THIS week, we must move from the parking lot to spend some time with my Auntie Betty Angara Cariño, wife of Uncle Philip, who – while first cousin to my father – grew up as brother to him and his sibs. Read: He is more “ours” than Balacbac's, where his mother Kinja reigned. Kinja was the youngest sister of Dr. Jose, father of my father.
Auntie Betty passed last Wednesday at the Notre Dame after a number of cardiac arrests and revivals. The FB PM from Fidelis to inform me came in the early morning, just a few hours after I left the hospital, actually.
By then Fabi had arrived with Jai.
Jai is Fabi's son. Fabi is short for Fatima Fabiola. She and Fidelis, more often now called Fides, are sisters. Auntie Betty as of this writing is at St. Peter's on Marcos Highway. On Saturday, when this piece sees circulation, she will be laid to rest.
In the family we have the tendency to think that she will then be met in the afterlife by our dear departed who “left” earlier. Though I am just now thinking, will this be at Mount Pulag or elsewhere, since Auntie Betty, like my own mother, is very uh, Catholic. But no matter. Surely the God of one, as it is said, is the God of all.
When the Kisad gang of us cousins were children -- no Fabi around yet even -- Auntie Betty would feed us all manner of merienda in her backyard, which was the backyard of this cottage between my grandfather's “Upper” and “Lower” houses and was also thus called “Cottage.” I.e., “Let's go.” Where? “Cottage.”
In the backyard, there were these stones in a circle we could sit on to eat champorado. I have a really distinct memory of playing and playing and then running to those stones to get fed by Auntie Betty. No Fidelis in the picture yet, even, methinks.
Auntie Betty much later found her way to the staff of the City Prosecutor's Office of Baguio City, from where she then retired more than a decade ago. It is of her as office woman that I have the most memories, including the one of her in high heels rushing about. Speaking of which, she wore high heels until late in her life, take note. It was this that Fidelis, Judith Strasser Pavia and I smilingly mused about when we kept Auntie Betty company last Tuesday night.
Because for a 70-something woman to brave those heels when we in our 60s have all but eschewed them is, one must admit, something else.
Next week, we visit a new cafe in town, opened by Fidelis and Judith.