May 30, my parents’ wedding anniversary, a date on the calendar we still celebrate, seven years after Tatay has passed on. In my mind—in my family’s mind—Tatay’s memory is alive. We speak about him, in random circumstances. Over dinner, for example. And my faith tells me: he is alive, in the fellowship of saints in heaven, laughing and singing and feasting and supremely enjoying the presence of God. I imagine him looking down, saying, “Dali na kamo diri. Kadugay sa inyo.” But the last days of May found us in a plane, from General Santos, with a brief stopover to Manila that would take us to Busuanga. If you’d spotted us at NAIA, you would have noticed Manong and me, holding on to our mother in laughter, provoking her with random comments that got her riled up; or, more correctly, she holding on to us, complaining about her eyeglasses that still give her trouble with depth perception. She is adorable. She is getting older. We make most of our time to take her aro...
i chanced upon here after seeing your link from a blog of another person who's also from south cotabato.
ReplyDeletei'm from polomolok, and it's nice to know people who are also from my province.
true indeed, blogging saves you all the effort of having to talk a lot. all the best.
John Ryan, thanks for dropping by! Polomolok is one of my favorite places on earth. My grandmother lives there. All the best, too!
ReplyDeleteTrue enough, one of the most beautiful places in the world.
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