Lolo's Vigil

ICU and critical condition had no profound meaning to me until exactly one week ago. I stood beside his bed, astounded by the sight of him lying motionless. Tears cascaded down my face as I gently held his limp fingers and caressed his hand. The man that I thought would live forever was resting before me, sedated, and breathing his last breaths.

Upon the realization of Lolo leaving us, I immediately thought of how much I was losing and that I had taken for granted. This was the first time in a long time that someone close to me had passed away. The last time, I was too young to truly understand what a “loss” really meant. Thoughts that come naturally to humans when they lose someone close flooded my mind: I wish I would have said goodbye sooner. I should’ve said I loved him. Why didn’t I visit him earlier? But the truth is there was nothing I could really do.

However, as I reflect upon Lolo and the life that he lived, there is so much that I have from him to be grateful for. I mentioned how I imagined him never leaving us. Lolo was always a vibrant person, and he persevered through much in his life. Hospital visit after hospital visit… medicine after medicine… Despite whatever was going on with him physically, he embodied nothing less than vigorous and his courage through anything always prevailed. Never did I see Lolo sad or despairing, but rather, content and benevolent towards anyone and everyone.

Lolo “One” (as I knew him) valued family greatly, and was one that was capable of bringing people together. He was the epitome of a “MUYCO.” He was the host of countless family dinners and gatherings. Even when visiting our Aussie family down under, his name wasn’t neglected to be mentioned. As I got older, it became a habit for my cousins and me to visit him after church on Sundays to have lunch. His menu was rather predictable: mongo beans, sliced fruit, the best sticky rice I’ve ever known, and store bought fried chicken from Albertsons with potato wedges. Not to mention the pre-ordered bottles of water or orange soda we usually washed it all down with. You always knew you’d have a big appetite during any of his family gatherings because his extended version of the blessing of the food was quite long that you grew hungry by the end. It is refreshing to stand here today and see that all his friends, family, and loved ones are here gathered in his name, sharing his memories. It still holds true that he is capable of bringing everyone together.

I fondly remember Lolo as being a respectable and respected man. Though this intimidated me as I grew up, I have come to find that through his respect I have grown to be the capable person I am now. Lolo constantly reminded me while I was younger to be respectful to my parents (not to be confused with opinionated, God knows mom and dad had to deal with my mouth), and my elders. As Filipino tradition goes, whenever leaving, you had to say your goodbyes to everyone, which could be very tiring. And if you dilly-dallied any longer, you could end up saying “bye” all over again. Lolo and Lola were always reserved for last, and you could never leave without kissing their hand to your forehead, “bless you, amen.” Though simple through action, this blessing was impacting and one of the most symbolic connections I had with Lolo as his grand-daughter to her grand-father. Lolo always inquired about my well-being whenever I visited. He asked about school many times, and what I planned on doing with the rest of my life. In my last visit with him, I recall telling him how involved I was at my college and that I was working two jobs. I could never forget how his face lit up, and how proud he seemed to be of me. For the first time, I felt like I was truly making him happy as his grandchild. Even though he had no idea where Cal State Northridge is (nor does anyone else), he trusted that I was going to do well, and he’ll never know how much his support means to me. He is truly my inspiration.

One thing I’m glad Lolo passed down to us was his faith in God and Catholicism. He was notorious among the church community and my Catechism teachers even asked me how he was doing at times. His dedication to Christ was so apparent through the way he lived his life. Of course, especially when you wake up at 7am to attend church, not just on Sunday, but everyday. He gave so much love to his Lord, Jesus, and he put so much faith in Him to take care of his whole family. It was never so evident to me of how truly faithful he was until he was faced with death. It is my understanding that he was prepared for whatever outcome before going into surgery and he was ready to be with God in paradise, had that been his conclusion. He is a man worth admiring. His faith through sickness made me more faithful in God, myself. It’s reassuring knowing how confident he was, because it confirms even more that I will be with my grandfather again. That God has blessed me with an amazing person, and is taking care of us. I have no question in my mind that Lolo is in good hands. Though he will be missed on this corporeal earth, he would never be forgotten.

I suppose after this cognition, I am a contradictory to my own words. Lolo is the man that will live forever. Through his children, and grandchildren. Through our memories and actions. Lolo, you are always in our hearts. We love you and we miss you. May God grant your soul eternal rest, and I look forward to seeing you again.