Sweet Mocha Cake . . . A Tribute to Gaudencia

It was my Lola Gaudi's 8nth birthday yesterday (she's not tracking years and so will I).

Anyway, I was supposed to see her yesterday but my lazy body was stuck at home (resting and reading and sleeping).

So I did visit her earlier today. I bought her a mocha caramel cake from the pastry area of SM Bacoor. When we were sharing the cake, I knew I made the right decision. I gave her a big hug when I arrived and helped in manning her store.

My granny Gaudi is partially blind in one eye and is a bit deaf at her age. She used to wear a hearing aide but decided to discontinue using it. It's a nuisance, she says. But this afternoon was one of the best bonding days I had with her.

While we were enjoying our cake slices, I asked her, "How are you?" And knowing all grannies, they would take you all the way back their memories would take them. She started out by saying she would love to have another birthday like she had this year. But looking at the day-to-day journey she takes, she then said that it would be painful to go through another year. Her body isn't as young as it was. It gives her a different feel, a different ailment, a different confusing signal every day. I got a bit sad about this. She has been wanting to be with the Lord Jesus for the last 5 years she has been in living in Bacoor. But I know the Lord has a plan for it all.

Then she remembers her own grandmother, who lived a ripe, full life of 115. She loved her grandmother so much and vice versa. She's the favorite granddaughter as well. The grandmother vowed that she will not leave the earth until her great-granddaughter is born. She would just sit all day, in her corner, praying all the time.

Being the favorite grandchild, some of her grandmother's children became jealous of the attention showered to her. The children would take their mother to their own homes in her chair, but she would resist all the way. She would scream and shout, indignant to be returned to her grandchild. (The grandma was living with my Lola Gaudi back then). So when she found out her lola was gone, she would run out and look for her. Of course, all the neighbors has heard the ruckus. They would point the way where Lola was brought. How powerful jealousy could be!

Then she jumped on, remembering the day she was about to give birth to her eldest daughter. She was brought to the hospital in the morning and gave birth to my Mommy Ana (this is my aunt's pet name in the family) Unbeknownst to her, the moment she delivered the baby was the exact same moment her grandmother gave her last breath.

Many came and visited the hospital. The first question she asked of them was, "How is my Lola?" And they would lie saying, "She still the same as you left her." Nightfall came, Gaudi was insisted that she be brought back home. She told the nurse. She told the doctor. But they replied saying they had no means of bringing her back that night. She had to wait till morning.

Morning came and she bugged the hospital staff with her urgency to go home. She was free to go, they said and she travelled home using the hospital vehicle. She got off the vehicle, and the rain was pouring hard. She scurried home knowing that the urgency she felt needs to be obeyed.

The moment she arrived, still drenched from the rain, she saw the coffin where her lola lay. She ran, she screamed, she hugged the coffin tight and cried for the loss of her loved one. People were trying to wrench her away from the coffin but she would stick to the coffin as if she were part of it. Then came her husband.

The husband was a bit cruel. He hit her so hard that she fell unconscious. When she woke up, she was in their home in Quiapo, a very long way from the wake of her grandmother. She says it was a miracle she lived through it without "Binat".

I wrote this as a tribute to her. I have only known my lola for, let's say, 21 years out of my 25. But she has lived for almost a century now. I don't know who her favorite apo is. She definitely has great-grand-children now. All I know is that I love her. I honor the fact that she is in my family tree, her blood in my veins. I cannot deny the fact that as I am writing, I am overwhelmed with great emotion.

Dying is where we all go. We will have to face it one way or another. But before that day comes, may the Lord permit that I may be able to spend a bit more time with her, listen to her stories, and chronicle them in my heart.

Her legacy is my life.