Lineage.

If you are fortunate, you will go on a trip that will amaze you and change you.  This past trip to the Philippines did just that.

The reason I went was a tragic one, but it was healing to be there.  My grandma's wake was my first Filipino wake and I have to say that I much prefer Filipino wakes to North American ones, especially if it is the loss of a dearly loved family member.  A North American one is too short - it is usually one extremely sad day of saying goodbye, with the burial usually right afterwards.

When my grandpa on my mother's side passed away, I wasn't able to go.  His wake went on for 8 days at his house.  There were many visitors and a lot of food.  His body was never alone.  

My grandma (dad's side) passed away on a Thursday.  I booked a flight for Saturday and landed in the Philippines on Sunday evening.  I still got to see my grandma for the days until her burial on Wednesday. Of course at first when my parents and I encountered her coffin, the grief was overwhelming.  

But the titos and titas were there.  Her good friends were there.  My cousins were there.  There was plenty of conversation and food (you know how Filipinos roll).  Blood is indeed thick - I felt at ease and comforted instantly by these relatives who I am half a world away from 99% of the time.  I eventually accepted that my grandma's body was there with us, so that we could celebrate her life and say goodbye in the next few days.  One of my uncles even slept at the funeral home.  My grandma was never alone.  And she looked so pretty and peaceful in the coffin - like she was simply asleep.

Last but not least, there were beautiful pictures of my grandma.  This, combined with the conversations, enlightened me with much about my grandma's life.  When I was growing up, Nanay Carmen was a gentle presence in my life.  Her laugh was gentle and even her scolding was gentle.  Her faith in the Roman Catholic church was an unwavering behemoth though, and we all never doubted it, not even once.  So to me, she was always a sweet, elegant lady who always went to church.  

After this trip, I now realize that Nanay Carmen was gentle but she was resourceful and tough too.  Her life was not easy.  She had to raise ten kids on her own without much support, or a career (as a woman in her 30's I cannot even begin to fathom that).  

In her late forties, she was determined to go back to school and get her degree. And she did, despite being a single mom of ten.  Her graduation picture was at the wake, right beside a more recent picture of her in her 90's (see how lovely she stayed?):

I also saw for the very first time pictures of Nanay Carmen as a little girl!  This was my favourite:

I learned that religious devotion ran in her father's bloodline, which produced numerous priests.  

I learned that she willingly wanted to be raised in the convent when she was older (I always assumed she was hidden there like other Filipinas to spare them from Japanese soldier rapists during the war).  She was already devoted to the Catholic faith at an age when most well-to-do young women are thinking of fashion and boys.

It was a nun from that convent that introduced my Nanay Carmen to her future husband, Rafael.  

Here is where my mind gets blown away.  

Let's fast forward past beautiful scenery, heat, many relatives, delicious food ... and even sad Third World reminders like begging children and caged dogs ... 

At the funeral, I met Lola Lita and her daughter, who were kind enough to invite me to Lola Lita's house in Dagupan and also take me out to dinner and tell me stories and show me pictures of my Garcia lineage.  Lola Lita is the baby sister of my late grandpa (Rafael).  I ended up seeing a picture of the very nun who introduced my Nanay Carmen to Rafael at Lola Lita's house:

The nun is the lady to the right of the matriarch.  That matriarch in the center, that lady with the white hair, is the nun's mother.  The man to the left of the matriarch is her son, who is my great-great grandpa.  Yup, that matriarch is my great-great-great grandmother!  I can't get over the precious gift of seeing a picture like this.     

The icing on the cake?  The man to the left of the matriarch married a Mercado (my great-great grandma) who was FRIGGIN RELATED TO JOSE RIZAL - NATIONAL HERO OF THE PHILIPPINES. 

AND I JUST READ HIS BOOKS LAST YEAR.  To find out I am linked to this man - a doctor who was shot for writing novels that moved the Filipinos against their Spaniard colonizers - is overwhelmingly incredible.

Closer to me on the family tree are my grandpa's brothers, one of whom was assasinated for writing articles that exposed corruption.  One played the violin.  Lola Lita played the piano.  Doctors, writers, musicians.  Lola Lita's daughter still competes in ballroom and she is probably at least in her mid-50's (and doesn't look it at all).  

I remember visiting my grandpa in Vermont before he died, while he was sick.  A lightbulb went off in my head when I saw his beautiful library, where books were organized by section.  Books and books and books!  I realize now that I can't help but be a bookworm and I can't help urges to write ... it's in the blood :)  

I also got to spend a bit of time with my mom's younger brother's family and visit my grandpa's grave.  My mom's side is full of music in the form of self-taught musicians and singers.  I discovered on this trip that mom even taught herself (and my tito, her younger brother) to play guitar.  It was great to sit in my tito's house and listen to him and my mom sing and play guitar.  If you go further back, my grandpa's siblings wrote and performed their own street plays.  

Here is my grandpa and his favourite and homemade banjo (which is currently kept at my tito's house):

It is bittersweet to look at pics like this.  I didn't get to know my grandpa (mom's side) as well as I should have - it was too dangerous to visit him in Mindanao when I was a kid - but I do have one faint childhood memory of him:  I remember sitting on his knee and him laughing and smiling.   If only I got to know him more and not just through mom's colourful childhood stories, which still make her teary-eyed.

My enjoyment of dance and performance and sometimes a-bit-too-carefree-attitude definitely comes from him :)  

I should get to bed ... I could think about this and look at pictures for hours, just wondering about which bits and pieces of these amazing people have carried on in me.  

Rest in Peace lolos and lolas, great lolos and great lolas, great-great lolos and great-great lolas ...

Thanks for making me me.

Well Hello Again Makati.

My uncle was kind enough to book us a hotel room with a nice view of Makati:

I had fresh fruits for breakfast (mmm ... mango) and I feel pretty well-rested.  Not feeling jet lagged at all!  It helps that I am comatose on planes.  

Landing in the Manila airport was a better experience than ten years ago.  I was able to refuse help and insist on taking my luggage by myself.  A decade ago I was like a deer in headlights as luggage handlers fought and even punched each other to carry my luggage.  

There was a SUPER SNOTTY woman though.  Not to me, but to the poor customs guy.  She thought she was too good to fill out her customs form (even though the flight attendants on the plane re-iterated numerous times that we had to fill out our customs forms which were handed out to us) and became extremely rude when he told her to fill one out.  She must've thought that as a Filipina with a different passport (she was in the "foreign passport" line up with me) she was entitled to do whatever the hell she wanted.  I saw the form she gave him at the end and it was still only half-assed filled out.  He was nice enough to say "please ma'am fill it out properly next time" and she walked away in a huff with her nose in the air.  This was one of those moments where it would've been nice to bypass the "respect-your-elders" rule. 

I guess she had some warped hierarchy in her head where she was above local Filipinos.  Ugh.  People like that are something else.  I would like to see her try and do that to a Canadian customs officer.

In an hour, one of my cousins will be picking us up to meet with everyone else. The circumstances are tragic, but I am excited to see everyone again and reminisce about Nanay Carmen.  It'll be interesting to see the traffic.  Last night when my uncle and aunt picked us up, the traffic was not too bad at all.  They said it was because everyone was in mourning over Pacquiao's loss to Mayweather.

A Squirt of Happy.

I'm currently at the Seattle airport en route to the Philippines (man, Seattle seems colder than Edmonton right now!).  

While I was still in the security line up at US customs in Edmonton, I had a squishy warm fuzzy happy moment of comfort.  There was a really sweet lady in front of me and she was taking longer than average to open her bag so I started to wonder.  She pulled out a 9 week old golden retriever puppy and I completely melted.  It was a little female named Violet and she curled up right under that lady's chin like a baby.  

I was obviously gushing over little Violet because the lady LET ME HOLD THE FLUFFY GOLDEN BUNDLE OF JOY ADFAD;FKJ;WLDJL;ADSKNVLKADSN  AND IT CURLED UP RIGHT INTO MY NECK LIKE A LITTLE BABY and I melted into smithereens.  

Just imagine this snuggling up under your chin (photo from till.com - I wanted to take a pic of Violet so bad but I'm fairly sure that's a no-no in US customs):

It's almost too much loveable cuteness to handle.  It was the best thing that's ever happened to me in security.  

Again, maybe I'm making something out of nothing but I would like to think that it was Nanay Carmen sending me a moment of comfort via her and my favourite form of four-legged fur baby.

Thanks Nanay :)  I love you too.

R.I.P. Nanay Carmen

While mooching off my parents' Costco membership last weekend, I randomly grabbed a book called The Divinity of Dogs at Costco.  I read it this past week and ended up crying like a baby for pretty much every dog story.  I was surprised at how much I feeling, and just assumed that it was because I adopted my first rescue dog and so am now that much more sensitive to stories of dogs that have been mistreated.

Little did I know that my grandma was in the hospital at that time.  Yesterday morning I found out she was in the ICU.  I thought she would pull through but I still googled flights to the Philppines thinking that I should visit her sometime soon.  She seemed so strong and healthy when I talked to her over the phone just this March (her 93rd birthday).  We laughed about my "Tag-lish."  I told her I wanted to visit her next year (it really hurts to remember how sure and eager I was).

At around 5pm I found out that she passed away from pneumonia complications.  Total devastation.  I quickly left work to go to my parents so I could be there for my dad.  We decided to book flights to the Philippines in order to make the funeral.  My sis would have to stay because of school, but my parents and I were going to go for sure.  Because I already looked at flights earlier, I was able to get it done quickly despite my zombie state.

Later on my mom forwarded an email from my uncle.  Turns out Nanay Carmen was starting to show signs of "wanting to rest."  Most of her close girlfriends were gone except her.  She wasn't eating as much.  And when her dog Peachie (a streetdog she adopted) passed away suddenly, my uncle describes this grief as the "tipping point."  I was back to crying like a baby when I read this part.  Something clicked inside me.

I can't help but feel that I was so affected by that book not only because of the amazing stories of dogs that might have been killed or abandoned but instead go on to save lives, but also because of what was happening half a world away with the beloved matriarch of the Garcia family.  And now my bags are packed and I will be leaving for the airport in less than two hours.  

Rest in Peace, Nanay Carmen.  I miss you.