My first memory of my grandmother was when I was three (or four) and she came home from Canada, where she lived and worked most of my childhood. We lived in a smaller house which we rented up until my parents were able to scrape for themselves the money to build our own house, the one I live in right now. She was a tiny but jovial woman. I do not remember much of that day but I know for sure that somebody put on some Waltz music. I didn't know (still don't, actually) how to waltz, of course, but I danced with her anyway, moving so awkwardly right there, in the makeshift ballroom of our very small apartment (and by makeshift, I mean the center table of our very small living room moved to a corner). She took my hands and started leading, with me thinking that I used to see this in the then-VHS format of my favorite Disney movies. I don't know why I always remember that but I like the memory. It is one of my favorites. I like it even more than her 75th birthday party where I sat by her the whole time because she would help me out so that I can get all the prizes. That was also a good day for the both of us, by the way.
When she decided to stay in the Philippines for good, I liked visiting her at home and bringing her small gifts (of the food kind, usually, because she was a very good cook when she was still able to do so). During her last birthdays, especially when I already had money of my own, I brought her cake and token birthday food. She usually feels a little low on her special day, a trait we both share although I'm not entirely sure if that's normal for other birthday celebrants. When she finally came out of her room to blow her cake, my aunt told her not to be sad anymore because her grandchildren were there and that I already brought her food for her celebration. She smiled and said, "Oo, swerte rin ako kahit papaano..." I loved that. I liked seeing her at least a little bit happy. She was such a sweet old lady, not at all like my other grandmothers who are talkative and feisty. This grandmother of mine, my Papa's Mama, was funny, too, when she was in the mood. And like my Papa, she believed that I will achieve big things one day. I will always remember that, and perhaps because I have their blessing, I really will. One day.
Eighty-four years. What more can I ask for? Safe travels, Grandma. You will be missed.
