I had quite a shock when I learned, two days ago, that a lady that my mother and I knew more than ten years ago back in Gaithersburg, MD had passed away. What a strange way for me to have discovered this on the web when I was searching for an online photo gallery that belonged to her younger brother, J.
In 1994, I flew to MD to join my mother who was staying with this family who then recently emigrated from the Phils to fulfill a mission in the United States. Their two-story home was a temporary place of shelter for me more than month.
Sis. E was a petite, soft-spoken wife of a pastor and a mother of two daughters and two sons. She had three other siblings living, each living independently, in the same state. I came to know much about her family and relatives to observe that they were a closely-knit clan that dwelt on traditional (Filipino) family values.
What sacrifices they must have made to follow the call to the mission field, leaving prominent jobs in their homeland. From what I recall, both Sis. E and her husband were practitioners of chemical engineering. Highly educated and accomplished, there was no doubt. Yet in MD, they shed the trappings of their careers and took on the roles of God's servants. In so doing, they welcomed many newcomers such as myself to their homes, even chauffeuring some who didn't have the means to pay a cab to get around. Blessed with such a generous heart, they offered counsel and company to Filipinos who were living far from across the globe.
She might have had her nails or hair done professionally for some special occasion, but I have no memory of it whatsoever during my stay there, as her busy hands worked night and day to attend to chores, whether home or church matters. The line drawn between the two had always seemed hazy a lot of times.
Sis. E's weekly routine was as typical as any pastor's wife could get. Carpooling, visiting with members of their small congregation, typing the church newsletter, playing the piano during the service, and yes, even baking and decorating birthday cakes and giving piano lessons to her nieces.
In spite of the "proverbial woman's" qualities, her gentle demeanor, in fact, concealed a strong individual that her spouse, children, and intimates could lean on. Her quiet tones could move a boulder with the strength of her convictions. I've had my own encounter with this force of a woman who, to me at that time, acted like a self-appointed maternal figure during a very confused time in my life. Her motherly approach was tactful yet firm, though I responded with a resigned stubborness. It took years before the stun of her rebukes finally eased. I realize that as I matured later on, her wisdom became priceless gems.
Almost thirteen years after leaving MD, my recollections of Sis. E and her family linger with memories of her spouse bringing her flowers (which came with a peck on the cheek) every week after buying groceries, of one evening when her gushing 16-year-old (now married) was getting ready for her prom and sharing this insurmountable excitement with her, of her 5-year-old (now in college) riding piggy-back on his way to being tucked in bed by her, and of her kneading petals and stems made from fondant along with her daughters.
The uncanny moments, meanwhile, include seeing her one morning when she emerged from their home office with yesterday's oil-soaked makeup caked on her face because she labored all night on the church newsletter, and that after-midnight episode when, in a fit of self-abandonment, she decided to play a mini concierto on her beloved grand piano while the rest of the household was asleep. In my head I would never forget the lilting accent of her native dialect that she used when speaking with her family. There was hardly a note of harshness detected in that language that I so often heard but never fully understood.
Though her husband, the pastor, usually discussed the Sunday sermon, whenever people listen to insights shared by Sis. E, it was as if she had her own invisible pulpit what with the attention she commanded from her audience. Her family never had to ask her to repeat for they were all ears when it was her turn to speak.
The last time I met Sis. E and her husband was, I think, two years ago. I stumbled upon her brother, J, at a church service, that I happened to be attending in Cebu. To my surprise, I found out that they were vacationing in the country at that time. I dialled the number given to me, and it was Sis. E who I instantly asked for. I went to see them that night. I showed them pictures of my family. And as much as I was ecstatic to see them again, I strained to find the moment to make amends for whatever misunderstanding we had had way back during my "confused time" in MD. Courage failed me, however, because I felt that the reunion was better off without going over moments we both regretted back then. Sis. E showed me the web site of her brother J's photo gallery while chatting with her kids online. She had always been the computer aficionado all these years, so it seemed.
Through J's site, I was able to catch up on more than ten years of not seeing their family as I saw images of their grown-up kids and the other relatives I met back then. I remember writing down their contact email once, but to this day, I had not been able to keep in touch with them.
Two days ago, I thought about looking up J's site, but I couldn't find it anymore. Just like stumbling upon J at that church service in Cebu, instead, I came upon the news of her passing away. She died of cancer more than a year ago. My mother was shocked when I called her up about it.
As of this writing, I am still hunting for an email address so I cound send my condolences to the family.
This post was not written without tears. This is my means of paying respects to that dear woman, a gesture to honor the love, friendship, and kindness that this wonderful family had shown my mother and me.
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