(or, Disjointed Thoughts On A Recent Funeral)
My grandfather died last week and was buried just this weekend. I haven't been to San Miguel regularly since my childhood summers. In fact, the last time I remember going there was back in December 2000, when my lolo first had a major seizure.
There's never been an organized reunion in my family. Everyone goes their own way. I'm not even sure that I'll recognize some of my cousins if I happened to pass them in the street. Such a dysfunctional family... Ironically, Lolo Narding's passing away made us all return to San Miguel, and made us plan for a semi-regular get-together. There are times when I wish I had been more empathic.
I remember my childhood in that small rural town, capering all over the countryside with my cousin, Maricel (the only cousin close to my age on my father's side), bike rides with my grandfather (he fashioned a seat that can be set on the bar in front of the bike's actual seat so one can ride along comfortably), puto and kutsinta and chicharon and pastillas from carabao's milk (or was it goat's?) made by my great grandmother, ghost stories of the many old houses in town... those summers are long gone, but their memories will be always remain in my heart.
May the random cosmic forces bless his life-force.