“Life is short. Don’t you understand? We’re put on this world for a reason. God put you here for a purpose.”
There’s a lot that you can tell about a person based on appearance. Years of burden on tattered clothing. Wrinkles carry years of experience and wisdom. A body that cannot hold up anymore because of the weights that life has brought down. A stern look to notify me that I am supposed to take him seriously. All he wants is to teach me a lesson. How can I not take him seriously? He’s my grandfather after all. Life is short, but let me know what I want to do with it.
He would tell me stories to which he believes I can relate to. How he grew up in Metro Manila and how he had to struggle to get an education. How his parents were tight on money and that it was difficult to send him and his 7 siblings through school. How the Japanese occupied the Philippines during World War II. How he sent my dad over from the Philippines to America, and the struggle it took to come here.
No doubt these were fascinating stories to hear. But the way in which he would tell the stories is what irked me. Stern, pale, critical. He never told stories just to tell stories. “Everything has a lesson. You just have to go find it” he would always say. I mean for hell’s sake, I’m only eighteen! These aren’t the things that I’m thinking about. School, girls, internships, jobs, etc. Those are the kind of things that I’m thinking about! I don’t have to the time to understand the sanctity of life or the grace of every opportunity I get. I’m trying to make a name for myself.
“Hey. Hey! Nakikinig ka ba?” he’s asking if I’m listening.
“Huh? Yeah. Yeah of course Tatay! I was just thinking about what you said.”
“Uh huh. Sure.”
“I was! But hey, thanks for the advice Tatay! I’m going to head to class. I’ll visit you later. I’ll tell the nurses to take good care of you.”
“Magkita tayo mamaya. Suwerte.” He tells me good luck as I leave the hospital.
Life has not been kind to my grandfather. If there was one word to accurately describe him, it is “work”. Age has not stopped him from doing work, whether it be taking care of myself and my cousins when we were younger or faking a smile through the pain he feels.
My grandfather has cancer. Thats about as blunt as I can say it.
I really haven’t thought about it all that often to be honest. I guess the pain has been numbed from all the experiences prior to this. My grandmother died of cancer when I was seven and my cousin died of the same disease when I was fifteen.
That was the most difficult death to get over. My cousin. I remember the short walks I would have with him when I was younger. The times we would sit on the table of my Tito’s house as he would help me figure out what 7 times 7 was. I always got that one wrong. I would always say 14, but then he’d laugh and tell me that I’m not adding. He always knew how to make me laugh.
I feel like I’ve been prepared for moments of hardships like this since I’ve been younger.
But it’s hitting me right now as I sit in my car. How can I not think about this more than I should? That’s my grandfather sitting in the hospital. And here I am, getting ready to head to class. Worrying more about some stupid scantron quiz that I’m going to be taking rather than being with my grandpa for who knows how much longer.
There are little things that catch my eye as I continue to make my way to class. I take notice to intricate things that remind me of the past.
A grandfather is walking his grandchild down the street. I remember when grandpa would pick me up from elementary school and take me around the corner to pick out what candy bar I want. He was always generous like that. I attribute the extra weight I have to him actually, as I chuckle to myself. He always catered to my wishes, which I definitely took for granted when I was younger.
There is a park on the right side of the street. I picture grandpa playing with me when I see the park equipment. Monkey bars occupied most of my time, as he would make sure that I don’t hurt myself. Now that I think about it, the swings were another place that I loved; back during a time that I didn’t have to worry about life. The only thing I had to worry about was mom finding out that I was playing Gameboy without her consent. Grandpa always took care of me and kept me safe. Although he was older, he’d always play with me because he knew that I wanted to spend time with him. He never even batted an eye, although I’m sure I was a tiresome burden. He never showed that though, he always smiled.
Here I am now, reminiscing in my car as I am pulling into the parking lot. Remembering a time that was so much simpler, hoping earnestly that I can go back to those times; back to a time where I wasn’t responsible for my own actions. A time where I can lean on people like my grandpa to lead me through life. But that’s not how things work out. We grow up, and sometimes we forget those that take us to where we are.
