THE RETURN JOURNEY

If someone hikes up a mountain and, upon reaching the summit, begins descending, they’re heading back -back to the base, back to where it all began. It’s a journey home.

Indulge my caffeine-fueled brain for a moment...�

My dear Inang lived for 27,814 days. Her halfway point, day 13,907, was December 31, 1964. I had just turned five years and 18 days old.

On that festive New Year’s Eve, nearly 60 years ago today, my beloved Inang was, in a way, starting her descent -her journey back home to the Holy Father. If her life leading up to December 31, 1964, was about climbing and living, everything after that was her graceful return. Her return to Him. Her goodbye journey.

Of course, there was no way for me to know this. I was just a little boy. I couldn’t read, couldn’t write, and certainly couldn’t sit (or squat around our 'dulang,' that low-level dining table) and sip coffee to reflect on life as I do now. No one told me she was leaving -returning -to where all good souls go.

Had I known, even as a child, I would have loved her more openly. I would have obeyed her without hesitation. I wouldn’t have laughed at her when she put on lipstick or sprayed her hair, wanting to look more beautiful for the dance with dear Tatang at the barrio Glorieta. I would have stayed by her side more often, listening to her stories of the Japanese occupation. I would have held her hand more tightly during her battles with asthma, whispered more words of love, and cherished every moment.

Today would have been her 98th birthday. Not a day passes without me thinking of her. I try to keep her memories alive, savoring the moments we shared. I pray my own old age never robs me of those precious memories -the ones that keep her gentle spirit close to me.

Oh, by the way, unless I live to be 130 years old, I too am on my way back. Every passing day gets me closer to my own journey's end. And I realize there are others dear to me on the same path.

I miss you, dearest Inang. I love you more than words can ever express.

This cup of coffee, I raise to you. Cheers to you, always.