Letter Eleven: Of the Passed-On

To my Lola

Dear Lola,

My Lola, with every beat of my heart I miss you more and more.  I am guilty for the lessening of the Tagalog phrases I speak nowadays, although I do remember a few key ones.  When it's time to eat, I still mumble to myself: "Kain na!"  When I need my sandals, I ask Mama where my chinelas are.  When Daddy passes enormous gas, I wave my hand in front of my nose with thoughts of his terrible otut.  And perhaps I haven't spelled all the phrases completely correctly, but you understand the point I try to make.  I love you so much, and the day that you died a great person was taken from me, you who treated me so well, your first grandchild.  The first of your mga apo.

One thing I remember about Tagalog that you taught me, that I don't think I will ever forget, even if I dared try, would be your address to Lolo.  "TATA, TATA!" you would yell around the house, trying to find Lolo if you needed something.  We still joke about that with my uncles and my mother and father.  I don't think any other word has made such an impression on me.

I felt so horrible on the day you died.  I remember being in San Diego the exact day, February 25th, 2006.  We had gone shopping and eating with Auntie Cathy and her family when Mama got the call that you'd been moved to the Intensive Care Unit.  For that reason we had to come home, which I really didn't want to do.  And then, the most terrible and fleeting thought crossed my mind: Oh, well, she can go ahead and die.  Immediately after, the guilt pained in my stomach, and never have I felt so bad about thinking anything in my life.  You cared so much for me, and how could I think that, just because I wanted my vacation to last a little longer?  When Lolo called as we got in the car to leave, something hit me, and I knew.

I cried for hours and hours, as did Mama.  That was the first ever night I needed to cry myself to sleep, and that in itself helped set off my depression.

Yes, Lola, I'm sorry to tell you that I, as a teenager, have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety.  However, I'm making up for my shame by bringing home good grades, and trying to treat all my family with the respect you always treated me.

There is something that you probably already know, and that I heartily disapprove of, but I must accept: Lolo's remarriage.

Merly's not a terrible woman, from what I have seen, but there can be no legitimately good motive for a 48-year-old woman to marry an 82-year-old man.  Now that Lolo is 85 and she is 51, there is slightly less of a creepy factor to it, but I still can't hold her in my heart how I held you.  You were my Lola, special to me beyond all belief, and will always stay like that.

I love you, and miss you too much.

Your first grandchild,

Mia