Impo is Dead

The Farm Life

Lola Flavania or ‘impo’ was the closest family member I had when I was a child. She took me in when I was only three years old. My mother was a business trader; she owns the largest sari-sari store in our barrio so she did not have time to take care of us, her children. I had no choice so I was forced to live with impo and let her look after me.

Impo loves me so much. I knew and I felt it. In the morning, she never woke me up; she lets me sleep as long as I want. She prepares my breakfast with dough bread dipped in carabao’s milk and dried fish. She also taught me how to say my prayers in Spanish like the Our Father and Hail Mary. Sometimes she lets me lead the orasyon during the afternoon.

Impo’s house was situated near the rice fields in barrio Gubat. We are kilometers away from the hubbub of the city and in order to get there you have to get past through the cement bridge surrounded by tall rice stalks and tubos. At the back of the house was a large creek where my ingkong goes fishing. Every morning at ten o’clock he takes home a couple of mudfish and will be cooked as pinangat at noon. Impo is a market vendor who sells farm goods such as patola, and upo. Afterwards, she will buy our dish for lunch and will cook one of my favorite dishes such as nilagang baka, sinigang sa bayabas na bangus, and pesa.

I never yearned of my nanay’s presence because it was impo who assumed the role of being a mother to me. We were contented. I have her and she has me. But it wasn’t for long until a grave sickness took over her fragile and aging body.

Farewell, Impo. Till We Meet Again

It was 1957; I was barely five years old when impo died in her sick bed. I can clearly remember that it all happened during eight ‘o clock in the morning.

I was with her when she held her last breath. We were in the biggest room of her two-storey antique house. Her rattan bed was in the farthest corner of the room beside the window. She was laid there with her helpless, frail body while I was seated at her bedside. I never took my eyes away from her. I was the favorite grandchild and I must not leave her side.

I never knew that impo was suffering from any sickness. I didn’t know that in any moment she was going to leave me soon. Since I was at my tender age, I haven’t understood the things happening around me. All I knew is that it is just one of those ordinary days where I have to help her with the household.

A few days before, impong Candeng, my grandfather’s sister arrived in impo’s house. Most of my relatives are also there and they all seem to be preparing for a special occasion. Everyone is running in and out of the house. It was a tradition for the families and relatives to offer their support to an ailing member.

I was sat beside impo, completely unaware on what was going on until impong Candeng approached us. 

“Flavania, ito ang isusuot mong damit,” she said to impo.

I looked at her with those wandering eyes, and as I trail down my gaze on the piece of cloth she was holding, I saw it. It was a white lace dress that she had worn when impo got married. It was a family tradition to wear your wedding dress on the day of your burial. All those years they kept it for that moment. I never thought it for a moment that it was going to be the same dress that she will be wearing when she dies.

“Candeng…halika rine…may sasabihin ako…”

I broke into reverie when I heard my grandmother speak with her hoarse and thin voice, almost struggling to speak out.

Impo lifts her spindly hands away from her thin body and slowly, she opened her palm. Inside was a bursikos, a small pouch made from cheesecloth. I also saw a pair of earrings and a necklace made from the gold mines of Paracale and a tambourine chain. It was a very rare and fine expensive piece of jewelry. But it never ignited my interest because I have no use of it as a child. I looked at impong Candeng and I saw the flicker in her eyes. Impo handed the jewelry into her hand and she quickly pocketed them into her apron. I knew that will be the last time I’ll ever see that jewelry.

And as I switch back my gaze to impo she continued, “Candeng, itago mo ang mga alahas ko. At kapag dumating si Patricia sa edad na dise-otso, ibigay mo ito sa kanya,” she gave impong Candeng a soft, entrusting gaze and as she put down her hands back to her side, she drew her last breath between her blistered lips and I felt her soul steadily drift away from her body.

Those were her last words. I felt the room was clouded by a deafening sound of silence. No one dared to speak out. I heard the growing whispers and muffled sobs outside the room. And yet, I was just there sitting beside impo and for the first time, I gazed at her face filled with utter tranquility and solace as she slowly slipped into a quiet slumber.

She’s Back

From the moment she died, I never left her side. In the 1950’s, the process of embalment is held inside the dead person’s home, and I was able to witness it. I saw how they pierce holes in the hollow of impo’s neck as they try to suck out her blood. They sliced her abdomen with a sharp knife and inserted a long tube with a large bottle on its end. I saw how the blood spurred out in those holes and ran through the tubes down to the container. I saw some bits of human flesh floating inside. The whole room was suddenly filled with the stench of dried blood and formalin but I never dared to cover up my nose. I knew the smell came from impo and I will never do such rude thing to her.

I was seething with anger as I watch those men try to do unimaginable things to impo’s body. They are killing her. Suck. Slice. Snip. I want it to stop and push them away from her exposed body. The slurping sound of blood and the loud clash of metallic instruments deafened me. I gave the men daggered looks and they reacted with a smile. How cruel of those people! They don’t understand how impo means to me. So I slumped on the floor, cried out loud and threw a bad fit in the middle of the room. I was hurt. Impo was just sleeping and she will wake up soon. How can she wake up if they are slicing her to pieces? My father noticing the tension inside the room took me and carried me outside. It was for the first time in weeks that I was taken away from impo’s side.

He left me crying till I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I woke up with the sight of impo inside a thin, narrow white box.

A few days after impo’s burial, I was still living at her home. I yearn for her presence just like I always do when she’s out selling vegetables in the market. But I never thought that no matter how long I wait for her, she will never come back for me anymore.

My father, recognizing my longing, went to impo’s house and offered to take me home, but I refused to go. I went upstairs crying while looking for her. I still have a difficult time on grasping the idea that she is finally gone and dead. I try hard for myself to believe that is she very much alive, that she’s just downstairs preparing one of my favorite dishes.

I ran through the hallways and went to each room hoping to see her. I was crying relentlessly. When I finally got tired from all the running, I saw a bench and decided to hide there. It was on the same spot where my impo’s death bed was situated. And as I reached it, I fell down on my knees and let my head touch the floor. I wiped my tears all over my cheeks and tried to calm myself down. But I can’t. Everything seems to be too painful. My mind reeled on impo’s absence. But suddenly, amidst the sound of my loud sobs, I heard someone calling my name, a familiar voice I’ve been yearning to hear for weeks.

“Tahan na. Huwag ka na umiyak.”

I lifted up my head and saw her. It was Impo! She gleamed magnificently as she floats on air. She is wearing a beautiful lace dress, the same one she wore on her burial only it was black. Her long, ivory hair flowed from her shoulders down to her waist. I was transfixed by her presence as she stares at me with those eyes, imploring to calm me down. Slowly, she tries to close our distance by drawing her body close to mine. As she was about to reach me in, I heard footsteps coming outside the room and I heard tiyo Dune calling my name.

“Patricia! Tawag ka ng tatay mo. Uwi na raw kayo.”

He opened the door with a flourish and as I look back at impo, she vanished into thin air.

I was completely caught off by her sudden disappearance. I tried to take in the strangeness of the sensations I felt with my brief encounter with impo. My eyes was fixed on the space where she left, looking for a tiny spark of hope that she will come back and take me. I was bewildered yet confused at the same time. I thought she was playing a trick on me just like when we used to play hide and seek around the house.

I knew that impo wanted to take me in that instant and be with her again. I was living alone at her home, uninhabited by her warm, physical presence. I knew she missed her grandchild so much. If it weren’t for my uncle Dune who appeared just before impo take hold of me, I knew I’d be gone. And I will gladly let her.