Sunday, December 17, 2006 Gil: Passing on the torch By Sandy Gil Sunday Dunes
Last of Four Parts
CREMATION. Vicky's ashes were sealed in a velvet-lined blue and white porcelain jar. Her 48-hour wake would be graced by her ashes in this beautiful jar, beside the last photo taken of her and surrounded by pretty flowers. Her smile in the photo was contagious. I do not know what she was laughing about. They told me that my youngest brother, the eighth among the siblings, had been teasing her about something when the photo was recently taken.
During her last day, Mom had seen her prone on the floor beside her bed in the playroom, gasping for breath. She could barely speak. Mom asked her if she was tired, and Vicky nodded. Then Mom held her daughter in her arms and assured her that it was alright to let go.
Vicky's husband and children were around her bed. My brother, Miguel, who is a doctor, came with his wife to constantly check her pulse. All my other siblings arrived intermittently. Soon enough, a priest came to bless her with the final rites; her religious community arrived to pray by her bedside. She did not die alone.
Miguel said there was no longer any pain when Vicky took her final breath.
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My sister, Myrna, was tasked to inform all four siblings who were not present that evening of Vicky's demise: a sister in Singapore, a brother in Chicago, another brother in Los Baños, and myself in Davao. She sent the four of us the same text message: Vicky just passed away.
To her chagrin, none of us acknowledged or replied to her text message. Thus, she was left in the dark. In fact, Myrna had to call my daughter Ella in Singapore to ask her to call my sister to find out whether she had received the message. In fact, Myrna sent the same message twice to my brother in Los Baños.
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The truth is when my siblings and I had gathered together after the cremation and during the wake, we figured that such text messages are truly difficult to reply to. What does one reply? K? Copy? Better yet, condolences? Or thank you?
Myrna said that the least we could have done was to curse or to express shock or something -- so long as she knew that we received her message.
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I suggested that next time, she should find a more creative way to send such message while being assured of a flow of communication. Myrna challenged me, like how? Well, I said after some deep thought, you could start off by asking us: Guess what?
My siblings laughed. Then one of them added: I'll give you three guesses!
-o0o-
The day Vicky's body was cremated (November 14) was also the birthday of the tenth child in the family, Ana, my favorite sister. Among all ten of us children and pretty as she is, she is the only who has remained unmarried. I believe that while she will never admit it, she has been traumatized by the marriages of all her older siblings, and probably wants to avoid any similar despair.
It was a weird birthday for her. Her friends had a totally uncomfortable time greeting her -- both happy birthday and condolences. While dinner was a catered buffet, it was held beside the chapel where Vicky's ashes lay. While there were many guests, they were wearing mostly black or white. And while there were lots of flowers, these were in the form of mortuary crowns with ribbons.
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On a cloudy Thursday morning, a Capuchin monk who was Vicky's spiritual adviser celebrated the final Mass. He said that life is actually a continuum, of which death is merely a part. It is when a person has finished her mission and is assured that her torch has been passed on that she graduates, with honors, on to the next phase of life. And indeed, such is a cause of celebration, and not grief and sorrow.
Vicky's ashes were finally laid to rest in a crypt beside my Dad's behind the church. And we all sang Christmas carols and nursery rhymes to celebrate her life.
It occurred to me. I might be writing to pass on my own torch.
