Another Birthday Without Nanay

It’s 12:50 AM, May 7, +8 GMT. My another birthday without Nanay (a local term of endearment for a mother) Pepang. My grand mother who passed away years ago. I forgot the exact year she passed away but until now, I could still feel her with me in moments like this.

With a Philip Morris on the ashtray and a one litter bottle of beer on the left side of my chair, Nanay would probably burst to tears the moment she sees me. I picked up smoking and drinking at the time of her death to fill the emptiness. Every day, of her wake, I go home drunk and every time I wake up, I wished her passing was just another bad dream. It just took me a month to loose the habit but I still wake up wanting to believe Nanay is there to cook me breakfast.

Born in 1920 to a wealthy merchant whose family was also involved in local politics, Nanay was one of the lucky women who was able to afford to study college in the University of San Carlos in Cebu City. She took up Bachelor of Arts in Home Economics. At the age of 40, she married my lolo (grandfather) who was still 22 at that time. My mother was the only fruit of their love.

Nanay spent her life teaching at Saint Joseph College as a Home Economics instructor in it’’s high school department. She also ran a small eatery which lasted for a few years. I remember going to class with her when I was four and I already know what a "terror" of a teacher she is. She’s strict and I only knew later on why she acted the way she does. She has this rule on how to wash dishes; glasses first and then silvers and the the plates and then the baking pans.

She’s the best culinary expert I know. She could turn left overs into the best tasting new dish. Even a dried fish could taste like Peking duck ( I’m exaggerating). Armed with a Cook Book by Betty Crocker, she’s can turn flour into the best tasting cakes! I love her Merinda Orange Chiffon Cake. She made the recipe herself.

Young as I was, I already knew how to reason out which often gets me in trouble with my parents. When my parents seem to lose the verbal confrontations, they hit me with anything they can see near them. A wooden hanger, a plastic hanger, an aluminum hanger, a belt,  a broom and, when nothing is on site, their own fists. Nanay has always been my refuge. I’d immediately run off to her house and I know I was safe already. My mom says Nanay spoiled me that’s why I grew this big but I said I would have been dead without nanay. They were really cruel and sometimes forget that they are beating a kid. There was is no such thing as social services here.  My parents know I love nanay more than them. Who wouldn’t?

My sister informed me of Nanany’s death while I was in an internet cafe. I almost hit her when she told me the news. How could she make such a joke? I arrived in a house packed with neighbors, old ladies who prays for the dead. I saw Nanay, lying in her bed, as if she was just sleeping and I tried to wake her up. Denial. It took me 5 minutes to realize she was really gone. The room started to spin when reality hit me with even though my friends were there, I cried out loud until my tears stopped falling and my head start hurting. Loud sobs could be heard on the streets. I didn’t cared what they’re gonna say. I lose a friend, a protector, a woman who I knew loved me even more than I could ever repay her.

Even now I could still feel the pain like it was just yesterday. Even now, I wish that it’s just a long nightmare and when I wake up tomorrow, I could still see Nanay, hug her, kiss her, and have a long talk with her.

I miss you, Nay.