Remembering my mother ...
From: Paul L. Fuentes
To: Elen L. Fuentes
CC: Lulu L. Fuentes, Edna F dela Fuente
Subject: I Share My Deep Thoughts on Nanay
Date: Sat, 30 Nov 2002 9:08 pm
Dear mga kapatid,
Praise the Living GOD, greetings to you from Cavite, the soil where Nanay Onor was born.
Tingnan mo nga naman, when we were kids a long time ago, Nanay and Tatay used to bring us here in Imus, passing through Bacoor so many times. It never entered my mind that one day I would be residing in a land adjacent to where (in fact, a few kms away) Mr. and Mrs. Ponciano Lacson first caught the glimpse while a baby girl was being born many years ago (1922). It could have been a very happy moment for the two while choosing a name for that baby, later on named Leonor. This is the land which saw the growth of this sweet and kind, generous and courteous young lass till she reached puberty and early womanhood.
You know what, I've always heard Nanay talked about (during her sermons to us) how she trudged the streets of Real, Medicion, and Kuwartel barefooted with bilao of kakanin on her head just to earn few pennies. What I did was I traced all these streets; and while driving the car, I couldn't help but cry, tears rolling down my cheeks as the 4 wheels of the car I'm driving rolled through all those places. I stopped, got off, walked a few steps, looked around, saw the trees, heard the humming of the birds, felt the cold touch of softly blowing wind (typical of Cavite's usual cold surroundings), some people gazed at me as if they've never seen a man before. I stood there, reminiscing, looking like a fool, but who cares, my mind were filled with flashbacks, as far back as my mind could bring me, I tried to imagine how it all looked like through the eyes of a young girl, poor, deprived, maltreated. I felt I need to somehow look through her eyes. I feel that since I came from her, the blood running through the veins of my body came from her, somehow, there must be a point that how she felt and saw, could also be felt and seen by her son, myself. All of a sudden, the sun shined all the brighter, I felt the heat, scorching my skin. Then my mind shouted, is this the pain that my mother felt, walking barefooted on these places, selling and begging for somebody to buy from her bilao? No one could ever know what I felt. I think only GOD Almighty could have designed for the human heart and soul to feel this way towards a departed loved one, a mother. No school here on earth nor anything, could have taught the heart and soul to feel and act this way it is GOD-given, GOD-engrafted. Deep mixture of sorrow and joy damped my innermost being. And the only way to let it all out, was by crying, sobbing. Few minutes later, as if awakened from a deep stupor, I felt I was carried away for so long, the sudden rush of many jeepneys plying that area made me decide to get back into the car. Before reaching the car, an old woman caught up to me and asked, may hinahanap po ba kayo? Ah, eh, wala po, wala po. I started the engine and went pass the Kuwartel (now a fully-renovated Police Station), in the same spot where the Guardia Civil during Spanish era, used as garrison.
The power of memory given to us by GOD, our Creator. Thank you so much oh GOD.
Paul L. Fuentes
Remembering my father ...
From: Paul L. Fuentes
To: Edna F dela Fuente
CC: Lulu L. Fuentes
Subject: Remembering Tatay
Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2003 10:47 am
Dear Tol,
You know what, I got a chance to pass by yesterday, that building of Pious Recreation Center near Pandacan, I revisited the old swimming pool where Tatay used to bring us several times trying to get us learn how to swim, but neither one of us till now knows how, right? You were then 13 years old, and me, 12. It looks the same, nothing is changed, except the schedule of opening for public use. The paint of the surrounding walls, the stair handles of the pool, the fence, color of the flooring, sidings, etc. are the same. I could picture in mind where the two of us stood wading and dared not even move from the spot where Tatay left us, as the cold pool water teeming with swimmers from all walks of life doing all sorts of strokes many years ago, doing what I am now doing - reminiscing the good old days - and personally coming over this place just to bring back the past.
I could recall how Tatay bade at us to come to him and try the "timbol" strokes, he taught, remember? Afterwards, I re-traced the steps we made going from the pool down to the main exit door passing by a few square meters of lawn with Bermuda grass which was very attractive to look at. You know what, during one of our visits there (Tatay and myself only), I asked his permission, then, he nodded, the next thing I knew I was already rolling down on that verdant grass as if I were on a large bed of roses so nice and clean. Tatay just looked at me laughing all the way as we made our way to the bus stop.
As I walked past the main lobby and on to the street, that is, U.N. Avenue - Paz Guazon Street right in front of Asilo de San Vicente de Paul (an orphanage), I carefully looked around to see how it all looked like in the eyes of an adult, now I am 38. How Tatay may have seen them when he was still alive, aged 56. The color and paint of the entire building did not change, the pavement, the few trees that line the façade, all the same, after 26 long years. As I gazed upon the stretch of that Paz Guazon Street near Pandacan, suddenly, it turned to be a long highway of life, and came flashing all the faces of our family relatives both living and dead, scenes where each figured out in the stage of life, as far back as my memory could bring me. Then it dawned on me, GOD is fair, each of us are given time of our lives, we have equal chance to bloom where we are planted and enjoy life. It is only up to us how to look at things and live it all out as we will. We are free to do what we want in this life. Shakespeare is right, "to be or not to be, that is the question"
Then I waited for the coming of the mini-bus from Quiapo to Pandacan. I literally stood where we used to stand, and waited for several minutes. A mini-bus came, it was jampacked, just like before, where Tatay and myself used to hang on the "istribo," just to get home early as expected. But this time, I didn't ride the bus. I looked at the faces, to see familiar ones. I knew not even one. But the same facial expressions like before, many years back, looks of weariness, sadness, some were sleeping, others jubilant. How long will we stay in this long journey of life? Only God knows. So you better treat each present day as if tomorrow Jesus Christ is already coming. Make the most of it, for we know not what tomorrow may bring...
Paul L. Fuentes
