My grandfather’s 12th death anniversary passed a few days ago. The nearing approach of this once sad day occurred to me on the last remaining days of January while I was taking pictures in Brgy. Prosperidad in San Carlos City. I noticed the long shadows during the late afternoon’s golden hours. They reminded me of summer.
In honor of this great man, I am sharing an article I wrote six years ago – during summer. It was the first summer that I was not able to go home, and the memories of my grandfather made me more homesick.
sum¢mer (sum ¢¶r) n. & adj. the usually warmest season of the year.
Summer is the time of the year when days are most often than not golden and languid during the afternoons and long shadows are signs of twilight. These scenes never fail in bringing a tinge of nostalgia.
The fondest memories that I often remember of my childhood were during summers. When my family moved from our hometown to a distant city, summer is the most looked forward time of the year. It is probably because before I entered school, I could not distinguish months. In addition, when I went to school, activities reminiscent of those times and our old place usually filled my summers.
Summers are not really summers when we were not at our grandparents’ place. My grandfather is a tall, fair-skinned man. He looked Spanish to me. However, never once I had seen in him famous Spanish temperaments. He was always kind and affectionate. Upon arriving at his house, he would usually give my brother and me a hug. And he would comment on how much we have grown since the last summer. He would stare at us with his light brown eyes – squinting. Everything he saw was in faded silhouettes. He was blind ever since I knew him.
My grandfather was a man of much dexterity. Although he could no longer see, he could still do the things he used to do when he was not blind. He would even make toys for us. My favorite was his ‘bee-sounding’ invention made of coconut leaves. He made them for me as far as I can remember but I never knew how to do them on my own.
Our summer vacations are not complete without my grandfather’s stories. He was one of the best storytellers I ever knew. He would tell us tales about the war, kapres, duwendes, aswangs and a cornucopia of the fables he knew. In all those many summers, he sometimes retells his stories but I never got tired of them. I still wanted to listen. They sounded magical to me. Perhaps the magic was not in the stories but in the storyteller.
One of the times I saw my grandfather cried was on the summer before I entered college. He again commented on how much I have grown since the last time we met. His tears flowed when he said that he is living his life one day at a time and he wants nothing else. He is enjoying each of his remaining days until his Maker calls him home.
I did not see my grandfather the next summer. He went home two months before school ended. From then on, not a summer would pass that I would not remember him. Summertime summons my memories of the great man.
Now, the days are usually golden and languid during the afternoons and long shadows are signs of twilight.
It is summer…
Beautifully written. Personally, stories about grandparents always bring some feelings of nostalgia and longing. I never had a conscious experience of the touch and voice of the old wise men from both parents. So your story brings back the longing again. And i don’t intend to fix it either. It’s simply there as long as it doesn’t tweak my sanity. Your best nooks and crannies – sometimes i just allow photos to speak to me without reflexively cooking my thoughts into written words.
kakalungkot pero yun ang buhay! sarap balik balikan ng mga alala sa mga lolo at lola…
ako din tuwing bakasyon nasa paternal grandparents kami..yung lolo ko ang nagturo sa akin ng mga bastos na tula nong hindi pa ako nag gagrade 1,hihi..lagi kaming pinaglalaga ng itlog ng native na manok at ang di ko makakalimutan sa kanya eh ang talent nya sa pag utot…nalalagyan nya ng tono,hahaha…ay sarap alalahanin
Very touching article, thanks for sharing.
thanks for sharing Mark, you brought me to tears especially in this stanza:
“One of the times I saw my grandfather cried was on the summer before I entered college. He again commented on how much I have grown since the last time we met. His tears flowed when he said that he is living his life one day at a time and he wants nothing else. He is enjoying each of his remaining days until his Maker calls him home.”
I too am very fond of my lolo, but I could not remember when was the last time I saw him cry. All I know, in my young mind I cried a lot when we lost him, up to now, I still give stories of him to my friends how my lolo who has never gone to school became my Math Idol, though he never got into grade 1 or any school but he knows how t read, write and calculate. He was such an inspiration to me, that no matter how difficult life would be, no matter how uneducated you are because of poverty, you still can become self-educated to make the most and to improve your life and especially of the family that you care for. Anyway, my lolo was such a humble person, he always plant root crops in our backyard and pineapple, all sort of vegetables and fruits so that we won’t be dependent on market for foods, he has has a fruit stand in the market. Anyway, thanks for sharing your beautiful post about your grandfather Mark, it truly brought warm into my heart, though in tears, but smiling.
wow.lolo will be very proud of you.na miss ko tuloy bigla lola ko.i grew up with her because my folks went abroad to work.she died of breast cancer.i really cried because i literally saw her in her deathbed.but i know she’s happy where she is now.
‘Perhaps the magic was not in the stories but in the storyteller.’
-Amen to this.
btw,i like the pic,as usual.. :p
kakaiyak naman… kakalungkot.
sayang di kami close ng lolo ko. masunget kasi yon, isa kasing dating sundalo, mula ng mawala ang lola ko mas pinili na nyang sa bukid manirahang mag isa, aso, manok, at mga halaman ang pinili nyang kasama. alam ko malungkot don, ang matatanda pa naman sabik sa kausap, maaagang nagigising. ang hirap yata non, kaso hindi ko naman alam kung anong maitutulong ko sa kanya!
sarap namang bumisita dito… ngayon lang ako napasyal dito kasi ung URL mo ngayun ko lang din nakuha!
Hehe. Nothing against your photo descriptions, Mark. 3 times ko yata binalikan and then on the 3rd time, i noticed i did not write some feedback.
Oh my. I was in tears reading this post. It reminded me of my own grandfather. At first I thought no one would actually love their grandparents this much they would write an article about it. Habang binabasa ko tumulo bigla luha ko. Naalala ko tuloy kung gano ko kamahal si Lolo at Lola. Iba talaga kapag family ang topic sa blog. Tagos sa puso. Huhu.. Bakit ba ang emotional ko yata ngayon?! T__T
that was so touching! it made me reminisce my own memories with my grandparents.
i was almost on the verge of tears upon reading about your grandfather’s blindness. my father has been blind for almost 20 years now and i know how difficult it is for him that’s why i always have soft spots for people who are blind.
Hi Mark! this is a very touching story. It makes me want to go home and give my grandma a big hug.
hmmm… taleweaving runs in the blood!
Whenever I read posts like this, I’m reminded of the song “Leader of the Band” with the lines:
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man.
I’m just a living legacy of the leader of the band.”
If Lolo can read your blog in the afterlife,
i’m sure he’s very very proud.
God bless and thank you for your well-reflected comment on my last post. it comforted me in many ways. madamo guid nga salamat!
Hi,
I just read your story of your Grandfather. isn’t it wonderful to have these memories? He sounded like a special “Grandpa.”
wow.. ang galing naman ng pagkakasulat dito, na touched ako
stirring TT summers and reminiscence. I am looking for a place where summers never end as long as may ulan lang gamay from time to time. hehe. summers make me the happiest girl in the planet too. this post unveils a great story. i seldom read men penning down about their grandpa. it’s delicate. sepia and beautiful. like carousels and rocking chairs.