top of page
Writer's picturetheoraclejourn

๐…๐„๐€๐“๐”๐‘๐„๐’ | ๐—จ๐—ป๐˜€๐—ฒ๐—ฒ๐—ป ๐—›๐—ฒ๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐—น๐—ผ๐—ผ๐—บ๐˜€

Report by Mary Ruth Orendain | Graphics by Jayane Leslie Felicianoย | Layout by Angilene Dableo


Some stories merely linger as echoes of yesterdays that do not belong to me. My parents' tales of their own mothers and fathers remain as distant murmurs from a world I could not touch. Though they spoke of wrinkled hands that braid their hair, of warm laps that rocked them to sleep, and voices that apparently told them endless tales of the time from World War II, for me, these stories were like heirlooms locked away in a dusty atticโ€”treasured, yet just beyond my reach.


In Filipino culture, Lolos and Lolas hold a revered place, not solely as caregivers, but as the moral compass and memory keepers of the family. Their stories and lessons are seen as vital links to the past, making sure that traditions and values are passed on to younger generations.


๐—œ๐—ป๐—ต๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐˜๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฐ๐—ฒ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐˜†๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ฏ๐—น๐—ผ๐—ผ๐—ฑ ๐—น๐—ถ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐˜€


As I grew up, I watched my friends gather around the arms of their grandparents after every Sunday school and church service, their faces lighting up with a joy that only blooms in their presence. I stood at a distance, observing these gentle exchangesโ€”silent and wistful.

ย 

There was Mrs. Virgie, the grandmother of my close friend. Her laughter filled every room, and her eyes crinkled at the corners like paper folded with care. She would often catch me lingering nearby, listening to her stories of long-ago summers and lifeโ€™s hard-won lessons. I remember laughing at how sheโ€™d tell me that there werenโ€™t many things to do back in the day and thatโ€™s why their family tree now is as big as a narra tree. When she smiled at me, it was with a warmth that wrapped around my heart like a soft, familiar blanketโ€”moments where I felt a connection to a world, I had never been part of, a world where grandparents were beholders of memories, the keepers of wisdom passed down through time.


Then there was Lolo Eugene, who owned the small store across the street from our home. Whenever I bought canned food, he would inspect each one carefully. I would observe his brows knitting with concern if he found even the slightest dent on the ones I chose. "Pick another one," he'd say with gentle insistence, or when I'd buy soft drinks, he'd point me toward the houses that sell ice because he did not sell it, even though I didnโ€™t speak of needing it. He would also deliver our gasoline tanks, and though his steps were slow and labored with age, he never faltered. Sometimes, when I returned from school, heโ€™d ask me how my day was, his words slow and deliberate, as if each one was meant to be savored.


๐—ฆ๐—ฎ๐˜ƒ๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฐ๐—ต ๐—บ๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐˜ ๐˜„๐—ถ๐˜๐—ต ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ๐—บ


With the fast-paced, busy lifestyles of today, many people become so engrossed in their own routines that they may let their grandparents fade into the background. As work and educational demands pull them in different directions, the once-vibrant connections with elderly family members often become shadowed and distant. But here's a word of advice: savor each moment with them in whatever way you can. Time is a fleeting gift, and the moments you share with your grandparents are irreplaceable. Whether it's a simple phone call, a visit, or even just sitting in their company, these interactions carry a profound weight.


โ€œ๐™๐™ค ๐™ก๐™ž๐™ซ๐™š ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™๐™š๐™–๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™จ ๐™ฌ๐™š ๐™ก๐™š๐™–๐™ซ๐™š ๐™—๐™š๐™๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™ž๐™จ ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฉ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™™๐™ž๐™š." ๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜Š๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ


Though I never had a grandparent around growing up, through the pure souls of others, I discovered what it means to be loved by someone who has weathered the peaks and valleys of lifeโ€”someone who sees the world with a clarity that only time can bring. Their stories became my stories, their wisdom became a part of my understanding of the world, whilst their kindness and gentleness filled the void I had always felt.


It was all around me. I realized that I didnโ€™t need my own to experience the depth of someoneโ€™s love. It was in the smiles of old women in the market, in the patient words of elders who offered advice to anyone who would listen, and in the quiet, simple yet unyielding support of those elders around us.


To be a bit reminded much like in the movie Coco, where the memory of their grandparentsโ€™ departed lives--still lives on through the stories and love shared by those they leave behind, let us savor their memories with them. Let them linger for as long as we can.

------

contact us:


๐—ฉ๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐˜๐—ฎ๐˜€ โ€ข ๐—”๐—พ๐˜‚๐—ถ๐˜๐—ฎ๐˜€ โ€ข ๐—Ÿ๐—ถ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐˜๐—ฎ๐˜€



ย 

Comments


bottom of page