THIS September is Grandparents Month. I was going through my things in my dressing room last weekend and noticed a blue storage box. It was a box filled with memorabilia from the time I studied high school in New York. I found one of my projects in English literature. We were tasked to choose a theme, and research on poems and literary works about that theme. The title of my project was “End.” That was the time that my grandaunt, whom I called Sa-ko po (third grandaunt in Fukien), had just passed. I thought this Grandparents Month would be a memorable way to share a “Diary of a Mom With No Limits” (DOMWNL) entry about a person who taught me to do my best and guided me through a life path of love and integrity.
When I remember the fondest memories of my childhood, it would always include my years in Agno Street. From the yellow blanket my Sa-ko po and I shared, to eating tasty dumplings with her in Masangkay Street after a Sunday stroll in Luneta, to her surprising me with my own yellow BMX bike with an electric horn on Christmas, I can say such priceless moments are my benchmark on how happy I wish my own kids’ childhood would be. I will always remember our nightly after-dinner walks, her bringing home my favorite R&M Mango Puree and Merced egg pie, our weekend Chinese movie marathons, and, of course, her gifting me with Mighty Kid shoes and Adidas shorts from work.
There was a time when I was six that I got separated from her because of our parents’ problems. When I came back after a few months, she told me she stared at this large photo of mine every day. The next time my mother said she wanted to leave, I remember telling my mom by the metal swing door in Agno that I will be the one to stay with Dad because I can never hurt my Sa-ko po again. Even when I “ran away” from my parents’ home after grade school, she was the person who took me in.
Below is the poem and the explanation I wrote about her in my 10th grade project in Clarkstown North:
“When Lives Are Taken”
A time elapsed,
of life and knowledge
For me, that is,
for she has left
Towards an unknown place,
but a peaceful one, I hope.
So long for the restless nights,
where whom her stories were told
Dozing me to sleep,
with thoughts of pasts to ponder
And with a sweet kiss she’d leave,
a star for me to keep.
Every night was a road,
for us to travel and go by
Books were our guiding light,
exploring the roots of our land
Then we’d go through culture,
To preserve what she called ours.
Golds, silvers, and bronzes…
fruits of our labor
The hard work in between…
foundations of our tower
And the dreams of the peak…
was the essence of our friendship.
But then chaos had come to plague,
ruining each cell of life
And breaking down each block,
I was indignant
Few months…they said.
Why?…I replied.
She was fragile and alone
once tricked by love
And never again pursued
I was weak and so flustered
Yet the wheel turned slowly
and the pain shrieked even more
We were both helpless.
I saw her sleep
in a night never ending
I wept…I was selfish
For yes! The tears for her slumber
But more
for my questioned future.
Now the room is lit
but why do I stand alone
Sa-kopo (Chinese word for grandaunt),
why have you gone?
Was there too much in life?
How I wish you’d come again,
just to hear what I have to say.
People die…
memories still linger.
Time will pass…
pain would stay bonded.
And though you have left…
I will be waiting.
Back when I was five, I always had a teacher at my side. Since nursery, school had become so much part of my life and medals were my consolations. We’d study together each night and even review in the morning. Before I went to sleep, she would read me Chinese prose and poetry, saying it will be of good use some day.
I remember I would sometimes go with her to the park and we’d hold each other’s hands. She was my grandfather’s younger sister and she never married. I sort of became the daughter she never had. I remember always telling myself that when I grow up and have a family of my own, I will still be there to take care of her as she did with me. Sometimes when my mom would hit me, my Sa-ko po would shield my body to protect me. And though I know now it wasn’t always for the best, I knew why she did it. Hard times had come, and she was there helping me to understand and not to be angry at life.
I knew she’d always be there, but I remember very clearly when everything changed. It was a few weeks before my grade school graduation when I found out she had cancer of the throat. I cried so hard and was determined to get the valedictorian spot to offer to her. Days went by and she grew weaker by the week. We had misunderstandings at the time which I felt very guilty of.
The last thing I remember was my Sa-ko po listening to my song for the contest and despite her weak health, she explained each line to me. In the hospital, I waited and even thought everything was going to be fine. But in the bed of the emergency room, she died. Many times, I still cry upon seeing a Chinese book or a calligraphy pen, but somehow I feel she is here watching me and telling me to be firm.
Happy Grandaunts Day, Sa-ko po! Thank you for watching over me. I hope I have made you proud.