Ninong Mete?

Wakes and funerals are solemn occasions that make us pause to give
respect to those who have gone on ahead of us. But what if it turns
out to be the opposite?
       With All Saints Day coming up, I'm sure that most of us are preparing
to honor the dead. Here are a few snippets that really happened and
how they  so reflect the humor that can seep into the solemnest of
occasions and make them so vividly Pinoy.
       When My Lola Esyang (my dad's lola) died, we all trooped to Paniqui,
Tarlac for the funeral. I was a second year high school student then
and was quite transfixed by the events -- the crying, the rituals, the
beliefs, the stories. Still, I couldn't help feeling a little stifled
by it all until the funeral itself. My Lola Juanita (my lolo's eldest
sister) was quite bereft with grief and for the past days could do
nothing but cry. The funeral itself was no exception -- oh how she
cried, oh how loudly she wailed! When we got to the cemetery, her
tears grew even louder and she began to shout in earnest, "Inda, tuki
nyo ko, tuki nyo ko! (Mother, take me with you, take me with you!),"
growing more frenetic by the minute. My Lola Maria, who was standing
behind her and trying to hold her back, was making soothing noises to
calm her down. Still Lola Juanita continued to wail, until finally my
Lola Maria could no longer contain herself and pushed her slightly
toward the grave, "O tuki na ka! (Go with her then!)" Finally, we had
some peace and quiet.
        I'm sure you're well aware of the Pinoy's tendency to cry in front
of the coffin, right? Well, Ned's lola and her siblings were simply
unconsolable at his lolo's wake and stood there in front of the coffin
weeping and wailing at their loss. Nothing it seemed could stop their
tears until another sooo Pinoy tradition did. "O, picture!" someone
shouted. Guess what the three did? Stood up straight, stopped crying
before saying, "Teka! Teka!," fixed their hair and their faces and
smiled for posterity...
       And finally, another of Ned's lolos could be heard crying as he
arrived for the wake. From the kanto to the entrance of the church,
how loudly he sobbed. As he slowly made his way to where the coffin
was he continued crying non-stop until he reached it, stopped
abruptly, turned his head then asked, "Nino'ng mete? (who died?)"
       Classic Pinoy.

Lolo Inggo

My lolo died one April, a few days short of my grandparents" 50th wedding anniversary. It was so sudden it took us all by surprise. Though many years have passed, the pain of losing him still hurts...

I dreamt of my Lolo Inggo last night. In my dream, he was his robust old self and just rarin' to see his latest apo (supposedly my newborn daughter). I woke up very happy because that's the only way I get to see him now -- in my dreams.


Inggo was my first grandparent to pass away and it hit me really bad. He was the one closest to me in proximity (we were next-door neighbors) but he was the one farthest from me emotionally. A little on the strict side, he was not very showy in his affections. Still, I knew he loved me in his gruff kind of way.


When he died, I couldn't get over the fact that he was no longer there, that my lolo just ceased to exist. That he wouldn't be there waiting for me at the kanto or by his window when I came home late at night. That I would no longer hear the kalampag of the sandok as he fried rice for my Lola Maria. That he would no longer exchange giggles or tease her unmercifully. And belatedly, I realized I also never told him how much he meant to me.


Until that day, I just assumed that my grandparents would be there forever. Boy, was I in for a rude awakening. When I anaylze things now, however, it seemed that my grandparents waited for major events -- graduation, wedding, the birthdays of their apo sa tuhod-- in my life and shared them with me before they left me. It was as if they were creating positive memories and I reveled in them and made sure they realized how I treasured their love and presence.


But no matter how fond the memories are, there will always be regrets -- that you cannot hold or touch or hug them ever again.


So while we go out and contemplate how Christ died for us, remember also our dear departed ones and don't forget the ones who are still alive and a part of your lives. Spare them a hug, shower them with kisses. Better still, tell them you love them a lot. Good memories start this way...