Essay #3
Angela Castillo Creative Non Fiction Eng 3017 Dr. Chandler Essay #
Cooking with Lola
A lock of hair, in an album, inside box, underneath a pile of clutter is where she left many tears.
I was about sixteen years old when I discovered the album. It was late in the evening and I remember the attic light flickered on and off for a few seconds. I was rummaging through boxes as my eyes struggled to focus with the dim lighting. In one box, underneath stacks of papers, I uncovered an old album. It was dusty and discolored. The edges of the album were slightly bent upwards as if it was shoved into the bottom of the box. I knew I shouldn’t be digging through my grandmother’s belongings, but I felt she needed to clear out some of the clutter in the room. She was a pack rat. My beloved grandmother, who I call “Lola”, had a habit of holding on to everything. My mother once told me that my Lola began holding on to things after her son died.
A Lock of Hair
I slowly opened the album in fear of what old photos I may find. After seeing locks of hair, next to a picture of a young man in a casket, I felt my goose bumps on my arms raise. For the first time, I saw pictures of my mother as a teenager and my grandmother as a young woman. It felt like I was in an episode of the twilight zone. Who was this young man in a casket? Why was he wearing all white? Why did he have a necklace made of White Jasmine (Sampagita) Flowers? Why did my grandmother have his hair placed inside the album? I gathered my senses and came to the realization that I was staring at the pictures from my uncle’s funeral. He died at the age of fourteen in June 26, 1976. My grandmother cut his hair and kept it for all these years. Maybe it was her way of coping with her loss. Maybe it was her way of still holding on to him.
Hidden in the Album
I put the album away and ran down the attic stairs into the kitchen where I saw my grandmother.
“Lola, how did he die?” I asked her.
“Angel, he forgot to breathe,” she replied.
She always gave me that answer. But how could someone just forget how to breathe? It was not until I turned eighteen that my grandmother told me the real answer.
It was after prom weekend, when my grandmother and I were cooking in the kitchen. I started to ask her questions about her past. I cut up the vegetables in order to prepare the mix for the empanada.
“Lola, can you tell me more about Tito Mon?” I asked her.
Her eyes watered with tears but never dripped. She put down the rolling pin and sat next to me. She told me that her only son, out of four children, was only fourteen years old and attended school far from my Lola’s original hometown. Lola told me that her family lived in San Pablo, Philippines. From San Pablo to my Lola’s house, a person would have to travel by airplane for over an hour.
“Angel, he was beautiful. He was charming and popular” she said.
“Tell me more, Lola. What was he wearing the last time you saw him?” I asked.
“Bright purple pants”, she said with a smile.
She explained to me that he was wearing these bright purple pants the morning he left for school. In his school the kids were supposed to be dressed in uniform. The day he died, he was dressed casually and inappropriately for school.
“His teacher asked him why he didn’t wear a uniform” explained Lola.
In a Box
I looked at her with a confused smile and allowed her to continue with her story. She believed that my uncle knew he was going to die. He always wore his uniform. It was just part of his routine. But the very day he wore his casual clothes, he had a brain aneurysm .Before he passed away he told his teacher that the next time she sees him; he’ll be dressed in all white. The teacher looked at him and just nodded her head. She didn’t realize that the next time she’d seem him would be at his funeral, where he was dressed in all white.
I asked Lola to tell me where she was when she found out about his death. With her rolling pin in her hand, she began to knead dough and as she told me her experience.
“ My youngest daughter, ran up to me and told me something happened to Mon. She told me that he was in the hospital and the teachers at school rushed him there immediately,” she explained.
A Pile of Clutter
Lola said that that her trip to the hospital was torturous. She sat there in traffic, waiting in the hot bus for an hour. Sweat mixed with tears, dripped down her face as she clenched on to her dress. She wiped her sweaty palms all over her dress. She did not know what happened to her son. She didn’t know why he was there. He was healthy, active and outspoken. He only complained of occasional headaches and toothaches. She prayed that maybe he fell and hurt himself slightly.
Upon arriving at the hospital, she saw Mon’s friends standing in front of the hospital morgue. She knew in her heart that something was wrong. The hospital was bright, well lit and clean. It was an unwelcoming and uncomfortable environment. She felt a sharp pain in her chest and her heart started to beat faster than it already was. She couldn’t breathe as she recognized her son’s friends. The young boys were standing in front of the morgue with tears in their eyes. She saw her son, with a handkerchief tied around his head and his eyes were closed. The handkerchief wrapped underneath his chin and tied on the top of his crown. This was in order to keep his jaws from dropping and his mouth from opening. At the sight of her dead son, my grandmother collapsed.
It was only at the wake that my grandmother realized her son knew he was going to die. Friends , teachers and classmates said that my uncle was saying his goodbyes. He passed away on a Wednesday. Weeks before his death, his friends were planning a party for Friday, June 28, 1976. He kept telling his friends that he would not be able to attend the party. He went from room to room, telling his friends that he would return to San Pablo. They wondered why he said he would return to San Pablo, when he only goes there for the holidays. They shrugged it off and thought he just wanted to visit family. Little did they know he would return to San Pablo on June 28, 1976 for his own funeral.
One classmate told Lola that a month before Tito Mon passed away; he tied a handkerchief around his head in order to show his classmate how he would look if ever he died. His friend told him not to tie a handkerchief in that manner for it was inappropriate and doctors do that when a person dies. My Lola was in shock and explained to the boy, that her son did have a handkerchief tied around his head in the same manner, when she saw him at the morgue.
Lola was also surprised to find out about a conversation that Tito Mon had with his grandmother. About a month before he passed away, he was sitting near a beach with his grandmother. He turned to her and asked her a question about his fate.
“Grandma, do you think I’ll die young?” he asked.
“Mon, you are healthy and will live to be old. Look at me, I’m old and blind and still alive. I have every reason to want to die. I am losing my senses and feeling weak. Why would you even question such a thing?” she replied.
“Grandma, I’m just saying. When I die, I would like to wear a necklace made out of Jasmine flowers.” He told her.
She nodded her head and changed the topic. That was the last time his grandma spoke to him. She never told Lola about the incident until his funeral. It was as if Tito Mon knew in his heart that he would pass away soon.
For three days, hundreds of people that my Lola didn’t know arrived at wake to say goodbye to Tito Mon. They were from all different backgrounds. Some were rich and dressed in fine clothing. Some were poor and had holes in their shoes. Poor street children came up to my grandmother and said Tito Mon used to share his food with them because they were hungry. Vendors from the local fish market even came up to my uncle’s casket and hugged his body as they wept and cried out loud. My grandmother did not know these people but she realized that she was blessed to have a son who touched so many lives.
She Left Many Tears
I watched my grandmother as she finished kneading her dough and continued with her story. Her eyes were watery as she recalled painful memories of losing her only son. She told me that he knew he was going to die. She said she believed that God was talking to him. Maybe God was allowing him to say his farewells to friends and family in order to prepare them for his death.
Coming from a Christian background, Lola believes that God blessed her with a beautiful son. She also believes that she will see him again in heaven. She knows in her heart that he is waiting there for her. I too believe that God somehow told my uncle he was going to pass away. I think God was preparing Tito Mon’s loved ones, by giving those signs through Tito Mon’s strange behavior.
I turned to my Lola, who had tears in her eyes. I helped her put the ground beef and vegetables into the dough. We then wrapped up the empanadas and fried it into the boiling oil.
Posted in: on Sunday, November 16, 2008 at at 6:52 PM
