a Cup of Memory

a cup of coffee

I’ve been stirring my coffee for a minute now, I guess. Every time I get here at our office pantry and make one cup of this caffeine, I always get lost. I mean, stirring, stirring, and stirring until sometimes, office mates would tell me like, “Hey, what’s with your coffee? Are you stirring it to get it cold? You might want to put ice?” I am really lost to somewhere else, to those times wherein someone would order me to make coffee served with anything – cookies, biscuits, bread and even breakfast meal or other meal of the day depends on what time he arrives for a visit. Yes, he wasn’t part of the household but he’s one of the foundations. He’s my lolo. It was always a scene at our house’s window where he shows up and putting there down bottles of pickled chili or live chicken. When he sits down, it follows that he orders coffee and food. Accustomed to it, I know how his coffee tastes – black, little sugar. It was a frequent (almost every week or once in half-month) visit.

It was. That was why may be after three weeks of not coming made me wonder. Every time I arrive at home from a weekly boarding for school, I ask about him but they said he won’t come. They told me he was under medication with my aunt accompanying him. I didn’t know what he had until one Wednesday, my mother texted me that they were in the hospital. He was already in a comatose. The following day while I was in the class, actively participating in the games, I received a neighbor’s message and it reads, “Wala na si lolo mo (Your grandfather is gone.)”. Unnoticed, I cried at the corner of the room. I went home Friday and I saw him there lying on his wooden bed. It was a painful truth how he had gone too soon because at those few weeks, my mother’s side of family just started untangling things of whatever disputes they have . If there was something good that happened with his absence, the family’s relationship had gone better. I know he is happy with that wherever he is.

His life might not be a perfect blend like his coffee, sometimes the sugar was more or less but I know that right from that moment he bid goodbye, God had already perfected it in heaven. I love you Lo!

***in memory of my Lolo Constancio, may he be happy now wherever he is

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2 thoughts on “a Cup of Memory

    • Yes. And whether kakampi mo sila or tagadisiplina, they deserve to have all the respect and love. Seize all the wisdom from our grandparents, too. They have all the stories you may want to know. Thank you that I made you feel so. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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