Ms. Pakipot: Short-ended nga lang

'You may now take your seats.' Yan ang unang mga salitang lumabas sa aking mga bibig kasabay nang isang ngiting abot-tenga.

Nyahaha... Ang sarap pala ng feeling na ikaw mismo ang makakapagbanggit ng mga salitang iyon. Nagmimistula akong napakaimportanteng tao. Wahaha... Akala ko lang iyon. Masama bang purihin paminsan-minsan ang sariling tuyot sa papuri? Hindi naman siguro, di ba?

Eto na nga. Inimbita ako ng graduating class ng Sagada National High School para sa Senior's day nila. Aba, ako naman itong si Ms. Pakipot. Tumanggi daw ako a. Feel na feel ko talaga. Ang totoo niyan, kakatapos lang nung libing ng kulang nalang sa 1 year, eh century old na lola ko. Eh, sa dami ng mga pinaggagagawa naming mga Igorot dahil sa pagmamahal sa aming kultura at dahil na rin sa respeto ng aming mga ninuno, baka hindi ko mapaghandaan ng husto yung alok nila. Siyempre, kelangan kareerin ang pagka-panauhing pandangal at kung hindi ay baka mauwi sa panauhing walang dangal.

Ehe. Okay na sana eh. Umayaw na ako at tinanggap naman ni Sherenne (siya yung nagtext kung available daw ba akong mag-guest speaker). Sabi pa niya, maghahanap daw sila ng iba. Tinanong niya rin ako kung may pwede pumalit sa aking puwesto (Aba, may pwesto na daw ako.) Siyempre, nag-suggest ako ng di lang isa. Madami akong na-suggest. Sila Rose, Kimberly, Wilfredo, Lester, Daniel at Cindy. Kasama na rin diyan si Manang Karen, Manang Roxanne, Manong JR, Manong Chester, etc.

So, happy na ako sa desisyon na iyon. Wala na akong problema. Sayang man ang oportunidad pero wala akong magagawa. Marami pa namang Senior's day ang darating. Lumipas ang dalawang araw. Naging textmate kami ni Sherenne. Pamangkin din kasi siya nung may-ari ng bahay na nirerentahan namin.

Papunta na ako sa Dao-angan para tumulong para sa unang 'senga' ni lola. Kalalabas ko lang ng bahay nang bigla kong nakasalubong si Sir Cal. Napahapo ako sa noo. Naku, patay ako nito. Yun na nga. Tinanong ni Sir kung nagtext daw ba yung mga seniors. Nilahad ko na lahat pati na rin yung dahilan ko sa di ko pagpayag, pati na rin yung mga na-suggest kong mga mas nararapat maging panauhing pandangal. Nagulat ako sa sagot ni sir. Isang napaka-cool at walang kaabug-abog na, 'NO'. Alam ko namang magaling mangumbinse si Sir. Ang di ko alam, ganito pala siya kagaling mangumbinse. Isang salita lang at POOF! I became koko-crunch. Wahaha... Walang aangal. Bakit ba? Kakaenroll ko palang sa Cheesy 101. Pero, ang cool talaga ni Sir. Idol!

Kaya ayun, tinanggap ko ang offer. The END.

The Debt That All Men Pay

From the confines of my work table

I was beating the deadline. I've got three more 500 word articles to write in just an hour and there I was--stumped. My mind's not working. It felt like all the words were scrubbed clean from the parts of my brain along Broca's and Wernicke's abode. So, I tried to take a break. I visited my Facebook account and said a few hellos to my twitter followers. It was not a few minutes after I logged in to these social networking sites when I received a text message from my mom that my grandmother was in the hospital. Yes, my grandmother was sick and had been in the hospital for about a week or so. I've planned to take a week off from work inorder to visit her and my boss eagerly agreed but to start my week off on March 6. It was February 26.

A minute later, my cellphone kept beeping with a continuous array of incoming messages. My mother has been keeping me updated about grandma. I was worried. I was e-mailing my employer that I had to go home the next day. Five minutes later, mom said grandma's breathing was slowing down. That was when I realized grandma wasn't about to make it through the night, though I prayed she would atleast wait for me to come home. A minute later after I have sent an email to my employer, ma informed me grandma passed away. It was 7:30 that evening.

I really didn't know what to do for a while. I was shocked. My grandma was old but I never expected her to pass away that early. She was strong. The last time I was home, she was singing and talking frantically. That was a month ago.

And then I felt something. It was a familiar feeling-- a feeling of guilt, a little bit of anger, and a great deal of sadness. Yes, I've felt this way before. And now all those feelings I've gotten over with are now coming back to haunt me one more time. I've never really been there beside my dad when he was battling the Big C. I've been in school trying my very best to make my parents proud of me. I never even knew how grave my dad's condition was until mom had us (my 2 sisters and my brother) visit him at St. Luke's. I never knew he was dying until I saw him go lifeless as I held on to his hands while he was getting prepared for dialysis. It was too late for me to act even though I still tried to connect my dad's oxygen tube to the porthole and up the dosage to 10 litres per minute. My hands were shaking so bad. I wanted to cry but then tears failed to fall. I found myself staring at my mom, crying so hard, so jealous of those tears streaming down her lovely face. I was shocked, stunned, blank, zilch. And then I had to do the hardest thing to do that day. I had to tell my sisters and my barely out-of-toddlerhood brother that dad has passed away. That day was the saddest and the most difficult day in my life.

And here I am feeling the same way about my grandma. The guilt, the anger, the sadness. I never thought I'd feel this way again but here I am wallowing in the same quicksand I have saved myself from years before.

I sent a quick message to my friends that I could not make it for the Itogon outing, logged off and prepared to go home the next day. I never even sent an e-mail to my employer that I am taking the week off early. I just packed my things and stayed up all night, being kept updated by my mom and relatives back home.

The next day was a bit gloomy, as if it was grieving with me. I hopped on the bus bound for home and forced myself to sleep or else I'd just embarrass myself crying all the way home.

I reached Dao-angan in the afternoon and people were just starting to fall in. I went straight to look for my grandma and there she was in her room, on her bed, asleep. Peaceful. I swear I saw her chest rise as I walked in. I looked down upon her face and then I really knew that she is never coming back. Never again will I hear her voice. Never again will I see those beautiful 'bolinawan' eyes. Never again will I see her get out of her seat and brave to crawl the downward path to the pigpen to feed the pigs and crawl right back up to the house while weeding. Never again will I see her hunched down uprooting my uncle's freshly-planted flowers. Never again will I see her talking to the seemingly moving images on a magazine. Lots of things I will never ever see again except when I reel back to back when. I knew right then when I was looking down at her that she will be dearly missed and her memories never forgotten. I silently prayed that the Lord would keep guiding grandma as she finds her way right into His kingdom.

I silently asked for forgiveness from Grandma for shouting at her before and for losing my patience about such trivial things as poking the fire when it's burning, weeding, losing her dentures, and even removing her diapers. I knew it was not my responsibility and I have no right to chide her for doing these. I am so sorry that it was only now that I have understood what it was to be old. Enrolling in the Nursing course helped me realize the wrong things I've done before. And now I feel guilty of the past. I never had the time and commitment to right what I've done wrong. And now I'm too late. I was a day, a month, a year, a lot of opportunities too late. I know the Lord knows how sorry I am and I do hope that wherever grandma is now, she knows how I feel. Forgive me.

I hope that someday when I am able to pay the debt that all men pay, Grandma would be there standing beside St. Peter, my father, Uncle Rudy, Uncle Greg, Uncle Steve and Uncle Jesus, smiling, reaching her hand to me and welcoming me to enter those ever-famous Pearly Gates.

Rosaria 'Basali' Na-oy Capuyan: An Unsung Hero

Here I am, sitting in front of my computer typing anything that comes to my mind. I have lost an hour of electricity thinking of how I could start this article. I haven’t come up with anything catchy and so this state.

For the past few days since my grandmother passed away, I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even think of something to write. I was told by my cousin to write something about my grandmother, just like a tribute, and nothing came to mind. I had, I think, writer’s block. Well, the stress and the shock of my grandmother’s departure may have some effect to that. Usually, I could think readily of something to write if the need comes up. My mind was just a blank slate. I was distracted. I was tired. I was not my usual self. But…

Amidst everything that transpired, I still had a little strength to keep the blood running through my veins and start writing. So here goes: There haven’t been much time spent between my grandmother and I when I was a child for as long as I could remember but I do believe that my grandmother was and will always be a woman of all sorts—a caring and protective mother, an industrious and responsible daughter, a strict and loving grandmother, a no-holds-barred and compassionate aunt, a giving and forgiving sister, a trusted and trusting friend.

Yes, that’s what the name Rosaria ‘Basali’ Naoy Capuyan holds. She may be petite but to me, she held the world at her hands. That said, I know of one thing (which my mother and father relayed to us when we were young). Grandma Basali was never one to shy away from ominous rumblings of danger or crumble down when storms of challenges rush past her. She was never one to back down. She was never a person to think of herself first before others. Never selfish. Never one to cower when bolts of obstacles strike from the heavens. Instead, she braved every raging storm, every bullet of trouble, every downpour which brought danger to her loved ones. My grandmother was that strong – a superhero in my own slit inscrutable eyes.

Images of my spent time with Grandma rush past my eyes as I look upon my Grandma's face on her bed. I remember when I was young, Grandma Basali took me to Danonoy to "lumokso". I would never forget the time when I went with her to the fields and watched as she dug up the soil and was amazed as elongated things from the ground emerged as she turned the soil inside out and there I was watching from the sidelines. I called these Things "food from the ground" and later on learned they were called camote.

My Grandma has been forever an epitome of a tender loving and caring Grandma. As we were about to go home from the fields, she would pack some of the camote she gathered in a piece of cloth or sack and tied the ends together. Then she attached it to the end of a stick and gave it to me to carry and then we went on our way home. This only shows that she always did everything to make things easier and better for others.

Even after years and years of not seeing Grandma as she was in the States, she still came back as a tender-loving and caring Grandma. She would always tell us to feed the people first before we feed her. At 92, she could still walk well and find a pot to use for cooking rice. She would always tell us to check if there would be enough food or if we have cooked rice because as she always says, "inayan tay nu wada dumateng".

I am really really grateful that the Lord has bestowed upon us a Grandma as grandma Basali. I, with my sisters and brother are really thankful that you are our Grandma. Thank you very much for having our dad and for having us.

I would never forget what you have done for us, Grandma. You will always be part of us and your memories will linger on. Keep guiding us as you always have done. We will miss you dearly.

----- Bravo's Angels ------