Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Guitar mom

Like all mother-daughter relationships, we have our shares of misunderstandings and fights, from light to serious ones. Neither one backs down. I guess I got that stubbornness from you (or for having the same zodiac). It is a welcome change that, today, we have tamed down... And now, there are more understanding, giving, and laughing... And eating out!

Mommy, we have been through tough times. And there are times when you have shown your moment of weakness, but in my heart, I know that it would be just temporary. Because you are strong. And stubborn. And I got those from you.



By the way, I am so proud that you can play the guitar, and that I can't. It's your thing, and I love it!

(But can you teach me some time? I'll get an appliance lift, and move over my piano. I never loved it anyway. Guitar is cooler!)

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

still

Eduard and brother Eric playing with soda crowns, flatting them with stones


It was Eduard's birthday the other day. We had a simple celebration in our house. Mom cooked her classic spaghetti for the 12-year-old celebrant, and there were some fried chickens, too. Only the immediate family members were present, but it was nevertheless a lovely day.

Once again, I am happy that my cousin (who is more like a son to me) is growing up to be a simple boy, who never asked for anything his family couldn't afford. He never asked, not even wished, for a PSP, Wii, or a Nike shoes or anything a boy his age would naturally want to have. Even custom design t-shirts will make him happy. Actually, I don't have a gift yet, and he understands I'm broke these days, and I never heard a tantrum from him. (On my last birthday, he broke his piggy bank to buy me a gift.)

I like looking at the photo above. It's a good memory frozen in time. I hope they could stay children forever. Or at least, I hope they remain pure in heart.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

his best birthday EVER

My "little boy" Eduard had his 11th birthday last May 6. Since it was a Friday, I got to celebrate his birthday with him on a Saturday night. (Actually, we bought him shoes Saturday afternoon.) And according to him, he truly had a great time, that is, compared with his other birthdays---his best birthday ever! So where did I bring him and his kuya ian? I brought him to a resto bar (owned by my friend's family).

We started the night with a dinner. We ordered the specialty rice, buttered chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, and something that tasted like pindang na usa. The food was great!





Eduard really ate a lot!



Then, I urged them drink with me in the bar! They were a bit shy at first...




But eventually learned how to hold a bottle!




Hey! I'm not that cool, you know? All we did in the bar was photo-ops. Dami namin pictures sa bar na yan! hehe. Maybe next time, I'd really teach them how to drink or to trailer hitch or to play pusoy dos, but not at age 11!


Just the three of us bonding


The fun part was when we played billiards. The three of us are novices, so we were all excited to hold a tako. And we were all eager to shoot a ball. But a single 8-ball game took an hour! And we downgraded our goal to this: just hit the ball with that white one!








At about 1 am, we finished playing billiards. We got exhausted after hours of playing and containing our excitement. It felt like we were pros the way we were too keen on shooting a ball. haha. Whenever we shoot a ball (is this even the term used for it?), it was hysteria!

Afterward, we conquered the videoke until 3 am, with yours truly leading the challenge. haha. We wouldn't go home if I hadn't received a text from an angry mother (my mother) telling me to bring the kids home. =)

Happy birthday, Eduard! I love you soooooooooo much!

Monday, April 25, 2011

a quiet week

How did you spend your holy week?

I went home to the province (and I'm still here). Against my mother's complaint, I brought with me so many stuff and urban clothes, thinking I'd "seize" every day of this long vacation. I've been missing drinking alcohol and going home at 4 am. I also missed my old friends here.

Apparently, I only went out of the house twice. One was on Good Friday to "watch" the procession, at the request of 11-year-old Eduard. The other was on Sabado de Gloria, making our way to hundreds of people who decided to go to the same water park as the one we went to (it was really a hassle, but we enjoyed the day nonetheless). This was also at the request of the children.

I guess my plan to party didn't work out well. Apparently, I didn't miss drinking and partying that much. Is this part of growing old? Or perhaps this was really the normal me. I've spent almost every day here in a routine manner. Reading a book, watching DVD, watching TV, and reading a book---with meals in between, and almost all the time, with kids around.

I remember holy week last year was full of activities. Yes, it was a vacation week, but it was quite tiring. This one was more serene. And frankly, I enjoyed it more. =)

So, how was yours?

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

teenage dirtbag

Ian, the first kid since the first set of grandchildren (kuyang, me, and tootie - only a year apart from each other), turned 17 yesterday. When he was a baby, we were all into him, especially me. He's just so cute, and his smile was so endearing. He took over our world, my world, for a time. When I come home from school (I was in high school then), I'd go straight to his room, look at him, and play with him for a while. During some nights, I sleep over with him and his parents. At times, I really think angels are playing with him, especially when he giggles alone. Eventually, his parents moved out, but they entrusted his care to Lola. So he has become, what you may call, a Lola's boy.

After years of staying in Manila, and going home only for long weekends and holidays, I never really saw him grow up. True, I witnessed the important events in his life, but I never saw his day-to-day life that turned him into what he is now.

He's grown to be the typical teenaged kid, you know, with the usual complaints about them. If he's not on the net, he constantly has all those Apple accessories plugged into his ears, making it very hard to talk with him. And of course, he hates staying at home and prefers spending time with barkadas. I never really guessed he'd be the same way that he is now. But don't we all pass through this phase? Some just pass through it faster than the others, while others almost never pass this stage (take a guess which category I belong to). Still, I know in my heart that he and his siblings and my niece Keng all grow up to be fine adults someday. I am praying for that, every time I pray.

To some extent, I envy Ian. I never had the same liberty he's been experiencing now. My parents, Lola even, were stricter back when we were teenagers. I am home by 6 pm and rarely go out with friends on weekends. And I never, never, experienced sleepovers and out-of-towns. At the same time, I am happy for him---that he has been living the life a teenager should live it. I hope he gets wisdom from the life that he is choosing now. After all, I know he's angel is always still with him.

Happy birthday, Ian. Never forget, ever, that we love you always. You will always be my original favorite. ;)


Note: Teenage Dirtbag is a Wheatus song that I really love.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

bisita

I just love it when my grandmother exerts extra effort whenever I am home. Last night, she stayed late and watched all the soap operas with me. I insisted that she already go to her room and rest at about 9 pm, but she in turn insisted she wasn't sleepy yet. From time to time, I can see her closing her eyes. haha. In fact, she fell asleep once or twice. But she said, she regularly does that every commercial. Marunong pang magpalusot si lola! I pretended sleepy so she would sleep already.

When I woke up this morning, she heated water for my coffee and offered all the breakfast she had around. I just took the coffee. She stared at my face and saw the pimples that appeared during finals week and asked me if I wanted her to bring me to the dermatologist for skin care (during college, she was the one who always insisted, and the one who actually brought me, to the same derma). Considering how simple she is, it's surprising how she really gets bothered with a few pimples in my face (as well as that of my male cousins!).

And on our way home from my cousin Eduard's recognition, she bought me halo-halo and my favorite isaw. Isn't she the sweet one? =)

Monday, January 31, 2011

when you believe

It was around June when my mother first had her chemotherapy session. Probably due to her scared mind and weak body, she suffered during that first one. We had to rush her to the hospital some days after that. She was so afraid then; so were we.

This week, my mother will have her 8th and last chemo. The chemos in between were also physically hard for her, the anxiety and fear never really left her, but she faced them with more resolve and courage.

My father was instrumental that she reached this point. He has always, always, been there for her. He would understand her tantrums and cries of desperation and paranoia when most of us would lose patience. He would memorize all her medicines and their dosages and administration. He seemed like an expert in cancer already. He is a natural in taking care of people and perfectly fit for those healthcare industry jobs, at least for my mom's needs. He disregarded, well, postponed, his own health concerns just to take care of her.

Now, my mother's a little more hopeful with her condition. I am very positive she'll live a long life after this ordeal. I guess things happen when you believe.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Eric's Graduation Party

After Eric graduating with honors (from cancer), of course, there should be a celebration! It was not the typical food-and-drinks party, but it was what we truly enjoyed. We weren't dressed in fancy rocawear, but we're definitely dressed to have fun. =)


after playing beinte-uno

We were all enthusiastic playing beinte-uno. Eric could barely throw the ball a meter away from him, but he sure enjoyed trying to shoot that ball haha. He would also play defense whenever his Dikong Eduard has the ball. Interestingly, he never put down the rubix cube while we were playing ball. He kept on showing it to me throughout the game, in a super excited manner, though he never really formed a pattern. haha.


Eric and Eduard in the slide

After playing in the basketball court, we proceeded to the playground. At first, I was afraid Eric might fall while climbing the stairs of the slide, but he was really energetic and climbed up and slid down numerous times nonstop. He also enjoyed the photo-op in the playground. =)

We only stopped playing after we were already too tired and hungry, and after it had become truly a day to remember.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

with honors

Didn't we all look forward to our graduation? First, it was because it meant end of our tests and hardships in school. Second, and most especially, it was because it was a step further toward our goal, presumably a comfortable, blessed life.

And that was what precisely, and with much more meaning, what happened yesterday. Yesterday, the Philippine Children's Medical Center held a celebration for the children who succesfully finished all the chemotherapy sessions and other treatments. Eric graduated, not from school, but from being a cancer patient. He has surpassed all those intravenous treatments and awfully painful bone marrow tests. He has passed the stage of not being able to walk and eat and talk. In that hospital of metal building and then seemingly lonely walls, along the way, many children did not make it. One day, you just see them playing just beside Eric's bed; the next day, they're gone. Thankfully, because Eric is a fighter, with an iron will of a child to go on, he survived his leukemia. He was diagnosed when he was 4; now he was 7 and very active.

When he arrived in my place, he was really excited to show me all the gifts he got from the people and foundations who supported these kids with cancer, along with actors, singers, and politicians. He got two bags of toys and school stuff and waited for me before he would open his huge gift-wrapped box (inside was an educational toy). But he was super proud when he showed me perhaps his most precious gift of all...to all of us.



Graduating with honors, I am pretty sure Eric will have a more comfortable, blessed life. =)

Thursday, December 2, 2010

crazy about Keng

Every year, kuyang and her wife and lovely, lovely child go home for Christmas from Qatar. Since the start of the year, we have always been dreaming of my niece Keng's return. She's that little girl from my stories of Christmas last year who makes my heart melt when she smiles.

She's only 3, but she's a big girl. And dresses for a 5-year-old no longer fit her. haha. She embraces you when she thinks you are mad at her, and she steals kisses from youjust because she wants to. She's very sweet. She's very active though, running around everywhere! She's curious about everything, even how to pop a pimple from my face! And if you really follow her around, you'll be racing for breath in no time.

All year-round, my father and I talk of her. My father is crazy about her. He actually is the one who can make her sleep, and sometimes she sleeps for the night beside my father when kuyang and his wife would go out at night. He prepares her milk. He also prepares her bath in our big drum so she could swim there. haha. Of all of us, he is the most patient with her. He can make her giggle hard. When Keng was with other relatives, my father would wait for her, sometimes asking me to check if she has already come back home to our house. It makes me smile looking at them, remembering that father also did all that to me when I was a child.

Now she's coming back home. And I can't wait to kiss her, and hug her, and carry her, and play with her. And my father is doubly excited.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

For Your Birthday, Mother

Dear Mother,

For your birthday, I only wish for your strength. I know these are really tough times for the family, especially for you. But you have always been the strong one. You have a dominant personality that we repel, and yet this time, I truly hope you be that imposing woman again. Tell your cancer cells to go away, and I bet it would.

For your birthday, I only wish for your peace of mind. The storm is passing in our lives, but as all storms, this one shall pass. Know that in all these things, I am with you. Daddy is with you. Lola is with you. Mama is with you. And the kids have always been praying for you. We love you, and there is nothing more we want, nothing more, than for you to get well. I know all these plasil, and emodan, and conjugated linoleic acid, and norvasc, and a whole range of medicines are making you nauseous, but Mommy, just a little more. I would take these all for you if I could, but I couldn't. So just a little more. Know in your heart that you will be healed. And that there is someone in the stars guiding our lives.

For your birthday, I only wish for your understanding and acceptance. It must be really hard to accept that an illness as serious as this one comes to you. But it's already there, and there is not much we can do but to fight this one. Know that in all your struggles, this one and all that will come, I am with you. Daddy is with you. Lola is with you. Mama is with you. And the kids have always been praying for you. There must be a reason, Mother. Look inside, there must be. After this fight, we're going to face a better life---the best life I can give for all of you.

And for your birthday, Mother, I wish you could have a better daughter. I know I am the cold one, and I wish I could just give you this letter. I wonder why I could tell everyone I care, when I could not tell it to you. For now, I just hope that through my actions, I can let you know that I too am scared, that I love you, and that I will always be here for you. I know somehow you can see it, and you know it, but I still hope I could be a better daughter for you.

Happy birthday, Mother.


Love,
Anak

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

My Harry Potter Scar

About 7 years ago, I was in a vehicular accident. I hit the windshield with my head, and well, both the windshield and my head didn't totally break. I guess we can call it a tie. Fortunately, in the hospital where I was immediately rushed, there was a cosmetic surgeon who sutured the wound in my head, using a hairstrand-thin strand to close up th wound. I think he did a fairly good job because the scar isn't as noticeable as it's supposed to. Still, to this day, I still have that long scar in the middle of my forehead, much like Harry Potter's.

Oftentimes, people do not notice this scar. I still get surprised whenever a friend I have known for several years would suddenly remark one day, "Oh, you have a scar in the forehead!" The place where my scar is located is rather conspicuous, and I do not know why some people would not readily notice, until I point it out to them.

But my grandmother never forgot about this scar. From the moment I had this, she insisted on me undergoing a plastic surgery, which I vehemently refused. Always, she was the one concerned with how I look. Back in college, she was the first person who took me to the derma and bought that expensive acne scar removal cream for me. She's also the one who buys all those Eskinol for Men for my male cousins during their teenaged years.

Up to now, I am quite comfortable with my scar and believe that it is already of part of me and my character. I never really harbored any anger toward that drunk driver who suddenly hit my car head-on. I took the accident rather coolly. Perhaps it's a symbol of how I survived figuratively and metaphorically, much like the baby Harry Potter survived Voldemort's attacks. As for my grandmother, she still feels sad every time she sees the scar that fate brought me. It feels like it hurt her more than it hurt me.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

the dilemma of a weak heart

Last night was eventful in my life.

It led me to the understanding of what I already knew -- it is hard to cure a weak heart. Of course, the constantly improving fields of medicine and technology as well as industrial bearings promise cure for a weak body, or if improbable, at least alleviation of pain. But what can cure a weak heart? The constant support of people doesn't quite help as much as valium does in sleeping problems (although valium sometimes "helps" in handling pain). The companionship does not quite help treat loneliness as much as arcoxia relieves pain, albeit temporarily. Faith isn't easily infused in one's being as easily as blood is infused in one's body.

The trial in one's sickness is as much the suffering of the body as it is the suffering of the heart. But in both body and heart, although hard, there is nothing much left to do but to have continuous "medication" and "treatment" ("the fight") and of course, prayers for the body and the heart. Lots and lots of prayers.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

where my dreams began

This is the story of a man I've never even met and the story where my dream began.

After 30 years of “living” in my father's wallet, a slightly tattered news clippings about my grandfather, Lolo Pasyo, was shown to me by my father. I only know him through little stories from my father as Lolo Pasyo died even before my father met my mother. But stories will never suffice, and there's a missing spot in me that will never be filled.

My father said that Lolo Pasyo was the silent type. My grandmother was a beautiful maiden, and I wonder how sweet or stiff their courtship was. Together, they raised all their children to be, the perfect word, respectful. My father never raised a voice to my grandmother and always comes immediately when called by her. He always acquiesce to her request and oftentimes remember her. I could only assume that this great respect came from the much respect Lolo Pasyo gave his wife.

Father told me that his father was a disciplinarian. He never tolerated any mischievous activity from his 8 sons and 4 daughters and never used influence for favors. This is not to say that the boys never did any naughty acts. They did, but did everything not to let their father know. For Lolo Pasyo, any “bad” behavior must never go unpunished.

My grandfather was a US veteran. I am sure that my grandfather deserved every penny of the pension he and his wife were supposed to be entitled to. Ingrates. After the army, he held several government positions, most of which I only knew from reading the newspaper.



Please click image to enlarge and read Lolo Pasyo's contribution to society.

His last post was a Punong Bayan, now known as Mayor, before he died of leukemia. As a child, I asked my father why they were not wealthy if Lolo Pasyo was a mayor. I already had a concept of government officials then. He told me that Lolo Pasyo was never corrupt, unlike most people. Their family barely have enough, with Lolo Pasyo sometimes giving his salary to the “needy” constituents. He was a straight man. While studying, my father and some of his other siblings had to stay at relatives' house as they could not afford to rent a house of their own while staying here in Manila. My father's aunt wanted to take him and sustain his education, but he opted to stay in the province after a year in Manila. My father even had to work abroad to earn a living. These, I think, would not have happened if Lolo Pasyo had “manipulated” government funds, which is commonplace nowadays. Lolo Pasyo has successfully imbibed in his children the value of honesty and responsibility, not one of them ever been involved in a scandalous behavior.

Knowing that I came from a line of a brave and honest man, I felt inspired to be someone like him. Only one of his sons joined politics, whereas one daughter became a DECS (now DepEd) official. My aunt already died of cancer, but the stories of colleagues of how straight she was and how she often rejected bribes warm my heart, something he learned from his father.

My father told me that he was highly respected in their community. And the respect for him translated to respect for the family's name and for the family. No ordinary man can do that. Even after 30 years since he died, I still hear stories of him from their neighbors and friends.

I formulated my dreams as a kid, and writing this now made me think that his legacy might have influenced me. He was everything I want to be: a leader, a public servant, and an honest person.

It saddens me that I can tell you about him only through my father's stories and person. But I hope that the message of his people would be enough to show you how proud I am to be this silent man's granddaughter: