THESE next few days is All Saints and All Souls weekend for us. What is our view as parents on bringing our kids to the cemetery? Do we feel they are too young?
Ever since I could remember, my visit to the cemetery would have me bowing with my burning incense to say thank you to my ancestors for giving me my family members, and to ask them to guide me in my studies. I think it was my grandaunt who imparted these thoughts to me.
Back then, the family would spend hours in the Chinese cemetery folding special ritual paper for burning. We would offer our departed relatives their favorite food. We would stick colored papers with cooked paste.
No one would schedule to meet there but always we would end up seeing each other within the visit. In all this, we would hear stories of our great grandparents’ general traits; how our grandparents’ lives were in China; or how life was when everyone— my grandparents, my grandfathers’ siblings, my dad and his siblings—were all living in Quiapo.
Today is a bit different. We visit more than one resting site. Our rituals have become shorter. Families converge less. Regardless of the difference, what doesn’t change are the substance and stories imparted to the next generation. We still do the rituals. We still seek for guidance. I get to share with my kids how lucky I was to have lived my childhood in an extended family setup. My dad gets to share his antics with his brother and the like.
So, for this week’s article, I thought of honoring and giving gratitude to my loved ones who have gone ahead by sharing some of my memorable stories with them:
1. My sa-ko po (grandaunt in Fukien) and I would always go to Luneta Park every Sunday. One time she even allowed me to bring my bike. After our stroll, we would always have breakfast at Tasty Dumplings on Masangkay Street. I would have my pork chop bihon soup and she would have her fresh hot soy milk in a bowl with crunchy Chinese bread. I thank her for patiently pushing me, yet never once letting me feel inadequate.
2. I was my angkong’s (grandfather in Fukien) side kick as a child. From giving me my first sip of scotch at five years old, to rewarding me with delicious hamburger whenever I helped out at Reliance Emporium, I thank him most for instilling in me to love the simplest things. One of my favorite memories of my angkong was when he flew back from Japan. He gave each one of us an umbrella. Mine was a blue one. Then he called me beside him and told me that he chose the strongest one for me. When my grandmother passed away last year, I found my angkong’s favorite TUC crackers from Germany. I included it in my offering during the wake and asked my amah (grandmother in Fukien) to give it to my angkong when she sees him.
3. My nanny Manang Eyang and I would never run out of adventures. One time, she only had enough money for our jeepney ride from St. Jude in Malacañang to D. Tuazon in Quezon City. She knew I really wanted my red Chippy that day. So, she challenged me if I could walk long enough to minimize our jeepney rides. We did it! I thank Manang most for never leaving me. She told me when I was 8 that she was offered by her sister to go to the US with her a few years before. She said she could not leave me. She and I felt so bad when she could not transfer with us when our family moved out of our grandparents’ place.
4. The year before I got married, I moved back to my amah’s house with my youngest sister. I loved our nightly rituals. After dinner, we would watch his favorite Chinese show Ta Ai while she soaked her feet in warm water. Then it would be off to her bedroom. She would use her bamboo stick to tap her feet a fixed number of times, then rubbing her tummy also a set number of times to keep it slim. I thank my amah for being my best foundation of stability and family during my formative years. I think without her constant care, my view of family life would be very different today. As I said goodbye to her ashes after her cremation last year, a small dot of ash flipped to my wrist, I knew my amah was telling me that she will always be there to guide my family.
5. My sister-friend Princesse and I were ultimate tequila mates in our younger years. In one of our trips to Boracay, we snuck out from our group of friends and both finished 20 shots each. I said goodbye to her last June, and I can never thank Princesse enough for being the most generous and loving big sister I could ever have.
Why do I value my kids visiting the cemetery with me? In an inexplainable wishful effect of “osmosis,” I hope for my kids to feel the impact my departed loved ones have had in my life. As much as I still remember my specific well of tears for each of them, I also hope to continuously transform the loss into lifelong stories of gratitude to pass on to my kids. I hope it would serve as a challenge for them, as it has been for me, to do our beloved departed proud with the lives we are gifted to still live.