa.”. (You can’t find happiness a second
time in marriage.) Am sure it’s one of
her homegrown knowledge again; having been burned badly by the second marriage
of her own mother. After Papa died, she
devoted her entire life to raising us. It
was not for want of any suitors, too. I
remember parades of suitors coming to pay a visit but Mama must have
discouraged them from the get-go that few even ventured a follow-up. It was
only after she died that I came to know how deeply she loved Papa. Among mementos that I dug up from her
personal belongings were plane tickets of Papa’s trips, passport, letters and
telegrams of Papa, even the bathrobe he wore when he suffered his heart attack;
all these she kept for thirty seven years.
Being lonely, however, did not hinder Mama
from sharing many stories from younger days.
Whenever she came home from Canada, we spent lazy afternoons chatting
about what occurred in the past; funny stories and family revelations were uncovered! She was constantly alert to what may happen
while Papa was alive. He once came home
with his secretary in tow. Apparently,
the lady was not feeling well and Papa offered to drive her home. He stopped by to tell Mama first so she will
not worry if he got late. Not one to let
such an unusual development pass, Mama immediately forked over a few pesos to
the secretary and instructed her to take a cab home. She advised that a wife should never allow
any other woman to grab her husband’s attention and solicitude. For this, my uncle Itio, Ibu’s husband, often
teased Mama for being “selfish”. He
jokingly remarked that because she refused to share her husband, God took him
away early.
Courageous and spunky: these are the two adjectives I believe best
describe Mama. If I were a painter, I
would most probably paint her as a lady pirate standing on top of the ship and
laughing heartily as the wind and rain whipped across her face. She always seemed to have that aura of
audacity about her! If she had ever
shown any weakness at all in her lifetime, it was her extreme love for and
expectations from my eldest brother, Harry.
He was always treated like a prince and the rest of us like his vassals. But, that is an entirely different story
altogether which may be told another time if ever.
To Mama’s credit, she also retained many
of Papa’s friends even after he was gone.
Most of these friends were Americans since Papa was assigned to work on
contracts with the Clark Air Base. The favorite
of these Americans was Chinese food and Mama bragged that she could cook
Chinese very well. Of course, they took
her up on her invite and she had to order from a Chinese restaurant
downtown. With her characteristic
chutzpah, she claimed she was the one who cooked them all! Ha-ha-ha-ha-hah….. what a brazen liar!
Papa’s most loyal friend was Mao and Mama
was always quite close to him and his wife despite his very poor
credibility. You see, the man was
addicted to gambling and Mama considered his wife a saint for putting up with
his vice. He hocked his family’s jewels
and everything else just so he could go to the races and bet. He once borrowed Papa’s watch and could no
longer return it because he pawned it.
Papa and Mama tolerated all these and even laughed at Mao’s escapades. Mama often mentioned that Mao was repeatedly
involved in fights over betting debts but would quickly disappear under the
table while Papa tussled with whoever Mao made enemy of. After Papa was gone, Mao visited us every so
often just to check and see how we were doing.
I remember he also habitually picked me up and drove all the way to
their residence in Quezon City for meals.
In fact, when he failed to show up for a few months, I dreamt of him
coming for a visit in a real spiffy attire.
He looked jolly and relaxed and seemed much, much younger. Because of this dream, I called up his wife
to say hello; only to find out that he passed away too some weeks back! She could not inform us because she could not
find our telephone number. Did he come
into my dream to say goodbye? I often
wondered.
Mama said it was the same thing that happened
to her when Papa passed on. Being young
and emotional, she cried to high heavens and questioned God for Papa’s
death. She related that there was one
night when she fell half asleep on the rocking chair. Her arm was over her eyes which were swollen
from too much grieving. She suddenly
felt Papa in front of her and he took her arm off her eyes. He told her to pray constantly and believe
that God will always take care of her and her children. Then, just as silently, he disappeared. Mama could not tell whether it happened for
real or just a dream but that was the time she gained acceptance of his death
and moved on.
She may have been doing the same for me
when I dreamt of meeting her at the memorial park. This was at a time when she had been gone some
months. She was wearing her usual long
house dress and was beaming as she walked towards me. She assured me that she will always be with
me and will constantly watch over me so I need not worry. Maybe that is the reason why I still cannot
comb my hair in public, or sit on the sidewalk while waiting in line for a
ride, or even look out the window to watch people go by. You see, these were all no-no’s for Mama and
I can feel her watching me so my mind tells me, “Magagalit si Alice!” (Alice
will be angry!)
I guess, Mama always had such a larger
than life presence in our lives. In
fact, my brother, Dick, called her a “terrorist”! It began when she regularly came home from
Canada. As soon as we received word that
she was coming home, I would be busy with my household help sweeping, wiping,
scrubbing, waxing and whatever else it took to make my home squeaky clean. On one such occasion, Dick dropped by and saw
how busy we were. He commented that it
was the same thing happening in his own home.
Apparently, the thought of her forthcoming visit terrorized us all into
cleaning like there was no tomorrow! And
who wouldn’t when this particular visitor climbed our stairs with one finger
running along the banister and checking for dust?
Mama seemed to have had an uncanny inkling
of her impending departure. On her last
trip back, she had this sense of urgency to see everyone whom she had not seen
for the longest time. With my uncle Ador, she went on a long trip to their hometown. There, she visited old friends and
relatives. She became cranky when at
home as if she always needed to be somewhere else. When she fell ill, I immediately told her to
fly back to Canada as my brother, Tom, requested. The doctor advised, though, that even there, all
they can give her was nursing care. Tom still
felt that she would receive better care there and, needless to say, her medical
needs can be met by her healthcare insurance.
Even with the assurance that I will fly with her, she gently but
adamantly refused to go saying, “Dito ko na lang hihintayin ang oras ko.” (I will just wait for my time here.)
So the waiting began. Mama refused to be admitted to the hospital
until necessary for times when she needed blood transfusions. Her usually charmed life worked its magic again
when we found a doctor volunteer who came to check on her every day. This blessing came in the person of Dr.
Carmen Castaneda, one of the best friends of my doctor-cousin, Josie, who had
by then been in the United States for some years. Another cousin, Lyja, brought over the
hospital bed that Ah-pe used when he, in turn, battled a terminal illness. Everything was set to make Mama’s last days
as comfortable as we can manage. A
caregiver was hired to monitor Mama’s needs and to ensure painkiller was given
as needed.
It was open house from then on. Guests streamed in; relatives, friends, and
mostly, people she had influenced and helped.
She talked to Ibu over long distance because Ibu could no longer travel
due to her diabetes and other complications.
I overheard her one time saying with resignation, “Baka hindi na tayo
magkita ulit.” (We may not get the
chance to see each other again.) Always,
though, nights were reserved for karaoke singing. She just loved to watch her grandchildren perform
for her.
My aunt, Uma, who was herself recuperating
from a long battle with rectal cancer, also came for a last visit. As soon as she entered the room, Mama gave
her the good news, “Tom is coming home.”
Uma replied, “You know, my ass had been bothering me since
yesterday.” Mama again gave Uma the good
news about Tom. Uma again told Mama
about her ass. This exchange went on for
about five times so much so that Lyja and I were bent over in silent laughter behind
the door. Then, the two old ladies looked
into each other’s eyes and fell into a companionable silence; a silence maybe
only two kindred souls can share in the face of death.
On October 23, 1988, Mama finally gave up
her fight against stomach cancer. As a
sign of consideration perhaps, she chose to creep away in the early morning
hours the day after my own wedding anniversary.
Days from now, it would be her 24th
death anniversary. It could be a day of
remembering for us, her children. But,
frankly, in my senior years, I often get to recall how she was with us, how she
made life seemed so exciting and exhilarating.
Am I meeting the bar she had set? I think of how I had been with my
children and how my children would be with their own children, my
grandchildren. I truly regret that they and
their cousins missed out on one of the most colorful personalities they could
have had the privilege of knowing when Mama passed away. Her fiery Castilian temper, her vivid striking
beauty that made everyone look her way, the lilt of the laughter that she
shared with abandon, her quick wit, and the gentle heart beneath her
domineering presence – I will always hold all these dear in my heart and
memory.
For those of you in our next generation, I
recount some of these memories before age blurs them in my mind. I hope that in knowing more about her, you
will know who and what you are because of who and what Alice had been!
No comments:
Post a Comment