Thank You, Inang

She might have looked old and vulnerable especially during her final year. But for anyone who have known her when she was much younger — when her daily routine included not just tending to six rowdy boys and managing her home, but as well as sharing as much labor in the farm as the men — she was one heck of a tough woman.

Tough she might have been, but for me, she was the wingless angel who guided us, her grandchildren, through our childhood — the one who patiently taught us the values of caring, discipline, and cooperation. We learned about life more from her than from our books. After all, she was the one who instilled in us the importance of prayers. When she was alive, even as she was approaching death and dementia had already clouded her mind, she still knew her Amami (Our Father) by heart.

As I look at her lying peacefully in her coffin, I see not a lifeless body, but a beautiful face. I gaze at her beautiful face, and I think of her serene smile; and somehow I am 7 years old again, and she, twenty years younger than her present age. I am no longer standing beside her coffin, but am running fast along with my brothers and cousins, to meet her as she walks home from the market, balancing on her head a basket containing our pasarabo — chicharon, pulitipot, pop rice, gatas, galletas, etc… (Back then, galletas and pop rice were the best tasting tinapay we knew of.)

As we all reach for her basket, I sense that she's smiling. But as I look up to smile back at her, I feel being transported back to reality; and there I land right beside her white and silver coffin. I force myself to turn away from her, but not before saying what I'll never get tired of telling her: Agyamankami kenka Inang. Ay-ayatendaka unay.

I walk out of the room, as tears run down my cheeks. Still, I refuse to blurt out words of farewell, for I know I will always keep her in my heart.

Oh, what I would give for just one more hug... But maybe, she'd had all the hugs she needed from me. She left peacefully without me by her side...

Inang Pacing (Faustina Domingo Benosa) passed away at 9:00 pm on December 15, 2005. Several family members (Amang Roman; sons Manuel, Nestor and Benjamin; daughters-in-law Sherly and Luz; and grandchildren Lucky Ryan and Jeannet) were beside her. She was a month shy of her 87th birthday.