Lola's failing memory

Yesterday, we went to Bayanan, Bacoor, Cavite, the place of most of my mother's youth, to celebrate the 93rd Birthday of Lola Kikay. Unfortunately, Ate Nadia wasn't able to come with us since she had two exams on that day. At first, I didn't want to come along, reasoning out that my relative in Cavite wouldn't be able to notice my absence and that I have no friends or buddies there. But my mother didn't give up on me and countered I do indeed get their attention for not being there and that Lola will not live long enough for another birthday celebration. And so, I gave in to my dear mother's request. We readied ourselves for departure. We left the apartment at around 4:18 in the afternoon in the middle of alternating rain and mild drizzles. My father went to another street, probably to Boni Serrano (formerly Santolan) Avenue to greatly increase the probability of our being able to get a taxi immediately. After being caught up in numerous traffic jams and making another wise bad decision of rerouting (changing route or way), we finally reached our destination, the house of my grandparents in Cavite. At about 6:15 P.M., Papa paid the taxi driver a whopping and may I comment, an undeserved 400 pesos. Not contented with their generosity, my parents offered the taxi cab Nixy's driver to eat at the place, which offered food, buffet-style. We ate to our hearts' content. My mother reminded me of my foolish saying, "Food equals happiness." During the merrymaking, my father asked me to take the blessing of my older relatives there. Of the five people Papa told me to get blessings from, I only managed to get the blessings of Aunt Mila, Lola Kikay, and Uncle Mario. I failed to get the blessings of others, including Aunts Ester and Rita. Maybe the situation was awkward or I just felt I didn't want to be blessed, or both. And so some of my time there was alone was spent on reflecting about the necessity, significance, and logic of receiving older people's blessings. No doubt, I should be looking into this whenever time does permit me to do so. going back to the event, after the pastor arrived and got himself ready for the mass or what my mother more appropriately called a *she, herself forgot the term here*, ceremony began. It was what I called a mass of goodwill for one's birthday. We listened to the bible reading. It told us that it is we who form Jesus. We are parts with different functions; we are equally important. We live and function in different ways but for one end. Whatever that end may be, it is we who decide. Then the pastor gave out a mediocre sermon to which my mother commented that the pastor wasn't fully prepared. To summarize his cheap talk, he lauded our gallant efforts of celebrating our dear old lady's birthday and asserted that we would be very lucky to be able to achieve a feat such as reaching one's 93rd birthday. Toward the end of the 'mass', the pastor asked the children to receive lola's blessings one by one, though in a not so orderly fashion. When our time came, I lazily went in front of my lola. The night was good until then, but all this suddenly changed when my mother asked lola if she still do recognize me. After trying to remember (may it be to the best of her ability or not), she gave a cold reply: "No." or something like that in Tagalog. I can't or choose not to remember anymore the exact words. The night was still good, but not as good as before she uttered those words. Even though I feel that I do deserve her poor memory for not going to her place as often as I could. Still, I can't take it lightly. It just made me think how I could have been devastated if the person who forgot me was part of my nuclear family. As the moon soared higher into the sky, the cotillion (some kind of dance for a lady's debut or 18th birthday) was presented. Before, I thought that I would be able to escape viewing my cousin Ranya's debut. Not quite. I was able to get a glimpse of it, partly through a purported request of lola for them to perform a repeat. Sigh. Before we left, I'd like to tell you of my mother's grand ability and for which I readily tell anybody that she is the best mommy. And what is this? It is her capability to bring home huge amounts of food, especially from a relative celebration of a memorable event. She had many clear plastic containers with her for the various food types she expected to be given. These include kare-kare, lumpiang shanghai, kalamay, spaghetti, chocolate, leche flan, etc. Would you imagine that?! Only the pastor reportedly got more, with a sample from every foodstuff that there was. And so we went home and as I do remember, we didn't tell anyone that we were leaving. We rode a jeepney to Baclaran. According to the driver's aide, the fare from our starting point to our destination was 16 pesos per person. My father gave her a 100-peso bill; we should have received a change of 52 pesos instead of 54 pesos. My parents did not correct the woman about the mistake. I, too. Tsk, tsk. Maybe it was a sheer case of laziness or my father thought of it as a form of senior citizen or student discount that we should have availed ourselves, which we didn't do. Probably, it's because also of that same dull dose of laziness. Humph. At Baclaran, we rode a taxi all the way to our house in Cubao, Quezon City. When we got home, Ate Nadia was allegedly sleeping but when the hour of Pinoy Big Brother came, we all witnessed Sam's visitor. Good day.

End: 12:34 A.M. of 7 November 2005