Lighter shade of gray

by Yas Jayson Wednesday, August 11, 2010 13 palagay home sweet home pensive bottles

76 or 79?
I was born on 1931. Do the Math.
But your fading senior citizen's card tells you were 60 on 1994.
Never mind municipal records. I was born on 1931.
Fine. You are 79 then. Happy birthday.

She woke me up three minutes before the 6AM Mass in Monasterio de Santa Clara. Virginia, my Amma (grandmother), celebrates her birthday along with the feast of the religious virgin. I told her it is ironic that her birthday falls on the same date Catholics remember a pious woman. She didn't like my joke and hit me with a bottled water.

Believe it. My coolest barkada is a 79ner


She knows almost everything from leafy plants to broken hearts (though I never dared to talk about this with her. She is preachy I tell you.) She forgets dates but would always remember memories. Of all nicknames I have, her calling me Edjey is something sweet next to ice cream. Difference in language is never a struggle for her to gossip in Cebuano, Kapampangan, Ilokano, Pangalatok or Tagalog because she is very well versed.

Amma is a small woman with a big faith in her God. I think that is the common thing I share with her.

Ikaw lang ang kamukha ng nanay mo. Salamat nandyan ka. Madalas ang kasama kong lumabas dati eh sya. Kung buhay yun ngayon, kaming dalawa siguro barkada mo.

Someone said we do not remember days; we remember moments. The thing with Amma is she remembers so well; the countless sampaguita garlands she have graced, her struggles as a single parent in her 40's, the days she buried her son and daughters one after the other, the days she spent taking care of us as kids, every flood she had to flee from, every little accidents she had met. You can sit beside her and she will tell all in vivid details and emotions. And for someone who has nothing but a wardrobe of everyday clothes and imported soaps, generosity is a virtue she holds so well.

Memories. Amma had endured enough sacrifices through her life that I simply want to fill her memory with good moments. I want her to remember that she is being well taken care of, is being cherished, is being so valued. She had seen failure many times that all a grandchild could do is to give her are hours of dinner dates, occassional ice cream sessions and a ready heart to listen to her repeated stories.

For her I am still a boy of five she desperately teaches how to sing. The truth is I am her nineteen year older grandson trying to understand her stories lost in exact date and time.

She wears her age like a crown. And if it is really a physical crown, hers should be a heavy one laden with seventy nine diamonds twinkling like stars in the August night sky.