The Philippine Online Chronicles

The last words I told my grandfather were “I love you.” It was a weekday in July 2004. Those words were shared over the phone, with the call made from my Makati office to their home in Quezon City. I remember giving my grandparents details about their travel insurance, as they were leaving the next day for my grandfather’s cancer treatment in the States.  I remember my grandmother quickly passing the phone over to my grandfather saying I had something to tell him. My grandfather wasn’t the mushy type. The most affection that I’ve ever got from him was a strong pat on the back. But there he was on the other end of the line and so I said, “I love you!” In response, he gave me a hearty laugh and said “Thank you!” He died in October 2004.

Growing up with the grandparents

One of my favourite things about growing up was that I got to know my grandparents.  Every Sunday, we would troop over to my grandparents’ home in Project 6. There didn’t have to be any special occasion. Sometimes it was a simple family lunch, with my aunts, uncles and cousins also present. Other times it was dinner, usually after hearing Sunday Mass. My parents weren’t strict about a lot of things, but Sunday Family Days they were very strict about.  It was a given – Sundays meant visits to Project 6.

Sunday lunches were the best. My grandfather would crack jokes over a meal of pancit and kaldereta, dishes that he cooked himself. My grandmother would be by his side, laughing at all his jokes more eagerly than all of us combined. She was completely enamoured by him, even after more than 50 years of marriage. Sometimes he would regale us with stories of his soldier days. One story he’s fond of telling is how Japanese soldiers caught him praying the rosary. They punished him by making him eat tons of tuyo (dried fish) – scales, head, tails, bones and all. The joke was on the Japanese though, my grandfather repeatedly pointed out, because he loved eating every little part of tuyo!

I look back at those Sundays with a lot of wistfulness and a little regret. Why didn’t I ask more questions? Why didn’t I ask him to tell more stories? I wish I had a video camera then and could watch him tell stories over and over. Nonetheless, the stories he used to tell come alive in our retelling of his stories to our younger cousins and our own children.

“Forget regrets or life is yours to miss.”

There are a lot of things I wish I had done with my grandfather while he was still alive, but obviously that’s all moot now.  Nonetheless, it has inspired me to make a list of things I should do with my grandmother, or things my son should do with his own grandparents.

Print out your digital pictures. “Patingin naman,” my grandmother would usually say after picture-taking moments during family events. One of us would hand over our digital cameras to her and we’d flip through the photos for her. Not all grandparents are like Lola Techie. My grandma can’t use the computer, nor can she use a cell phone. She does, however, hold on to a lot of pictures from way back. Hard copies of pictures dwindled as our family turned to digital more. Because of that, she sees less of the family pictures now, and I think this could have made her feel left behind. Ugh, what a terrible grandchild that makes me. So yes, keep your grandparents in the loop by giving them pictures “the old-fashioned way” a.k.a. printed.

Ask them to tell stories about their youth. My grandmother once told us a story about a beach trip she had with classmates as a young lass. One boy had too much coconut to eat over lunch. When the boat he was riding in capsized, most of the classmates were saved except for that young boy. He drowned because he ate too much buko. I can never forget that story as it scared the hell out of me. I may have been five years old when my grandmother shared that tale, but it stays with me till now. It could have happened in current times, but the way she told the story made it seem like a film. I could imagine the scene in sepia or black-and-white. There is a magic to the way grandparents tell stories, especially ones about their childhood days. Whether beautiful or tragic, you find yourself hooked on every word. Then the stories remain with you until it’s your turn to tell them to your own grandkids.

Another reason why stories about your grandparents’ youth is so magical is that it’s kind of hard to believe that your grandparents were kids too. Hard to believe, but cool.

Ask them to tell the story of how they fell in love. This is especially wonderful if your grandparents are still very much in love after decades and decades of togetherness. My grandfather noticed my grandmother during World War II, during a procession or a parade of sorts. He would visit her despite the strict watch of the Japanese, as nothing could stand in the way of his courtship. She remembers hiding from the Japanese under their nipa hut, only to see my grandfather riding up towards their house on a horse, paying her a visit. Frankly, we sometimes ask my grandmother if she’s not mixing up this story with a telenovela she’s fond of watching, but she says it’s true. We’ll take her word for it!

My grandparents watching the sunset at Manila Bay, September 2003

Take both your grandparents on a day out. The last time we took both my grandparents out was in September 2003. My husband, my Mom, my cousin and I took our grandparents to Manila to see a WOW Philippines exhibition, where I recall my grandfather feasted on oyster chips. Afterwards, we watched the sun set over Manila Bay. We didn’t do anything else except blow bubbles with my then eight-year-old cousin, laugh as the wind messed up our hair, and bathe in the glow of the sunset. The best part though was simply having both grandparents with us. We had dinner at Aristocrat, where my grandfather had his favourite San Miguel Pale Pilsen along with dinner. To date, that is one of my most memorable and favourite days of all time.

Ask them to teach you their favourite recipes. It’s not enough to let them dictate the ingredients and procedures. Watch them cook. If you can, take a video. My grandfather was a spectacular cook. We have his recipes for beef tapa, kaldereta, Christmas ham and a few other dishes, but I really wish I had seen him cook these dishes. I only developed an eagerness for learning how to cook way after I was married, and sadly, my grandfather had already passed on.  There’s a funny Pinoy one-upmanship that goes “Wala ka sa lolo ko...” Well, wala ang pancit ng lolo mo sa pancit ng lolo ko. At wala ang leche flan ng lola mo sa leche flan ng lola ko! That’s a shoutout to the best cooks in the world!

Cook for them, just them. No matter how fabulous your grandparents are at cooking, they will always appreciate a meal you yourself cooked for them, just for them. The only dish I was confident at making back then was Cheesy Garlic Bread. My grandfather loved it. I’d even make a loaf just for him, with extra garlic. I stopped cooking it after he died. I hate to admit it, but I know nobody appreciated that bread more than he did. Nobody ever asked me to cook for them, but my grandfather asked for that bread. I wish I had baked more of that for him. Maybe I’ll make Cheesy Garlic Bread to commemorate him on his birthday this February.

One more thing – don’t hold back on the “I love you’s” or your own ways of expressing affection.  No matter how un-demonstrative your grandparents may be, they will appreciate you showing that token of love. My grandfather was fierce and strong, very much a soldier up to his last days. It didn’t stop me from sneaking in hugs and kisses while he was still alive, or saying those three words, not knowing that would be our last conversation. There are many things I wish I had experienced with him, but I am grateful for those we’ve shared together. Not all grandchildren get to know their grandparents, and I feel very blessed to have known them well, to have experienced growing up with them.

Now let me go dig up my recipe for Cheesy Garlic Bread. Maybe my grandmother and I can share a slice each while bonding over printed pictures and stories she tells and retells, stories I never tire of hearing, stories I will always cherish.

Photo: “The longest ” by Daniel Horacio Agostini, c/o Flickr. Some Rights Reserved. Photo: “Wowo and Maymee” by Toni Tiu, c/o Flickr. All Rights Reserved.

Toni Tiu dedicates this piece to her Wowo. He would have been 90 years old this year. Visit her personal blog on home and living at Wifelysteps.com.