By: THESA ANOBA DAYAGBIL
My grandmother died a few days ago in the Philippines. She was 90 years old.
Like any grandchild who adores and loves her grandmother deeply, I took the news very badly. More so because I am here in Canada and I wasn’t there to whisper in her ear one last time how much I love her.
For many years, my grandmother was a pillar of strength to her three children. My grandfather died early on. Alcohol took the better of him. Although Lola Puri, as we fondly called our grandmother, had a meager salary as a teacher, she managed to raise her children and give them proper education on her own.
That pillar grew stronger as she gained nine grandchildren. Each of us was able to experience tough love from her. During assignments, she would treat us like her own students. A typical old school teacher, she was strict and firm and had a stern voice that commanded utmost respect and instilled fear in us at the same time. She used to bring us to school if our parents can’t do so due to other commitments. Once in a while she would attend PTA meetings and other school activities. And yes, the bedtime stories she read to us always had moral lessons that she was sure we can use in life.
As we all grew up, we looked at those “homework times with Lola Puri” as our rite of passage to adulthood. It was that kind of love that molded us into who we are right now. And right from the start, I always thought that I wanted to return that favor back in any possible way I could.
It was only five years ago that her memory started to falter. From a sharp-minded feisty lady she transformed into another person who was seemingly lost in her own world. When I visited her two years ago, it was so disheartening to be with her yet she was not there anymore. Whether it was dementia, senility or Alzheimer’s Disease, it definitely took our Lola Puri slowly away from us.
When I moved my family here in Canada, one of my fervent wishes was to save money so I can take my grandmother to a nice place where she has not gone before. Finally, I was able to bring her to a resort in Bohol but her mind was just somewhere else. I felt that I was too late with my “payback time” for her. Sometimes I thought if she even knew who she was with or where she was at that time. I took a picture of her sitting on a quaint bench in front of the resort, looking at a distance. She was so near to me, yet so far.
We all knew that her memory loss was getting worse each day but she was still unbelievably in the pink of health. She did slip once and had a bone fracture. She was also hospitalized twice for high fever and just needed to take some supplements. She may have looked frail and had to walk around with crutches, but, otherwise, she was perfectly fine.
In short, our little old lady was as strong and brave as can be. Then one day, she had another bone fracture somewhere in her groin. She would faint even at the slightest movement due to extreme pain. We were made to decide between a surgery that would entail putting plates on her to correct the fracture or take her back home and have her stay in bed for three to four months until the bone heals on its own, so we were told. However, if she was to be bedridden for quite some time, it could result to some more health problems. She could be back in the hospital in a nick of time.
It was really a no-win situation for us. It was like a damn-if-you-do and damn-if-you- don’t type of thing. We opted for the surgery even though we were so worried if her frail body could further take it.
But then she contracted pneumonia. And since her fracture was not treated right away, she also developed blood clots. I had to rant on and on and lambast the healthcare system in the Philippines. Why were these overlooked and not even checked right away? And what about any scans for possible blood clots? It even took a while for them to do the blood transfusion.
Next thing we knew, she got worse and went to a comatose state. Her vital signs were going up and down. My cousin in the United States of America attributed it to her healthy system struggling for her dear life. I just think it was the fighter in her that still wanted to survive.
Then she drew her last breath.
Maybe God thought that taking her would ease her pain. That somehow, if she had undergone that surgery, she would have not survived the operation at all.
And yet I wonder if thinking that way makes her death easier to accept. If by saying she is in a better place right now would make the pain go away. And what good does the phrase “things happen for a reason” do to fill in the void? Why do we even live then love people and lose them sooner or later in the end?
One of the stalwarts in Philippine show business once said that she has maintained a distance from her only son who is all grown up and well-established and has a family of his own already. She reasoned out that it is best this way so neither she nor her son would feel so much pain if ever either of them loses the other.
Before, I could not understand why a mother would do or say this. Why would a mother even put a barrier between her and her child? I then realized that the pain of losing someone is too great that other people know they can’t simply bear it.
However, as I am grieving and still going through the motions before I can even move on, memories I had with my grandmother kept playing in my mind… like scenes from a silent movie popping out from the recesses of my brain. Then it dawned on me that I have tons of these memories that I can keep for the rest of my life.
That is what matters most. That even if the hole that the loss has bored in my heart is eating me up, I will still forever carry with me the warmth I felt when I was with her, the strength that enveloped me when I felt weak, the knowledge she imparted when I knew little of this world, the tender love that made me feel safe.
And these translate into stories I can pass on to my children and hopefully my grandchildren… stories about my grandmother’s courage and perseverance, patience and humility, wisdom and understanding, unselfish love and devotion, and strength and stability.
Because of all of these, I would still prefer to have loved my grandmother and lose her than not having loved her at all.
Thank you Lola Puri for the many treasured moments. Although I will miss you terribly, I know I can make it through this transition to finally accepting you are not with us in this world anymore because I carry these many wonderful memories I had with you every single day.
Rest in peace Lola.