Encouragement

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My “lola” is a petite 4’11 lady. She was fair-skinned, silver-haired and stooped almost to the waist. By the time she reached the ripe old age of 86, she had only two teeth, a fact which did not deter her from grinning whenever she felt like it. She would give us those sharp spontaneous laughter, her toothless mouth opened wide without a shred of vanity.

She was orphaned at 4 and lived with her own grandmother who ekes out a living selling coconut oil at the local market. Due to poverty, She told us she was not unable to finish even elementary and only reached grade four. But her lack of education seemed to foster a fervor inside her to start us early in the parth of knowledge.

Every after lunch, she would bring out a threadbare cloth embroidered with the “Caton”. It was painstakingly stitched by her own grandmother from where she has learnt the old Spanish alphabet with all the “Ll’s and Ññ’s”. Lined up in front of her like obedient school pupils, she would ask us, her 5 grandchildren , to repeat after her…: “A, E-I, O-u..El-le, En-ye..E-re…”.

It was usually followed by Cathecism, a rigorous indoctrination into traditional Catholicism. “How many persons does God have?” “Three…” we reply. “And these are?” “The Father..the Son..and the Holy Spirit.” At these, my lola would beam proudly, content that she has instilled in us all the Religious discipline we will ever need to ward off the evils of the world.

At 8 years old, I would impatiently wait for these afternoons to end, restless to get on with “real fun”, which consisted of playing sari-sari store using leaves as imaginary money in our garden.

I later realized I had learned from my Lola a wealth of knowledge that I could never have learned from any educational institution.



She barely finished elementary but she imparted to me and my siblings important lessons that we shall carry throughout our lives.

Lola taught me persistence.

Every day of her life, my lola would wake us up at exactly 6 am, knocking on our doors, unheeding of her rheumatism and bent back waiting for us to answer her call. “Mayan! Ibo! Atoy! Janet!…wake up, it’s time for school.. you will be late if you don’t wake up now…I have readied your hot water now…wake up!” “later, ‘la!!” I would call back impatiently…but she would stand there, knocking endlessly, until in sheer desperation we would drag ourselves from bed and haul our sleepy forms to the bathroom.

She taught me empathy.

Lola had several animals at home. Pigs, chickens, ducks, pigeons. She treated those animals as if they were her other grandchildren, talking to them soothingly during feeding time and taking care of sick animals herself. She would not give up on a sick animal until it literally expired from her hands. She would take on the care of squabs left by their irresponsible mothers, or feed sick pups with bottled milk. I could even recall that she didn’t use commercialized feeds but cook her pigs a “special” recipe which, strangely, smelled appetizing to us. She was merciful to everybody and anybody – humans and animals alike.

She taught me simplicity.

I learned from her that we do not need state-of-the art playstations or Barbie dolls to be happy. We played sunka in dug-out earth filled with stones and had improvised picnics under our coconut trees. She taught us how to make our own dessert-- in the absence of chocolates and cakes-- her original recipe which she dubbed as – “the Banana milk”. It consisted of mashed ripe bananas mixed with rice and powdered milk. It looked strange , wet and slimy – but we have never tasted a more delectable sweet than lola’s specially made “banana milk”.

She taught me humility.

I have always wondered why Lola never raised her voice back to her stepdaughter -- my aunt, who would sometimes scold her. She never quarreled with anybody and would prefer to keep her peace. I sometimes thought that she allowed herself to be taken advantage of….but to this, she would patiently tell me. “Mayan, Si apo mo yan..” (mayan, never mind…)
She never assumed she was somebody important and would patiently wait for a person to talk to her rather than interrupt the person talking.
I almost never saw her angry. If ever she was angry, it would quickly die a natural death.

…but I think, her most important lesson to me, was courage.

A year before she died, her middle son died of a heart attack. She was 85 and nearly blind and deaf. She took the news calmly and never broke down. When my uncle’s body was brought back to us for interment, she calmly made arrangements. She lead the people in novenas and the holy rosary. She lighted candles and served cookies and peanuts. I watched her closely, expecting anytime that she would break down in tears…but she never did. I didn’t know if she cried in private, but to all of us, she served as our tower of strength during that time. We knew that more than us, she was going through a greater pain—the unexpected death of your own child -- but she went through it like a ship bravely battling stormy waves, desperately afraid but fiercely calm.

At 86, my lola died of lung cancer. She was bedridden for four months and had to swallow 5 different kind of pills every meal time. Each time she has to take those pills, her face would contract in pain, but not a word of complaint passed her parched lips. She never griped or ranted against her miserable conditions.

Too often, she had to be brought to the doctor to remove water from her lungs . A huge needle was inserted in her back which sucked water out slowly. They told us it was an extremely painful process. We would never have known from her. She would sit there, pain in her eyes, and bravely go through the process, biting her lip from uttering a word.

I sometimes thought that her illness was more taxing for us than for her. I suspected that her stoic acceptance of her pain was done –more to comfort us than herself.

When I look at her facing her last days with such calm, I sometimes wonder if I could ever come close to her equanimity. If I were put in the same situation, when I knew I was dying, sick and in pain, Would I quiver in fright and lash out at God? Would I endlessly complain and spend the last of my days making the lives of those around me as miserable as mine?

…or would I spend it like a miser spending the last of his treasures, savoring each second and committing to memory each moment spent with my loved ones?

My lola spent her life in fearless acceptance of all the blows that life has dealt. Doubtless, she was afraid and perhaps, in her private moments suffered uncertainties just like the rest of us. But she had to be strong not only for herself, but also for us.

Real courage they say, is not being afraid of anything…but being afraid and yet having the strength to do the things you have to do.

..and my lola had certainly courage. She was the cornerstone of our family. From her knees we learned all the valuable lessons we will ever need to know;

Persistence- to know that good things take a lot of time patience and effort to get.
Empathy - to the feel pain of others, and consequently to be able to care for them.

Humility, to know that pride is a small cost to pay for peace.

Simplicity, to know sometimes life’s greatest pleasures are in the simplest of things…

and lastly, Courage-- to bear the pain that comes with living…but not for yourself..not for yourself , but for those you LOVE.

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