A Sad Day Indeed

Just got a text from my cousin. She informed me that my grandma, the one who raised me, took care of me and supported me throughout my life, died this morning.

I am in a state of disbelief, yet, something in me, accepted that already. She's already eighty plus years old. Death is an inevitable consequence of existence. The clock of life starts to tick towards death the very nano-second of birth.

Anastacia Soyosa Magallanes is the name of my grandma. She was born in the barangay of Tanauan, in the City of Tacloban, Leyte. She met my grandfather during World War II and they got married. Their first born was a girl named Rosalinda. My mother was the first of ten children. While I was the first of many grandchildren.

As the first grandchild, my life was pretty good. My grandma raised me since I was a child until I reached college. We were pretty close. We share practically everything.

She was a strict Catholic, that's why I always attend Church, go to Black Mary's on Fridays and became active in Church activities. At the age of six, I already finished reading the entire bible. I have at least six bibles in my little library.

I nearly became a priest under the Oblates of Mary Immaculate (OMI). I passed the exams given by the priest with flying colors and started to prepare myself for the week-long seminary when I saw my UPCAT scores. My grandma told me to go to UP.

It was in UP that we slowly became detached, since I became active in student politics and the rigorous grind of academic life. Ever so slowly, those strong ties became weaker until we did not see each other anymore for weeks, months, then years.

When she went to Australia, I vividly remember how I tried very hard to reach the airport just to see her. I came from UP and rode a bus going to NAIA. It was raining. Traffic just started to grind ever so slowly. I looked at the clock and saw that it was just a few minutes before her embarkation. I alighted from the bus and started to run as fast as I can. When I reached the corner of EDSA and South Super, I rode a jeepney going to the airport.

I arrived a few minutes before she entered the immigration area. It was so frustrating that I cried. I will never, ever see my grandma again, I told myself. I need to be strong.

Last December, I got news that she tripped when she tried to go to the toilet. She was rushed to the Makati Medical Center. We spent Christmas together and she was the very first person I saw and greeted Happy New Year. After that, she was operated upon and I was not there. She recovered very well. Yet, I sensed that this is the start of her deterioration since she's not accustomed to being in bed everytime.

When my cousin texted me that nanay (I call my grandma that) wanted to see everyone because she wanted to celebrate her recovery, I asked my cousin why. It was not good texting everyone that. My grandma is still strong, to my estimation, and probably I'll be first to go before her. When I was a teenager, I asked God that I be given the chance to die first before my nanay.

I went to the celebration. I saw my Nanay, still strong, yet she always want to sleep. When she woke up, we talked and I always make sure that I put a smile on her face. She always laugh when she's with me. She touched my hand and said "thank you." Flashback---this was also the same way my grandfather passed away. I ignored that. I told myself that my nanay will live longer pa.

I don't want to see my nanay always in bed. Yet, her body is weak but I sensed that her spirit is strong and refreshed. She's at peace with God. I'll pray for her. Yet, I'll ask God why He never granted my wish not to see my nanay in a coffin.

I'm still here, at home, blogging. Just got word that she died. I'm not crying. No tears. I told myself, death is a gift from God. It is time to go. Time to spend eternity with the Creator. Time to rest in that perfumed garden God prepared to those who believe in Him.

I will miss my nanay. It is a sad day indeed.