Nanay Iska
Her name was Francisca Trinidad Tolentino. To us, her grandchildren, she was Nanay Iska. She was my mother's mother. From her, I learned how to have fun and how to take things lightly.
All her grandchildren adored her. She was always cheerful with an easy and assuring smile that just lifts you up. She told us a lot of stories, taught us things like whistling to “call the winds” when the weather was too warm or drinking coffee and dunking “galletas” in coffee before going to bed (and we were children then!). She was a woman of faith and we grew up watching her read her “Mahal na Pasyon” during Holy Week. She was impish and loving and fun.
She was a mischievous child, she told me. She used to steal her classmates’ lunch and would provoke a fight if caught red-handed. She was in a lot of fist-fights—with boys and girls. She was naughty and we had a really hearty laugh as she shared those memories with me.
Nanay Iska was full of life. She walked briskly, and was always on the go. Even after Tatay Boto (my grandfather, Benito Tolentino) died, she went on about her life, raising a couple of swines and collecting “kaning-baboy” (food scraps) from the neighbors everday. We used to come across each other at 6 every morning - me on my way to work/school, and she with her pail to collect “kaning-baboy.” Our standard greeting was “ a pretty granddaughter just like her beautiful grandmother,” and then we would laugh in the middle of the street. Oh, I loved the way we laughed together!
Ate Lodi (my older sister) and I spent most of our evenings with Nanay Iska when we were growing up (we were in elementary school). Our other cousins did, too. In my grandparents' old house, there would be this very long banig (sleeping mat) where there would be tons of pillows and where sometimes as many as four or five grandchildren would be sleeping. However, it was Ate Lodi and I who spent more time with them. Although we stayed in our own house during the day, we would go to our grandparents' house to sleep.
There was a reason for this. As children we used to play with our neighbors until late at night. If we went home, our mother would scold us for staying out late. Nanay Iska never did. All sticky and dirty from playing, we would go to their home where a warm bed would be ready for us every night, even during school night. She had no problem with us having fun and being children. She was our refuge.
Ate Lodi was her favorite. She was an A student and was consistently in the honor roll at the end of every school year. She was so proud of Ate Lodi that when she was in the fifth grade, Nanay Iska gave her a watch. It was a big deal for a child to have a watch at that age, and Nanay Iska was such a loving and generous grandmother.
People always mistook my mother and Nanay Iska as sisters. She looked a lot younger than her actual age - plus the fact that only about 16 or 17 years separated them. When I started dabbling in photography, I took several pictures of her. I captured her several moods and I loved those pictures. The one that I liked the most is one that showed her in a seemingly pensive mood. She did not like this picture because “she looked old.” Whoever said that vanity is for the young?
On New Years’s day, 1978, Nanay Iska and I went out. We saw a movie, window shopped at department stores and ate out. It was the first time she had gone out for fun. She hadn’t been to Makati (one of the prime shopping areas in the Philippines), hadn’t stepped on an escalator, hadn’t eaten at a fast food court. I watched her face glow with excitement with the new things she was experiencing. We had so much fun together that we went out again, this time with my mother and Ate Ellie.
At 76, Nanay Iska was full of life. Her daily routine started early in the morning where she went around the neighborhood for her pigs' food and spent the rest of her day with a variety of errands and chores. She was so vibrant that it was a surprise to everyone when she was hospitalized.
On May 15th, Nanay Iska had a stroke and was taken to the hospital. Hypertension runs in the family. My mother, Nanay Masiang (Nanay Iska's sister) and Nanay Iska all had this condition. Nanay Iska stayed in the hospital for three weeks and underwent serious and delicate treatments. On the first week of June, we took her home, to our house. My mother thought it would be best as all her other sisters had young children or work or both. With us all grown up, my mother was better able to attend to her mother.
It was summer break so all her grandchildren (most of whom were college students at the time) took turns in taking care of her and in keeping her company. This also helped develop a special bond among us. We would sit around her, talk to her, feed her, kiss her.
On June 13th, Friday, she had her last rites. She was conscious of it and would answer “Amen” as the priest performed the sacrament. That evening she died.
I think of Nanay Iska with such fondness and affection. I miss the knowing wink she and I would share when we would hide something naughty from my mother. I miss her hugs, her laughter, her excitement, the glow from her eyes.
Over 30 years after she passed away, and I still feel the warmth of her love. I was lucky to be her granddaughter.
All her grandchildren adored her. She was always cheerful with an easy and assuring smile that just lifts you up. She told us a lot of stories, taught us things like whistling to “call the winds” when the weather was too warm or drinking coffee and dunking “galletas” in coffee before going to bed (and we were children then!). She was a woman of faith and we grew up watching her read her “Mahal na Pasyon” during Holy Week. She was impish and loving and fun.
She was a mischievous child, she told me. She used to steal her classmates’ lunch and would provoke a fight if caught red-handed. She was in a lot of fist-fights—with boys and girls. She was naughty and we had a really hearty laugh as she shared those memories with me.
Nanay Iska was full of life. She walked briskly, and was always on the go. Even after Tatay Boto (my grandfather, Benito Tolentino) died, she went on about her life, raising a couple of swines and collecting “kaning-baboy” (food scraps) from the neighbors everday. We used to come across each other at 6 every morning - me on my way to work/school, and she with her pail to collect “kaning-baboy.” Our standard greeting was “ a pretty granddaughter just like her beautiful grandmother,” and then we would laugh in the middle of the street. Oh, I loved the way we laughed together!
Ate Lodi (my older sister) and I spent most of our evenings with Nanay Iska when we were growing up (we were in elementary school). Our other cousins did, too. In my grandparents' old house, there would be this very long banig (sleeping mat) where there would be tons of pillows and where sometimes as many as four or five grandchildren would be sleeping. However, it was Ate Lodi and I who spent more time with them. Although we stayed in our own house during the day, we would go to our grandparents' house to sleep.
There was a reason for this. As children we used to play with our neighbors until late at night. If we went home, our mother would scold us for staying out late. Nanay Iska never did. All sticky and dirty from playing, we would go to their home where a warm bed would be ready for us every night, even during school night. She had no problem with us having fun and being children. She was our refuge.
Ate Lodi was her favorite. She was an A student and was consistently in the honor roll at the end of every school year. She was so proud of Ate Lodi that when she was in the fifth grade, Nanay Iska gave her a watch. It was a big deal for a child to have a watch at that age, and Nanay Iska was such a loving and generous grandmother.
People always mistook my mother and Nanay Iska as sisters. She looked a lot younger than her actual age - plus the fact that only about 16 or 17 years separated them. When I started dabbling in photography, I took several pictures of her. I captured her several moods and I loved those pictures. The one that I liked the most is one that showed her in a seemingly pensive mood. She did not like this picture because “she looked old.” Whoever said that vanity is for the young?
On New Years’s day, 1978, Nanay Iska and I went out. We saw a movie, window shopped at department stores and ate out. It was the first time she had gone out for fun. She hadn’t been to Makati (one of the prime shopping areas in the Philippines), hadn’t stepped on an escalator, hadn’t eaten at a fast food court. I watched her face glow with excitement with the new things she was experiencing. We had so much fun together that we went out again, this time with my mother and Ate Ellie.
At 76, Nanay Iska was full of life. Her daily routine started early in the morning where she went around the neighborhood for her pigs' food and spent the rest of her day with a variety of errands and chores. She was so vibrant that it was a surprise to everyone when she was hospitalized.
On May 15th, Nanay Iska had a stroke and was taken to the hospital. Hypertension runs in the family. My mother, Nanay Masiang (Nanay Iska's sister) and Nanay Iska all had this condition. Nanay Iska stayed in the hospital for three weeks and underwent serious and delicate treatments. On the first week of June, we took her home, to our house. My mother thought it would be best as all her other sisters had young children or work or both. With us all grown up, my mother was better able to attend to her mother.
It was summer break so all her grandchildren (most of whom were college students at the time) took turns in taking care of her and in keeping her company. This also helped develop a special bond among us. We would sit around her, talk to her, feed her, kiss her.
On June 13th, Friday, she had her last rites. She was conscious of it and would answer “Amen” as the priest performed the sacrament. That evening she died.
I think of Nanay Iska with such fondness and affection. I miss the knowing wink she and I would share when we would hide something naughty from my mother. I miss her hugs, her laughter, her excitement, the glow from her eyes.
Over 30 years after she passed away, and I still feel the warmth of her love. I was lucky to be her granddaughter.
posted by PHLOR TORREJOS at 9:53 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home