all about my nanay

(this month, two of the dearest people in my life -- my nanay and my youngest sister bambeth -- will be celebrating their birthdays. they are the kindest people i know, maybe because they share the birthday month of mama mary. i plan to write some stories about them, starting off with my nanay juaning.)

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when i think about love, i think about my nanay. juaning maybe old (around eighty), but her heart remains young, stays huge enough to accommodate all the people around her, and so strong that no matter how many times she has been hurt, she remains hopeful.  i am not saying this because she is my mother, but because i have seen her live it -- the life of love.
truth is, she is one of my inspirations to be a good person, to always fill my life with love even if sometimes, i end up getting hurt, being left alone, empty.
every time i am down, about to give-up, i would just close my eyes, remember her calm, serene face, beautifully marked by wrinkles and framed by grey hair, and i feel fine. i feel strong. renewed. because i know the battles that she had won, the difficulties that she had endured, the pains she had suffered.

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of course, she is not perfect. who is? she has her imperfections, but they are borne out of her love and concern for you. until now, she would sometimes tell me about her wish to see me married with a family of my own so that i won't grow old alone. i just dismiss these concerns (she knows i am gay, by the way) and tell her we will all be alone at some point in our life. that we will all die alone.

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anyway, back to nanay, the brave woman who gave up her youth, freedom and relatively comfortable life (they're not rich. just enough to lead a decent life) for love.
juaning fell in love with my father when she was in her teens, still at that point when she didn't know what she wanted to do with her life, what road to take later on.
it was a love at first sight, her sisters, my aunts would tell me. oh how i love listening about their love story. here was this naive, shy young provinciana, who was immediately smitten when she saw the twenty-something military officer in uniform, standing tall, erect, walking full of confidence towards her to introduce himself. he became her first boyfriend, this proud military man from the visayas, a stranger in their home province in tuguegarao, cagayan.
moths after that, they got married. it wasn't planned. my mother still wanted to finish her studies. but fate intervened.
one of my aunts, her youngest sister, caught them kissing one night and she told our grandparents. the next day, my angry grandfather had asked our father to marry her or else all hell will break loose. my mother, the obedient daughter, even if she was spoiled because she was the eldest and my grandfather's favourite, had no other choice but to follow her father's wishes. what does she know then?

of course, my father, who was head over heels in love with my pretty mother (long black, shiny hair like in a shampoo commercial; cappuccino skin; deep set brown eyes; red, lush and kissable lips even without lipstick and a regal bearing that she got from her mother), agreed right away. my mother at that time was very popular at school and in their province and had countless suitors, so i was told.

as a result, she was not able to finish her studies and was forced to start a family at such a young age.

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but it wasn't all romance and roses for my mother. she was young, she didn't know any household chore (at home, they had helps to do those tasks for them). she was immature. but then she was suddenly taken out of her comfort zone.

in her new home (a small rented room that she shared with her husband), she was always lonely and miserable, especially when her husband would complain about her cooking, about the dirty house, about his missing socks, about how she was not good at washing and ironing his military uniform. you see, my father was old school, grew up in a very conservative and strictly patriarchal family - the husband makes a living and the wife stays at home and do all the housework. he could bring all his friends at home for drinks and the wife has to cook, serve them with a smile and at the same time be beautiful, charming, smart and witty even if she is dead tired and totally bored.

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yet, love prevailed.
mother stayed with him through thick and thin, despite her husband's ill temper, foul mouth especially when he was drunk, and fits of jealousy. (for god's sake, they lived inside the military compound, so naturally mother would be surrounded by all these handsome young men in uniform all the time.) but she endured all of that. even her new found poverty.

she was raised in an ultra religious and traditional way:  once you are married, you have to stay together, forever. not only for the sake of the children, but because a separation is against their religion.

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i always tell my friends that my parents were like tom and jerry: they would argue about almost everything. they could never agree on anything. and yet, every time they were away from each other, you could tell, even if they won't tell anyone, that they missed each other. they could not stand being separated from each other even for a day.

one time, when i already had my own flat, mother suddenly arrived from the province.  alone. minus the moody old man. a surprise because they always travel together. when i asked her why, she told me that she could no longer bear to live with her husband.

fine, i said, i have been telling you to separate from your husband since i learned how to read and write. this time, she assured me, she would do it.

you can live with me, i said, for as long as you want. i will even help you get a younger, more handsome boyfriend.

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on the first day, she was fine. we went shopping. i bought her new clothes, bags, shoes, make up, perfume. i brought her to the make up counter at the department store to have her face done.

but the next day, she was quiet. without telling me, i knew she was lonely. when i asked her why, she said she was worried about her orchids. about her grandchild who was living at home at that time. who would take care of them? who would cook for your niece?

i already knew she missed the old man. so the next day, i sent her home. no questions asked.

that was nearly twenty years ago.

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they had more quarrels, more walk outs, trial separations after that. with mother threatening to leave him for good. but it never happened.

until the old man met a fatal accident.

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when father died, mother was composed. i never saw her cry, except once during the mass before the burial. she was that brave. i thought she was fine. after all, she had always complained about his ill temper, his sudden fits of anger. his moodiness. now, she could live in peace.

but a few months after, she was in the hospital for an unknown disease.

i knew then that she missed the old man so much. that she was depressed, but was too proud to admit it. or maybe she didn't know it too.

i tried to ease her loneliness by staying with her at home, by resigning from my job. but i knew that was not enough. i knew that deep in her heart, she would rather be with him.

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until now, my mother talks about her husband, my father, as though he is still alive. i remember when i was with her for a few months at home (several months after the old man passed away), she would always make it a point to invite him to join us for breakfast, lunch, coffee and dinner. when we watched teevee, she would sometimes tell me that he was sitting right beside me.

at first it would scare the hell out of me. then later on, i thought she must be losing her mind because she missed him so much. then much later on, after a month or so, i realized that maybe, who knows, her husband's spirit was really around the house, watching over her because he knew that she would be living in the old, empty house alone.

then after a few more months, i also found myself asking the old man to join us for meals, or talking to him sometimes, especially when i had problems, something i never did when he was still alive. (he was cold and distant). for instance, if i could not open the door, i would ask him to please help me open it up. or when i can't sleep at night, i would ask him to please help me get some sleep. (funny thing was i would get scared if i felt something right next to me. hahaha.)

na-osmosis, as my bff fil would say.

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once, i asked her if she had any regrets about marrying young. about marrying him. didn't she wish she had waited and find a better man? nothing, she said, except not being able to finish her studies.

do you still love him? she just gave me a mysterious smile.

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until now, i know that my mother, even in her solitude, is still basking in the glow of love.

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song for the day: ella fitzgerald's the man i love.