Today is my maternal grandmother's birthday. She passed away 4 years ago. I am remembering her and thought I'd repost an entry I wrote on her first death anniversary. I have been blessed to be able to enjoy ALL my grandparents, both from my Dad's and Mom's side. I believe that grandparents do a lot in shaping the lives of their grandchildren, mostly by creating memories that do indeed last long after their grandparents have passed on. My nephews and nieces are blessed beyond measure that they have my parents, their Gapa and Nama .

This post is quite long. Happy Birthday, Lola!

Lola Rita

"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge,I believe that myth is more potent than history,I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts,I believe that hope always triumphs over experience,I believe that laughter is the only cure for grief,and I believe that Love is stronger than death."-Robert Fulghum

It's been a year already since Lola passed away. Time flies so fast, I can't believe it's been that long already. There are days I find myself thinking of her, and missing her. Her laughter, her company, her recipes, watching tv with her, playing bingo, reading kislap magazines, making pasyal. I grew up close to my grandparents. Grandparents on both sides. I had a relationship with each one of them that defied age and generation gaps. I grew up with Lola, not living with her (in her house), but with her. All the summers of my life, I'd have numerous sleep overs at her house, and it would be such a blast! It was always a treat for me to have her stay with us for several weeks. Christmases, New years, Birthdays, Christenings...Lola was always there.

When I was a sagala in our local santacruzan, Lola made my gown. She lovingly and painstakingly created it from scratch. When I started 1st Grade, she sewed my uniforms. She was always present in all the important events, and she was always so proud to be there for us. When I was little, I stayed with her, for 10 days. I remember that was the first time I was away from my parents, alone, and on my own. She was still living in Sta. Ana, and the entire overnight experience was new to me. The sights, the sounds, the smells. I would look out from the sliding windows and feel I was so homesick, but she made it better. I would lay on her easychair and pretend to "know" how to play Mastermind. Lola taught me how to string beads of a rosary together. I would watch her as she made rosaries of all shapes, colours and sizes. She would give them away to her friends. We would walk to the nearby town plaza and because I'd accompany her to the market, she would buy me a small present every time. My favorites were the small beaded coin purses and tsinelas (slippers/flip-flops) she would buy for me. I'd have rubber slippers, beaded ones, open-toe, thongs, nets etc. Somehow I think lola inspired my love affair with tsinelas! In the mornings, we'd have breakfast together, taho and pandesal with Chiz Whiz. that I would dunk in 'coffee'. She would let me have a very weak coffee, just for the sake of. In the afternoons, we'd sleep siesta and when I woke up it was time for fishballs, barbeque and my favorite chicken mami which we would buy in Mang Ben's sari-sari store. She would buy me my chocolate gold coins, tarzan bubblegum and jojo candy.

As I grew up, she was always so proud when I would be chosen Class Muse or Mama Mary for the Christmas programme. After Lola moved to Pasig, whenever I'd visit,she would always remind me to lose weight. She would always request me to keep my hair long. She kept pictures of all her apos and I would often see her staring at the pictures. In the afternoons, after lunch and all her noon-time shows, she would nod off to sleep, in her chair. I'd tell her to come to the bed and lay down...to which she'd answer, "No...I'm just resting my eyes". I loved all those times I went to Lola's house, most of all because whenever we'd go there, it was always such a happy welcome we'd receive. I didn't realise it then but all the times I spent with her, I was making memories with her that would last me through, to when she would no longer there. I was never able to say the goodbye I wanted to say to her, and I will always regret this. I hope Lola understands and I hope she knows how much I love her. I remember her just as she was when she was all healthy and strong. When there was no confusion or sadness, anger, sickness, pain. I remember Lola's smile, her hugs, her kisses, how she calls all her apos "mahang", and most of all her laughter (bigay na bigay). She would always be so interested to hear all my kwento. When I moved to London, we would often talk on the phone, and her trademark question was "Kelan ka uuwi,boo? Sana sa Christmas, ano? Para sama-sama tayo".

When I came home after two years, that would have been the last Christmas I'd ever spend with her. Lola was sick already, with ventillators and oxygen tanks by her bed and tubes in her nose, but the moment I walked up to her bed, she recognised me and started to cry. This was not the Lola I remember. It was most difficult seeing my ever-independent Lola completely relying on nurses that would stay and watch her round-the-clock. I would sometimes go to her room and just sit with her. She'd be up all night, because of her medications and though restless, she would calm down a bit and start to talk. Saying things over and over again, but I somehow felt she was completely aware of what she was saying. So many things happened in between, so many issues, so much feuding, so much pain. For everyone. I left Manila with a promise that I would come back soon. I didn't keep my promise completely. I came back two months after, but Lola was gone. I remember, on the day she died, I called my mom very early, after being restless all night. She told me to talk to Lola, who was then already in ICU. She couldn't talk but she could hear me. I told my lola I loved her, that I would come home soon so wait for me... my mom said Lola was nodding her head. Little did I know that it would be my last ever 'conversation' with her. After a few hours, I got a call from my dad, Lola had passed away. It was one of the worst feelings in the world, to get that kind of call. It's like you expect it,at some point, but not really. Coming home to say my final goodbye was so hard. To this day I think about what could have been, had I been able to come home and say goodbye in person. Maybe I would have closure. I did get to see and hug her one last time, and I did get to bury her. But somehow I feel incomplete.

It's been a year already. I still miss my lola's yemas. Our meals together in her home with her home-made burgers, her croquettas, our quality time together, walking to Urambo, making pasyal to megamall and shagri-la...and when she'd be staying with us, to Phase 1.

Lola taught me to read. I will always be grateful to her for introducing me to the world of books. "Run, Tagpi, Run" and all those afternoons playing bingo in the terrace will forever be etched in my memory.

I love you, Lola. And I miss you terribly.