by Marj Miravite
It’s been 2 months now but I still can’t forget how the news crushed us inside. Mitchell and I just dropped off a friend just before midnight of November 9. We were on our way home when my phone rang. It was my mom. (Judith) I felt a bit uneasy when I answered it, knowing they were already sleeping when we left home. Mom said dad (Mario) had his usual attack of hypertension and that they were on their way to Capitol Medical Center to have dad’s condition checked. (Dad always did this because his hypertension always alarmed him). They told us to meet them in the hospital. On our way, my phone beeped, informing me I had received a new message. The message read, “Patay na si lolo. (Joe)” My hands were trembling as I tried to digest what I had just read. I tried to convince myself it was another false alarm since a few days before, I received the same message. It was retracted though, since Lolo was revived. Mom called again. She told us to go straight to Frisco instead. Mitchell and I went directly to Ninang Malou’s room when we arrived in Frisco. There was tension. I could sense it. Ninang Malou told us that Lolo had passed away and this time it was for real. (It was delivered in a joking manner since this was not the first time she told it). We forced to manage smiles and laughs, although I was certain that we were trying to conceal what we really felt. I was still hoping that it was just a dream – a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. Ninang Malou called up Tita Mayang in US to check the details of what happened. I listened to what Tita Mayang had to say and at this point, the harsh reality had hit me – Lolo was indeed dead.
I won’t forget how Lolo used to ask me to pluck his gray hair. I was in grade school then. He would pay me 25 centavos a piece. I spent almost an hour or two pulling off his gray hair using his tweezers. I won’t forget the scent of his gel. Lolo would fall asleep while I was busy (and tired) pulling off his gray hair. It was kind of a tedious work for me but I thought, “This was still worth some money.” When Lolo awoke, he would ask me how many I had pulled off. I could have earned quite a sum if I said I got a thousand, but I always told him how many I really pulled off. He paid me every time as promised.
We used to have lice and nits when we were kids and we would scratch our head vigorously because it was really itchy. I can’t forget how Lolo always wanted to remove them out of my head. Again, he offered to pay me. He assured me 50 centavos for every louse he got but as a bonus, he would give me 1 peso if he caught the mother kuto. By mother kuto, he meant the biggest and plumpest louse he could find. Back then, how I wished I had a hundred mother lice so I could get 100 pesos!
Tropical Hut in Panay Avenue was a very memorable place for Lolo. Aside from it being his meeting place for clients, I won’t forget how he took all of us there (his children and grandchildren) to eat breakfast. He would wake us up early in the morning just so we could meet him there. I guess it was his way of uniting us because of our different schedules. He wanted to see how everyone was. Even if he wasn’t saying much while eating, (of course, it is a bad manner to talk when your mouth is full) I know seeing us all together made him and Lola happy.
Since we lived away from them, we made it a point to visit Lolo and Lola whenever we had the time. Almost all the time, we would find Lolo playing his favorite pieces on his music player whenever we arrived. I can’t forget his deep passion for music. He had a myriad collection of all-time favorites, from Tom Jones to Engelbert Humperdink. (am I spelling it correctly?) He also had Latin and Spanish pieces. Back then, he played those well-loved songs through CDs but when he learned how to use the internet, he would search his favorite songs and download them so he could compile them in a disc. Imagine one from his age surfing the net for songs just like teenagers did. He was one heck of a man. He was really a jolly fellow.
We spent the Holiday season as a whole family. We would go to Frisco on Christmas Eve and waited for the 25th. We had picture-taking every year. Each year, we had different motifs but most of the time, we dressed in formal attire, ladies wearing beautiful gowns and the gentlemen clad in barong or coat and tie. We did the picture-taking by batches. First, we took shots of each family, then the female grandchildren, then the male grandchildren, then Lola and Lola with their grandchildren, then Lolo and Lola with their children, then the whole pack. I can’t forget how Lolo would always have the grand entrance. He would stay in his room while the first batch of pictures where being taken. He would just leave his room when it was his turn to be photographed. After that, we would eat sumptuously at whatever was served at the table. It was a long process but it was fun and each year proved to be memorable.
New Year’s Eve was another matter. They would buy lots of fireworks from Bulacan to celebrate the event. A large speaker would be set up outside the house and I won’t forget how Lolo would play his favorite marches in full volume to welcome the year. An hour or minutes before the turn of the year, he would go outside and watch the glistening of lights in the air and hear the deafening sounds of plaplas and Judas’ belts. The fireworks of their Chinese neighbor was always anticipated since it was like the highlight because of the colorful glow and beautiful patterns their fireworks displayed. Some of my younger cousins, for varied reasons, were afraid of the fireworks. Lolo would then hug them as they watched the fireworks go “boom” and fade in the darkness.
We always made it a point to give Lolo surprises during his birthday. I can’t forget how Ninang Malou asked me to make something for Lolo, may it be a poem, an essay, an acronym, or the like to express our love for him. I did as I was told every year. Lolo was always very pleased with what we had come up with. Sometimes, I found it difficult to find the exact words to express myself because I was doubtful whether I have already written a certain idea in my previous writings. Even so, I guess I came up with relatively good compositions. I had taxing thinking each year and sometimes I had very hard times trying to get ideas out of my head just to produce something that would make a great impact to Lolo, but I never thought how hard it would be to make this composition for his birthday this year. Of all the compositions I have made, this one proved to be the hardest because I had to recall all of the things that once were. It’s really hard, knowing that this composition will not be recognized by Lolo personally because he is already up there, patiently watching over all those he had left behind. However, I still think this would reach him and I know just like the other writings I have made for him in the past, this piece will still make him happy. Why? Because, everything I have written here came from my heart, full of love and wishful thinking that he could still celebrate his 74th birthday with us.
I miss him. We all do. I want to be with him – to hug him, to kiss him, and tell him things which are long overdue. He’s gone, so we say, but is he really? Has he really left us? Is he really far away? I think not. He isn’t gone. He hasn’t left. He’s not far away. In fact, he’s much closer to us than he was before. HE IS IN OUR HEARTS. Each loving memory we have of him makes him with us and the more fond memories we have of Lolo Joe, the closer we are to him. I can still smell the scent of his gel. I can sense his hands rummaging in my head to find the mother kuto. I can see his face glow as he watches us eat together at Tropical Hut. I can still hear his favorite music playing. I can still see him making his grand entrance in our photograph-taking during Christmas. I can still see him watching the fireworks display while hugging my younger cousins to drive their frights away. I can see him beaming as I write this composition in time for his birthday. He’s in my heart, and forever he will be. I may cry, as I do now while doing this, just because I miss being with Lolo Joe in the flesh. But then again, I wipe my tears because he is in my heart and he’s with me wherever I may be because I remember him every time. He is happy now, free from pain and suffering, looking down on all of us with a very happy heart together with all the others who have gone up with God. I don’t forget Lolo Joe.. And even if I know I CAN forget him, I strongly say I WON’T.
“Who is Jose Miravite?” This was the first line of the article placed on his working table in Frisco. Each of us has his or her own story about Jose F. Miravite, the man with the great heart, endowed with a magnanimous mind, the man of passion, and a fighter till the end. The patriarch of Gobencion-Miravite. The one we will always be proud of. I have shared with you my memories of him. It’s now your turn to share yours.
Happy birthday, Lolo Joe. You will always be remembered. I miss you. I Love you. Until we meet again.
Marjorie Ann Miravite
January 25, 2007