She's the oldest relative I've seen in person. She was my grandmother's big sister. She was always been very old and slouchy and had this grouchy face as I can remember. She was very strong and I never saw her crying, even when grandmother died.
One day, she greeted me on my birthday and I asked her when was her's so I could greet here back when that time comes. She said she couldn't remember when and nobody else does. I could have asked "how about your mother, didn't she tell you?", but I was so young then that I thought old people doesn't have mothers because they are old. I was five or six and still didn't get the circle of life.
I always remember her as someone who always has something for me. She kept food (mostly fruits) amongst her dresses, wrapped in towels (not the fancy kind where it's all fluffy, she couldn't afford it; it's custom-made, cut out from the flour's sack; in our dialect, we called it sako sa harina). She spent most of her mornings in our babaw (mountain) where she got all those fruits and kept it for us. My fun afternoon was consist of going to their house, which is a stone's throw away from ours, and get whatever she had stored for me. She had no husband and children and she wasn't friendly or so I thought. I just never seen her socializing - yes, I've got that genes - but she was always good with children.
towel cut out from sako sa harina
Our bonding moments consist of going to our babaw (mountains) where they grow crops like corns and camote. We would start walking as early as five o'clock in the morning and reached our destination in time for breakfast - my favorite part of the journey. We will soon rest in the small nipa hut where we would open whatever baons we brought along. Then she and my grandma would do the farming while I roamed around together with my cousin and siblings in the wide land full of wild berries and fruits and get everything our dainty hands could bring. My cousin once said that mana even climbed a coconut tree once to get some coconuts just because my cousin (and company) wanted to drink coco juice. Hardcore, right?
Then time passes and she became ill and couldn't walk and was bedridden for a very long time. She stopped giving treats and I stopped seeing her. Playmates and friends became more fun than shes was and soon I lost my interest to her. There were times that I went to her room and she would just stare at me. I think she felt bad because she couldn't give anything to me anymore. She never forgets our names but there are times she mismatched names with another person. One day she said "dakoa na nimo day oi (you look so big already)" and I realized she must be sick long enough for her to never saw me growing. The chit-chats we always shared just stopped and being a child and immature, I blamed her for that. She stopped being strong and I was afraid that she was not the same mana I was so fond of. Sometimes, I even went in there and just peek at a small opening in her door, not wanting to get inside and acknowledge my presence. She was so different. She was not the mana I used to know.
She died when I was 12 (I think) and it made me very sad. But I can't remember if I ever did shed a tear. Maybe, I never fully appreciated the beauty of having her in my life. I couldn't even remember if I ever said thank you to every guyabano or guava or senegwelas or lomboy her frailly hands offered unselfishly. Hands that was aged beautifully through years...
Going back today, it made me think that I was cut in the same stone as she was. All the traits she had, I saw it in me the more I aged. Like she was, I am shy, I don't like people most of the time, I don't cry easily and I love children. And did I mention that she didn't get married? Now, I know where I'm going.
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