March 31, 2015
Three nights ago, I missed Lola so much that I cried. I cried so hard because I’m wondering why Lola’s death never kicked in. Hindi pa rin siya nagsisink in. I remember when Lolo died, and my sisters will agree with me, that it was a terrible night. We were not expecting that that night would be Lolo’s last here on earth. When Lola died, I felt more relieved than sad. Relieved, that finally, she will feel no more pain. Relieved, that finally, she will no longer eat through a tube. Relieved, that finally, we will no longer think if the white spots on her lungs are cancer. Relieved, that she will no longer have a hard time breathing. Relieved. That was what I felt.
Now, the sadness comes to me every night, every day. Before I go to work, I pray the rosary and I imagine her leading me. My heart breaks even more everytime I remember how soft her cheeks and arms were, how nice she smelled even though she barely, rarely took a bath. How sweet her smiles were and how YOLO were here laughs. I feel sad that I lost my chance. My chance to take care of her, to love her and to buy her more pajamas. I lost my chance to play mahjong with her, stay up late with her and accompany her to the CR when she needs to pee. I lost my chance to buy her Hopiang Baboy from Goldilocks or broas as pasalubong. I lost my chance to teach her how to use Facebook and make the most out of her new tablet. I regret every day that I didn’t visit her. I regret every time I said ‘no’ to her. I regret every moment I felt angry at her because she’s very makulit. I regret all the things I never did for her. My Lola deserves nothing but the best of us, the best from us. But we failed to do that. I could’ve done more for her. I could’ve done everything for her. Truly, you wouldn’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.
But Lola, no matter how sad I get when I think of you, I am still always overwhelmed with your love. The way you ask me “andiyan na ba si Judy?” when I arrive home late and crawl to your bed. The way you would squeeze yourself in the hospital bed just to give more space for me. The way you would repeatedly ask if I’ve already eaten and if I would stay the night to play mahjong. The way you would insist that I should get married because “nasa tamang edad na” kami. The way you would give me the gifts you received for your birthday or during Christmas. The way you make me feel like I’m your favorite apo just because you don’t have a choice. I love you Lola. Your stories, your face, your antics, your fluffy arms. Your being caring, your being cute, and your being bingi. I miss everything about you.
No matter how sad I get when I think of you, I’m still happy that you are now with Lolo. I believe you’re happily playing mahjong together with the other Lolos and Lolas there. I believe you are cooking lechon and kinulob again for Lolo. I believe you are sleeping together again, after 5 years. I believe you are still having a few petty fights, because high blood si Lolo and mahina ang pandinig mo. I believe you are looking down on us, and still praying for us. I feel you and I think about you every day, Lola. I will never ever forget you.
It’s been forty days since I saw you breathe for the last time. God knows how much I want to see you breathe again.
My dearest maternal grandmother, Teresita Villaraza Calzada, peacefully passed away in her sleep last February 20, 2015. Rest in peace, Lola.