The First of Our Names: A collection of love letters to our grandparents

The First of Our Name is a collection of love letters to grandparents, as retold by our writers who are certified Lola’s girls. This is their tribute to the heroes of their lives.

Lola Kikay and Lolo Temo

As the first of eight grandkids, I looked up to my Lola Kikay and Lolo Temo as heroes — my doting “Mommy and Daddy” who, for me, are bowling champions who could rival legends like Paeng Nepomuceno and Bong Coo.

At her prime, my Lola was a goddess in the kitchen and a master of sewing machines. I’d look forward to the months of April-May as this signaled my annual “fitting” of freshly-sewn uniforms. You see, Mommy did my school uniforms until my last year in college. Looking back, I should’ve kept some sets for posterity. Her precision and attention to detail were definitely works of art!

Lolo Temo, on the other hand, always made sure I’d get to and from school in one piece. At that time, my parents were busy making ends meet, so my Lolo was left with the Herculean task of making sure I’d get home safe. I used to envy the “freedom” of my classmates who’d commute daily. I foolishly sulked when our family decided to venture into the school service business to “maximize” the time my Lolo spent waiting for me.

I deliberately chose to go to college in UST so I could “experience” the “joys” of public transport, only to conveniently pull them as my lifeline when I lack the patience to hail a ride. Now that I had no choice but to either drive or commute, I realized how lucky I was to have a trusted ward in the guise of my Lolo. Bonus points also for being my human alarm clock until college. Imagine the commitment it took to rouse a stubborn grandchild for what? 16 years?

My grandparents’ language of love was service, and it was easy for me to take it for granted at that time. Now, whenever I see Mommy and Daddy, the constant struggle to survive this pandemic is very evident.

They used to look forward to their weekend “classes,” a.k.a. bingo sessions at the mall, but since the pandemic started, the farthest they could go is the daily shuffles in our front yard. The pandemic stole not only their favorite pastime but also the sense of having something to look forward to. They both survived World War II but barely managed to win the battle against the unseen enemy this year: COVID-19. Our family went through the torturous ordeal of almost losing Mommy twice during this pandemic. As the last “Tan” standing in a brood of nine, Lola Kikay’s brushes with death took their toll on her physically.

Still, who am I to complain? We were so blessed to have more spare time to spend with them. They may not be as limber and sharp as they used to be, but sometimes, if I look close enough, I could still catch glimpses of the active, feisty, and gregarious versions of their youth.

Daddy is now 92, while Mommy is 86. I’ve been with them all my life, and I will forever be grateful. — Aileen, grandchild

Lola Pe and Lolo Amang

Even if they deny it, I know that I have always been their favorite grandchild.

I was sent to Zambales at a very young age and they took care of me since my parents were in "survival mode" in Manila. Lola Pe would cook my favorite adobong utong and sing lullabies before I sleep. Amang, on the other hand, would walk with me around the neighborhood and do magic tricks. I always felt wrapped up in love, whenever I'm with them.

Then when I had to study in Manila, I always looked forward to summer break because it meant that I would travel back to Zambales and spend time with Amang and Lola Pe. Amang would bring us to his farm very early in the morning and we would stay there until dusk. My siblings and I would help him on his farm, gathering vegetables, "kuhol" and roasting cashew nuts. We bathed and pretended to be mermaids in a nearby stream, and rode a carabao on the way home. Life back then was like a scene in an Amorsolo painting and I've always cherished that simple provincial life.

My Amang had a tough childhood; his parents separated when he was young and had families of their own. I’ve always thought of him as the strong silent type, but when I got to know him, I was surprised by his great sense of humor.

My Lola, on the other hand, was a no-nonsense woman. She was eager to try new experiences and live life the way she wanted to. They’re both survivors and they even got through the Mount Pinatubo explosion together! If they were able to survive a catastrophe such as that, I’m sure they can get through anything life throws at them.

Amang and Lola Pe taught me to always put family first and to remember the simple joys in life. They don’t need much to be happy. They’re always grateful and content with what they have.

My grandparents are fighters and this pandemic is proof. Whenever we call them, they never run out of great stories to tell. They are aware of their ikigai: their reason to wake up every morning, and strived to find purpose every day. They we're even the first ones in our barrio who volunteered to get vaccinated.

Not a single day goes by without me thinking about them. I just hope this pandemic will end soon and my only wish is to see them again. — Mimi, grandchild

Nanay Pacing

I am a proud Lola's girl. I was named after my two grandmothers. Nanay Pacing is my remaining living grandparent. She has always been a big role model in my life so aside from trying to emulate her graceful ways, I always consult her with my life decisions and share with her my triumphs, even when I was a child.

Nanay is a deeply religious person and a devout Catholic. Lent was a busy time for our family - from the Visita Iglesia where I get to marvel at the architecture of 14 churches (if it's somewhere I have never gone to, I get three wishes!) to the prusisyon where I get to enjoy beautiful flower arrangements and feel sad at the same time about Christ's ultimate demise. 

In her prime, she would organize the annual "Pabasa ng Pasyon" and be able to gather all her tenants. Together, they would sacrifice sleep to cook, sing, eat, and pray in batches for three days. The actual pabasa was just 24 hours but prep and clean up took two days. Little Marisse was the designated delivery girl who makes sure the small bowl of boiled egg, peanuts, and candies are always full. As a reward, I get to keep a bit of candy after.

My mom often tells me that even if my Lola has not finished her education, she has a killer instinct for business. If summer vacation comes, Nanay would sell or offer bicycles for rent for the kids who want to enjoy summer to the fullest. And when the rainy season comes, she’d sell umbrellas and notebooks with sewn binders instead of metal wires. There were also tales of Nanay being a businesswoman with integrity. Mom always emphasized how Nanay would sell rice at a higher price because she never mixes them with the cheaper kind to maximize profit. Then when we got older, Nanay stopped selling alcoholic beverages and cigarettes, even if it cost her, because she cannot forbid us from something she sold in her own store.

If anything, Nanay Pacing's favorite reminder is to "Love God and neighbor," which is how I and everybody have always seen her practice. Not only is she our paragon of faith in our family, but Nanay is also our reminder of God's compassion and mercy. Nanay treats everyone fairly, no matter who they are or what they have done. She brings light, hope, and mercy to everyone around her, and that is why everyone loves her so much.

Nanay may not be as physically strong as before, but she remains healthy with her steady diet of fish, veggies, hygienic ways, regular exercise, and the protection and love of all of us in our family and her big, big circle. She came out a champion from her quadruple bypass in 2015 at the age of 85 and a titanium implant on her thigh in 2018 at the age of 88. She showed us that a strong spirit can really power through any bodily weakness. We are always inspired and humbled by how she was able to surpass life's trials while still taking care of us and everyone around her. Nanay, you really are a blessing to us all, we thank you and we love you so much! — Marisse, grandchild

Lolo Godofredo and Lola Noemi 

If there’s one thing that my parents taught me, it’s that distance should never be a hindrance to make your family feel your love.

I grew up in an unconventional family. For two decades, Mama worked abroad while Papa stayed at home with me and my younger sister, as a househusband. Back then, working as an OFW was the only option for our increasing family expenses. While Mama worked abroad, Papa took on double roles as a father and a mother here in the Philippines. As for Mama, though she was miles away, she always kept in touch.

Now that I have become a mother myself, I saw how Mama consistently made an effort to communicate and keep in touch with my daughter Bea, her one and only grandchild. While she was away, she’d always video chat with her and send her cute clothes.

After surviving COVID-19 alone in Saudi Arabia, my mother went home to retire from being an OFW. Now that she’s back home, she and Papa will travel for almost 9 hours just so they could spend some quality time with my kid.

From when I was a child up to now that I have a child of my own, my parents stayed true to their word. They always made an effort to show their love even when they’re miles away from us.

My parents are now in Butuan, enjoying the humble home they built from their hard work and teamwork. As for us, we're enjoying the beautiful foundation they built for our family that's rooted in their love for Christ.

My sister and I would not be where we are now if not for the sacrifices of our parents. I would not be the mother that I am today without the example that my parents set for me.

“Kalimutan mo na ang lahat anak, ‘wag lang ang magpasalamat sa Diyos”—this is my Papa’s constant reminder. So, I thank the Lord, for giving me the best parents, and giving my child the best grandparents one could ask for. — Matet, daughter

Apung Kiska

Every time we go home to Pampanga to visit my grandmother — Apu, as I call her — we would have ice cream ready for her pasalubong. She would pair it with rice or biscuits. And, we would enjoy the sweet treat over her stories from when she worked for the Americans in Clark, her sing and dance performances of Kapampangan songs, and photos of her giving in to our peace signs and wacky poses.

She doesn’t seem to be the strict woman from my mama’s stories when they were kids. Though she sometimes gets annoyed when we get loud and rowdy, her love and affection for her grandkids speak louder than her Kapampangan voice.

My Apu lost her parents early and she had to take care of her younger brother and mature earlier than other kids. She didn’t live comfortably as a child, but she always stayed grateful. She never complained, but instead, worked harder. She had always been content with what she had, whether in lack or in plenty. She also never lost her faith. She never asked for anything, but she was always willing to give. When she started to live comfortably, she still lived life with simplicity. These values, she passed on to her children and to us.

With every visit to her home in Pampanga, we always had something to bring home — from fruits from her garden, kakanin she made herself, to stories and lessons we could pass on even to our future kids.

But my latest visit to see my grandma in Pampanga was different. She no longer welcomed us with her home-cooked dishes and sticky treats. I could no longer hear her singing Kapampangan songs from her favorite radio. I cannot catch a  glimpse of her eating ice cream with rice or biscuits. There are no more Leron Leron Sinta sing and dance performances that would make us laugh and smile.

My last visit in 2017 was already to bid farewell. At her wake, many came to see her one last time. Each night was packed with relatives, neighbors, and even strangers. All of them had their share of stories and memories of how my Apu made an impact in their lives. I’ll always be proud to be one of her grandchildren. And every time I wear a few of the daster I took home from her closet, I feel as if she’s still here.

It’s been four years since my grandmother came home to the Lord and headed off to reunite with her greatest love in heaven, my grandpa who died when I was still in my Mama’s womb. My Apu’s no longer here, but all the memories and stories I have of her, I will cherish for as long as I live. — Flok, grandchild