As I Am Laid to Rest

My lolo, Tata Encio (short for Florencio), was laid to rest this afternoon, amidst the intense pouring of the monsoon rain, as if the weather was lamenting with the loved ones he left behind. My lola, Nanang Goring (short for Gregoria), showed no signs of frailty save for her occasional shaking and quivering (presumably brought about by her old age and sheer exhaustion), even as she bid him her last farewell during the final viewing of Tata Encio's remains. But as Tata Encio's casket was lowered into his final resting place, Nanang Goring shed her tears and quietly whispered "Encio, pano na ako ngayong mag-isa na ako?" Being only two persons away from her, I caught those last few words, and I started crying myself...thankful for the rain that would wash it off my face soonafter. I threw in my long-stemmed white rose and whispered, "Tata Encio, buti ka pa, tapos ka na...ako, mahaba pa 'tong lalakbayin ko" and absentmindedly wiped my tears.

As we gathered for the post-funeral merienda sena, we shared fond memories of Tata Encio. I didn't bother joining in--it was a predominantly old crowd and I didn't want to risk breaking down in front of virtual strangers. I did, however, remember, albeit privately. Tata Encio is not my "first-degree" grandpa but he was the only grandfather that I knew from my mother's side (his first cousin, my Mom's father, Tatang [whose name escapes me at the moment, as we've always called him as such], passed away even before I was born). My Lolo Dadoy (short for Conrado) from my father's side was the other. I remember Tata Encio being a very generous person--he was an only child, but he acted as a father and grandfather to practically legions of nephews and grandchildren. He was never mean; he was a real kind soul who never failed to smile or made us smile when we were feeling down. He and Nanang Goring were virtually inseparable--even when going to the toilet. They would take trips together (even when they already migrated to the United States), do morning jogs together, eat meals together and also go to church service together. Theirs was a union that only death could've severed.

Now, that union is missing the other half. I can only pray for strength--both emotional and physical--as well as inner peace for Nanang Goring, as well as the rest of the loved ones that Tata Encio left behind. It is a big waste for the world to have lost yet another kind soul.

Tata Encio, heaven has sent its angels down and given you wings. Do look out for us down here. You will always be in our hearts.

* * *

Last Will and Testament, Signed Ben Redulla

It was prolly the gloomy weather, or perhaps the general mood caused by Tata Encio's passing away, or maybe my near-death experience at the provincial hospital because of "integrated" dehydration-exhaustion-hypoglycemia and later discovering having dangerously low platelets count which could--God forbid--lead to chronic leukemia, that brought me in this somber state of mind. Whatever the cause was, there is no shaking off this grey clouds over me--asking, yet again, "Why, God, why?"

Walking to the memorial park behind Tata Encio's funeral car, I told my sister what I wanted for my last rites...or any event that supervenes upon it. So, in case that happens any time soon, and she forgets, please remind her. Her name's Rachel R. De Vera. She is my best friend in the whole wide world, and I love her to bits.

These are my "terms"...

- I don't want my wake to be in my house in Bataan; instead, in a memorial home here in Manila. I'd hate to have the feel of death linger in that house.
- I want photos of me and my friends and family framed and displayed during the wake. None of those big-ass frames of myself which gives people a maudlin feeling that I'm really gone.
- I'd like to be cremated. My remains put in a really unassuming urn made of porcelain--something to symbolize how fragile my life really was. I will be laid to rest in one of those places where cremated people go to...not in any of those mausoleums I've visited all my life.
- Music to be played as I am being sent to my final resting place should be the likes of Boyz II Men's Visions of a Sunset, or David Foster/Nita Whitaker's Heaven Holds the Ones I Love, or
Sarah McLachlan's I Will Remember You...and none of those old, overused classics like You'll Never Walk Alone, or Footprints in the Sand.
- All my savings and investments and policies go to my sister and her daughter Jasmine.
- I have a tin can in my condo--a round plaid one--that has "love notes" for people I have loved, hated, fought with, made love with, and made friends with over the years. Please have them take which ones are theirs. These will be those things that I failed to tell them while I was alive.
- Everything else goes to charity, as sorted out by my family and very close friends.

If I died tomorrow, I hope I die in peace--free of misery and pain, free of hatred, and flying on the wings of forgiveness.