Farewell, Lolo
I lost my paternal grandfather yesterday.
I was so hopeful, so optimistic, that he would make it through. I was praying that he would come out of his deep sleep and regain his health so that by the time I can take my trip back to the Philippines, he would be there ready with his smile and countless stories.
Alas, his heart gave way. A ruptured nerve caused blood to circulate his brain.
He suffered a heart attack a couple of days ago and was admitted to the hospital. Although not pronounced comatose, the doctor said he was in deep sleep. The only response from him was when tears fell from his eyes when one of his sons called and the phone was pressed to his ear. Last night when Papa's cellphone rang, I felt my heart skip a beat, making me nervous. But I refused to entertain the thought, and continued staring at the television screen. A few moments later, Papa comes out and gives us the news that Lolo was gone.
My relationship with my lolo wasn't the typical granddaughter/grandfather relationship. I grew up miles away from my paternal grandparents, but in my heart they meant more to me than words can ever convey. I loved them. And I admired both my grandparents for the way they raised my Papa and his 10 siblings. My grandparents were strong individuals. My Lola was the feisty one, while my Lolo preferred to say the least and sauntered off to the background with his shy smile and his words of wisdom. Indeed, he was a man of little words.
But my fondest memory of him is that of his stories that echoed in the night when we were in Bicol to visit. These were of witches and warlocks in town. His ominous voice and his serious look drew you in despite his steady handle of Tagalog. And when he laughed, it was almost as if he was chuckling - infectious even.
Lolo was a strong man. He has been through a lot through the years. He has battled a number of ailments. He kept hanging in there in hopes that one day he would see all of his children and grandchildren again. And we, too, hoped that we would all see each other again.
But God had other plans. Lolo's time was up. The angels have a better place for him up there.
I haven't yet cried my bucket of tears. I know it is welling up inside me. My eyes sting and my jaw stiffens as I try to stop myself from crying in public.
It is much more painful to me that I was not able to see Lolo in the last 6 years, but I know that I will see him again someday. And it pains me even more that I cannot go back home to see him laid at his final resting place. All I can do is pray for him and for Lola that she receive all the support she can get during this heart-wrenching time.
That's pretty much all I can do, in addition to this entry I offer to him.
I will miss Lolo so so much. His laugh will echo in my ears. His life will continue to inspire me throughout my own life. And his legacy will live in me.
