Emilia - Part 1

Tia Miling (Emilia) turned 81 last Thursday, June 30th. Together with five of her seven children, Lita and I celebrated her birthday - and she had a blast. She stayed up past her bedtime and had the food she loves and treats she normally could not have due to her medical condition. Late into the evening, she blew the candles from her birthday cake. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkled, oh, she was happy! I slept in the spare bed in her bedroom and we talked past midnight until we both fell asleep. It was such a wonderful day.

I visit Tia Miling at least twice a year - and I drop by every opportunity I get when I go to San Francisco or San Jose, or have visitors from out of town who would like to see her. I love visiting with Tia Miling and her family. They are all so warm and loving and welcoming, and oh, so family....

In early December 2009, I made a trip that I thought would be the last that I would see of her. She had a stroke-like seizure that left her dazed and unresponsive. They put her on medications that her body could not tolerate and worsened her condition. My cousins called me when it happened and I was in touch with them getting a daily update. On the fourth day after her seizure, Elena called and she laid it on me - her mom was getting worse, would not open her eyes, eat nor respond to anything. It may be time to come and say goodbye. We were both crying on the phone and I told her I was coming the following day. I booked a flight to San Jose, rented a car and drove to Monterey Community Hospital.

When I got there at about 11am, - her three daughters - Terry, Elena and Elba were there. They told me she was miraculously doing good that morning. She opened her eyes and she was able to eat, albeit, a little. She still did not recognize some of them and she garbled her words, but something was different in a good way. I kissed her on the forehead as I always did, called her name - "Tia" - and she opened her eyes and smiled at me. I told her to squeeze my hand if she recognized me and she did. I asked her who I was and she whispered my name. I talked to her in Tagalog. I whispered songs to her ear and I talked her about coming back to us and not giving up. I talked about great-grandchildren she has yet to meet and see and watch grow up - and how they would be cheated if she was gone; about her children and grandchildren needing their mother and grandmother; and me, her favorite niece, who is as lovely as her aunt - who would be devastated if she gave up. She gave a weak laugh and squeezed my hand some more.

I joked with her - even some dirty ones - just to get her to react - and she did. She actually did converse with us - although often, she would just be garbling unrecognizable words. But then, she would suddenly speak complete sentences or even swear in Tagalog that made us all laugh - including her. That day, she was in a much improved state and in higher spirits. She was there and she was engaged - unlike the ghost in my aunt's body who was there the previous days. After a while she got tired and fell asleep and so I just kissed her again before I left. My cousins and Mike, Elena's husband (and one of my favorite in-laws) said Tia always responded to me and always perked up when I was around - and it was more true that day, they said.

As I drove back to the San Jose Airport that evening, I found myself crying. This was not the same woman I have known all my life - my Tia Miling who I called "hagibis" for she always moved as fast as a lighting - and now reduced to skin and bones. When I got home late that night, I cried so hard and let it all out. It was like crying for my own mother. That's what she had been to me since Nanay died in 1988. Although she is only Nanay's first cousin, their resemblance is uncanny and my love for them, and their love for me - overwhelming.

Her condition improved after that day. My cousin Elena had spoken to the doctors about cutting down on her medications - especially the pain killers and the antibiotics. Elena is a registered nurse and has worked in that hospital for over 30 years. She constantly discussed her mother's prognosis with the doctors and they listened to her. It only got better from there. Tia Miling started to eat, was cooperative with her physical therapists and would walk around the hospital. Eventually, they were able to move her into a convalescent facility in Pacific Grove - the same place where I spent Christmas Eve of 2009 - listening to the breathing of two afflicted women - my aunt and Patsy, her roommate.

The convalescent facility where Tia Miling was confined was carefully chosen by her daughters. Terry, Elena, Juanito and Elba and their nephew Tino, (who all lived in Seaside/Monterey area) made sure that someone was always with her - even though there were professional care-givers and nurses there. They would check what medications were given her, when and how much. Her two other sons Jason and Jeremy who lived in San Luis Obispo and San Jose, and her grandchildren from out of town would also come and help whenever they could. But it was mostly Terry and Elena who have devoted almost 100% of their time to their mother, while Elba made sure she relieved her sisters after work, and Tino was a big help, too.

That Christmas Eve, I told them it was their break - and my turn to be with my aunt and so they went home and had a little rest. That night also, I understood better the sacrifices of my cousins for their mother.