espiritista

i just remembered

it's been two years since my tita suddenly died of aneurysm. the whole family went to the hometown for a little shared meal.

among many deaths we have seen in the family, that death shocked the family the most because tita didn't look ill at all, and from the time she collapsed, it took just a couple of days till she was gone. her last words to her husband were "ano ba 'yun? ang sakit naman!" she was clutching her head in total agony, as her jaws were slowly starting to lock. she went unconscious and straight into coma. the aneurysm in the brain was so massive the doctors were totally helpless, saying no operation could save her. my tita's family was relatively well-off, but no money in the world could help. it was a feeling of utter helplessness.



two years hence, it was interesting to look at the family she left behind. tito has concentrated on the family business because he has five kids to look after, two who are already in college. i must say they're doing very well, keeping the memory of my tita alive, and at the same time moving on with their lives.

i know deep down in their hearts, there is a place that misses someone. we feel it too. we are a big family, but very close to each other despite the size and distance to where we all live.

it's always an ambiguous feeling going back to my hometown in Pampanga. among the third-generation kids in the family, it's me who most vividly remembers how this place looked like before the pinatubo lahar engulfed the town. that memory of lush ricefields and rich fishponds of my grade school years always contrasts with the present powdery landscape. it's no longer a desert as it once looked. the rainy day floods have started to become less and less severe as each rainy season passed. some fishponds have started coming back. still, the flowing creek at the back of the house hasn't flowed in 10 years. it's now murky green. everywhere you look, there is still plenty of evidence that the devastation hasn't gone yet, or maybe, it will never go away.

if this was a story, the town's decaying beauty can find the perfect objective corelative in several people i know personally who have either left the town, have died, or are currently in the throes of terrible illness. whether choosing to stay here despite the hardships, or living in our loving memories and looking at us from above, or giving as a heartwarming, glowing smile even if one arm has drooped, they're all still here. for laughter and a good meal.

permanence is an illusion. beauty, fleeting. but love lasts as long as we fight to keep it alive.

posted by dyeproks @ 11:41 PM