Lolo Ben

how do you mourn a loved one you barely got to love?

this was the question i asked myself when the father of my father died a few months ago. i've had a touchy relationship with my relatives from my father's side ever since my father decided to walk out on us when i was just a kid and my mom was a struggling government employee. my father's family were almost strangers to me and i would only see them on birthdays and funerals. well, at least it can be said that i was with them in celebration of life and grief over death.

i didn't know what feelings should have taken over me when i lost my grandfather. when i heard about his death, the sadness was there but it was more of a sadness over death itself than sadness over the death of a family. i was there in his wake for two nights but i didn't even go near his casket. i had no idea how he looked like after the heart attack that took his life. the Lolo Ben i remember was the seemingly oblivious old man i usually saw sitting contentedly inside the waiting shed in front of the public market. i was told that he was already ulyanin back then but he never quit his regular bicycle ride exercise .

the fondest and in retrospect, the saddest, memory i have about Lolo Ben was when my Lola and i (my mother's mother) went to their home to visit him and Lola Ipa (my father's mother). It was also on that day that i first saw my Lola express her anguish on what my father had done to us. i was perhaps only 9years old then but i was old enough to figure out that my Lola wanted to know where my father was ever since we heard that he already returned from Korea, but we were the last people to know. in my young mind, i know my father did a horrible thing. and i was mad at him.

i did not fully understand their conversation but i thought i got the gist. Lolo Ben and Lola Ipa were also suffering from the truth that their son abandoned his family and took on a clandestine existence for reasons that remain a mystery even up to now. however, Lola Ipa was still a mother who dearly loved his son and was protective of him.

but i will never forget what i saw in Lolo Ben's eyes on that day. it was then that i knew how much he was hurting for everything that has happened. he looked at me and i saw in his eyes, that though they never had the chance to take care of me, i was his dearest grandchild and he loved me. i saw how sorry he was for what his son had done and i think he even felt sorry for me, too. in that look i also saw a doting grandfather who probably thought his apo was cute as a button (i dunno what went wrong) and he seemed sincerely happy to see me; if only he knew that i would turn out to be a prodigal apo.

it was that look that endeared Lolo Ben to me despite the bitterness and resentment i have felt towards my father's family not long after that fateful visit with my Lola. i even bragged about it to my mom and told her that i thought i was really that super special to Lolo Ben.

i had no idea that it would be the last memory of Lolo Ben i would get to cherish.

the funeral was long over and it's been months after i had my emotions mixed up.

pictures during Lolo Ben's funeral. his sons and daughters gathered around when the casket was lowered down. the grandchildren stood closer and held hands. i was contented to watch that moment.

but it was just right this very moment that i realized this-- perhaps i shouldn't have worried about how i should have mourned Lolo Ben. i should have thought about the best way that i should have remembered him.

that fondest memory i have of Lolo Ben flashed into my thoughts when i was at his wake but it got lost into all the confusion in my head. luckily, i found it and i got it back.

today, i consider that memory, that look from Lolo Ben as my inheritance from him.