Francisca

Mt. Labo (Labo Camarines Norte, Philippines)

I remember when we were younger, we would always go for a vacation in my grandparents’ house in Camarines Norte. I specifically would want to be with my grandmother (my grandfather passed away when we were kids) most of the time even when I was growing up. And to be very honest, my Lola Francisca (and probably the beautiful Mt. Labo, too) would be the reason/s why I can travel that much - it’s a drooling 10-hour drive!

Anyway, a week ago, I was with my brother and my father (her second to the eldest son of five), I visited Lola finally after several years of not seeing her in person. Upon seeing her, there’s something nostalgic about her face that contains only good memories. Her face that is exceptional of making me feel at home even she’s already forgetful due to old age. I wonder if she actually forgotten that she has children and grandchildren surrounding her trying to let her remember our names and faces. “Oh, it’s me, Dennis, your grandchild, eldest son of Arnold who is your son.” If that explanation clear enough for her to grasp. But she would just nod like an innocent child. It may sound like a fun game to some. But my emotion behind this gesture to engage her memory is more like a desperate appeal though I’m not sad. I’m not saying that it’s hopeless because growing old (and losing memory, perhaps) is inevitable.

During our stay, I spent a lot of my time with her and would initiate narratives and showed on my phone random pictures of me and the places I’ve been, but her eyes gets tired easily and at times she would shoo me away because she has to lie down and take a nap. “Ok, I will leave you alone and I shall see you later.” At her age, she’s very strong and still could do most of things on her own — if she’s not forgetting. 

When it’s time for us to go, I watched my father almost in tears upon silently saying a brief goodbye to her. It’s probably tears of joy but I didn’t ask. Some things are just meant to be as quiet moments. Just let it be.

As I looked at her one last time, I imagined if tomorrow there’s a chance she would be looking for us because she remembers. Until then, I shall see you Lola Francisca next summer.