A Goodbye

A few months ago, I found myself plugged into my mp3 player, listening to an audiobook, paintbrush poised in midair, wondering what in the world I should paint.  It had been quite some time since someone asked me to paint for them with no real specifications, no guidelines except that it be pretty and have lots of detail.  It was also the first time I was asked by a relative I knew very little about but had admired and been in awe of all my life.  It was also the first time I was asked by someone who knew she didn't have the luxury of time left in this world.

It began with news of her illness.  She had gone to Manila to visit friends and family.  Shortly after she returned home, her daughter sent word to me about the cancer.  My aunt called right away and that was when the request for a painting from me was made.

Diding was my mother's first cousin.  I didn't see very much of her growing up.  I know she married abroad and that she had married a man from Scotland.  His work took the family to India and Malaysia.  When they were in the Philippines, their daughters would come to the house for piano lessons (my grandmother was a piano teacher).  They were, and still are, quite beautiful.  It seemed only natural to me that Diding would have such good-looking children.  She also had a son whom I never had the chance to meet although we did exchange an email when I was asking what kind of painting she would like.  Diding was too weak to respond to the email herself so she requested her son to please reply.  When she received the paintings and had them hung in her room, she asked her daughter to send me an email (she dictated the contents) to thank me.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this piece, I was always in awe of Diding.  She was, to my young mind, someone very accomplished. someone quite in control of things.  She wasn't a tall lady but she seemed to be because she carried herself with an elegance. What I knew of her I learned mostly from my grandmother.  My grandmother would talk about Diding with much fondness and pride.  She was, my gandmother said, smart and intelligent.  She knew what she wanted and she set out to do it.  I also remember how my grandmother marveled at the way Diding, in spite of being petite, could handle and groom her horse. 

One Christmas, we went to my grandaunt's house and I saw the most beautifully decorated tree.  I was told that it was Diding's handwork.  I think it had become my standard for how Christmas trees ought to look even to this day.  Years later, she would do cross-stitch "paintings" of people's houses. 

When the illness set in, her daughter, Melanie kept me abreast of Diding's condition.  It was from M (as I call Melanie) that I got to know a bit more about this woman I was in such awe of.  Of course the awe was just all the more magnified when I learned of her courage, her grace, and her selflessness.  She had even made plans to be brought to the hospice after going home to say her good-byes to her family so that the house might be filled only with happy memories.

In the early morning of April 25, 2010, my aunt called to let us know that Diding was finally free of pain and other woes of the world.  I didn't get the chance to say good-bye to her but I hoped that the paintings helped her in some small way the past months.  I said a prayer for her and I continue to pray for those she left behind.  I know she left a huge space that can't be filled by anyone else.

Later I would see her daughter post a fund-raising campaign on Facebook for the hospice that took such good care of her because true to form, Diding did not dwell on her illness or discomfort.  In lieu of flowers, she asked that donations be made to  Marie Curie Cancer Care.

Goodbye, (tita) Diding.  It was an honor to have been able to do the paintings for you. 

History Lessons

Over the weekend,  the family took a dip into American history.  We probably only managed to wade into the shallow edges of what I felt was a vast ocean filled with stories of peoples, my own included (a handcrafted rifle made by Filipinos during the second world war was on display at the Smithsonian, along with a photo of Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo).  Two days just isn't enough to take in faces, facts, legends, design--the list goes on.  We all agree that we have to make several more visits.

When we were packing up for the ride back home, I checked my email.  Among newsletters and Facebook alerts were two emails.  One was from a classmate requesting prayers for her mom who was in the final stages of Alzheimer's.  The other was from a dear friend updating me on the wedding of the daughter of another dear friend.  I sat at the hotel room desk, my mind filled with things not to forget while packing and at the same time thinking that this was history too.  This was my Timeline.

The two friends who had sent the email were friends from childhood.  We saw each other five days a week during the school year plus on certain days of the weekend for parties and such.  We saw each other transition from carefree preschool children to angst-ridden teens.  Some of us went separate ways after high school only to find one another again at school homecomings and reunions, through group emails, and in the last couple of years, through Facebook.  And now we are truly "midlife-ing."

On the one hand, we're still looking after our children and on the other, we're taking care of our parents.  We worry about both in different degrees and on both counts, we're faced with the task of letting go.  Our shared histories bind us to one another whether we are aware of it or not, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.  I have had the pleasure of rediscovering old friends and realizing, to my delight, that neither time nor distance did much to alter friendships.  I could be as comfortable with my old friends now as I was back in the day.  The added bonus is that the wisdom that comes with time afforded us an even better understanding of one another.

I share the sorrow of my friends as well as their joys.  I know the importance of being able to step out of the wife/mom/daughter/boss/employee role for a few hours to do a fancy fox trot.  I even acknowledge the tendency to become addicted to Farmville (or in my case, anything that resembles The Sims3). I find myself saying a prayer right away when one of us reaches out with a request for one.  The history we share crosses oceans and continents.  No matter where we are, we're on the same timeline.  I don't have to try and emulate the virtues of past historical figures or get inspiration from heroes and heroines of the past.  All I have to do is to take the hand of any of my friends in real or virtual time and I know I'll do just fine!