Tag: remember

Sundays at Tatay’s House

Marinelle CabilloLeave a comment

“This is story 4 of 9 of my Tatay’s Series. This is my way of honoring Tatay’s life and legacy. It wouldn’t be right if I DIDN’T give him his own series and avoided writing about his passing all together. But I’m also aware that this is something I need to do for myself – to put my grief, anger, and emotions all out on the table, instead of distracting myself with work and other things to avoid the reality that he’s gone.” -Marinelle, LoveYourzStory

Ate and I teaching Tatay how to do a Boomerang

If my dad doesn’t see signs of my sisters and I motioning to get up by 5 PM on a Sunday evening, he starts up again. “LETS GO! GET READY NOW!” he says throughout the house. Whether someone is sleeping on the couch, going pee in the bathroom, or literally already about to head downstairs to get ready, they get the same reminder. It’s Sunday, so it’s time to go to dinner at Tatay’s house. We partially ignore my dad’s irritated orders because we know we’re still going to be the first ones to arrive anyways. Depending on my mom’s mood, she’s either making food to bring to Tatay’s, or we buy take out. It’s the last scramble to get your belongings, phone charger, water bottle, computer, any work that you’re “going to work on” while at Tatay’s, before we hear my dad again. “LETS GOOOO!!!” Depending on his mood there might be a honk or two while he’s in the car.

We make our way to Tatay’s house and make the same walk that we always do from the apartment parking lot to his front door. We doorbell, but end up opening the door anyways. We greet Tita and bless her, quickly trying to claim a spot on the couch. The smell of food is already in the air. One thing about Tatay’s house is that there’s never a time where you leave and don’t smell like food. Little by little everyone starts showing up with food in hand, going straight to the kitchen. Tatay makes his grand appearance down the stairs, his cane not even touching the ground. We all line up to bless Tatay and greet him. We all wait until everyone has arrived before we pray and start to eat.

At Tatay’s service, something that all my cousins brought up during their speech was the language barrier we all faced when trying to communicate with Tatay. Every Sunday that we were there for dinner, my sisters and I would struggle to try to attempt to say something in Tagalog. Sometimes it was successful and we could carry out a simple conversation, but other times he would look at us like “….?” We would burst out laughing in embarrassment that our Tagalog was not understandable. We could understand what he would say to us in Tagalog, but we would need some time to process how to say what we wanted to say from English to Tagalog. But when our Tagalog wasn’t successful, we would tell our dad to translate what we wanted to say. We would use my dad as the human translator to tell Tatay information or ask him something.

Regardless of the language barrier, we all still found ways to communicate with Tatay. It’s crazy because even though we couldn’t communicate smoothly, the bond was still there. Maybe it’s because he lived with my family and I until I was about 7 years old, or the fact that there was just a mutual love between grandfather and grandchildren. Whatever it was, I still felt very close to my Tatay. When we were little he would take bus all around the city and come home with random things for my sisters and I. We showed our love through food, acts of service, and trying to show him things through the TV, our phones, or pictures.

Tatay’s house doesn’t have cable, so we were always trying to look for shows about animals. Animal planet was Tatay’s channel. He has always been so entertained and intrigued by animals. Ever since we were little, it was Tatay’s staple in his personality. Anything that had to do with animals, he loved. For a period of time, we would enter Tatay’s house on Sunday and immediately put it On Demand – a show about animals that he couldn’t get to on his own. He would always ask how we got on that channel, probably so he could try to watch it himself when we left. But the remote control for a 90+ year old is like the smart phone for Boomers. We just let him know that we would put on the channel for him when we came. We would watch animal documentaries while eating food, everyone huddled around the TV. Tatay would be totally fascinated. I don’t know when the switch happened, but over time we moved on to America’s Funniest Home Videos, and it was a plus that there was an animal segment.

When everyone is done with eating dinner, we just chill and hangout. This is usually the time when Tita will take out and offer the ice cream. Not just any ice cream, Mitchell’s Ube and Mango. Whoever takes the offer of getting ice cream always ends up being the server for everyone else. On the sidelines you will find cousins who are typing hard away on their laptop, people doing homework, great grandkids screaming from the top of their lungs running throughout the house, for some reason wrestling always ends up happening in the middle of the livingroom floor, some chisme in the kitchen with the adults, and cousins chopping it up in the livingroom. It’s a small apartment, but we made it a home. All of us crammed in there every other week to just hangout and be together as a family. Tatay would be in his designated chair either watching TV, or just observing the beautiful Sunday chaos going on around him.

And then there’s the pictures. I feel like we bonded with Tatay through taking pictures together and showing him filters. I always wondered what he was thought of them. Imagine being in your mid 90’s, and a little screen is showing that there’s a cat on your head. At times he would laugh and make a surprised entertained noise, and other times his reaction was like what the hell is that?! Seeing his reaction to filters and seeing his face when he saw himself on camera was priceless. I have so many photos of Tatay with a filter on, and they all put a smile on my face because I know he was truly shook with every single one.

One Sunday Tatay took an interest in my phone. I was on it and he asked if it was mine. The curiosity in his eyes and in how he was asking led me to believe that he was interested in playing around with it. I was doing homework at the time, so I put in my password and handed it over to him. I wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing because I was focused on what I was working on. In less than 30 seconds Tatay quickly hands it back to me and says something along the lines of “Here, I’m done now, take it,” in Tagalog. He was a bit distraught and to be honest, a little frantic. I looked at my phone to see that a couple of my apps were open and moved around, my Amazon cart was was open in the process of adding something random to my cart, and so many things were rearranged and done in such a small amount of time that I couldn’t help but laugh.

That’s what I mean when I say that even though there was a language barrier, it didn’t get in the way of Tatay bonding and interacting with us. Especially the relationships he had with his great grandchildren. All the kids knew his house as “Tatay’s House.” To them, Tatay’s house is where you go to play with your cousins, scream and run all night, and get scolded for going on the stairs. Tatay’s house was a place that they looked forward to going to because they knew that all the family would be there. They knew that there would be pizza, puto, and cousins to play with. Tatay was very loving an affectionate to his great granddaughters. They would come up to give him kisses and hugs, sit on his lap, and eagerly greet him when they came in. He would use his cane to play with them, and even though he probably didn’t know who’s kid belonged to who, he was thoroughly amused by their rambunctious ways. I’d always hoped that Tatay would be around long enough to meet my children.

There would be many times where I found myself observing Tatay as he observed the room himself. When the kids were yelling and having a great time, he would smile to himself, not bothered by the high pitched screams of enjoyment. Tatay was always lingering around. He wouldn’t be in the main conversations, but more so chillin on the sidelines hanging out. When we had our first Sunday dinner after over a year of being apart, I saw the spark in Tatay’s eyes again. Seeing everyone together, being in the thick of the chaos to see great grandchildren reuniting after so long, the apartment that was so quiet throughout the entire pandemic finally got brought back to life. I’m glad we gave Tatay a few more Sunday dinners despite the pandemic.

Now, Sundays look a little different. We are continuing to go to “Tatay’s house,” – because it will always be “Tatay’s house” to me – every other Sunday to have family dinner. This time around, we visit the cemetery before heading over. My dad’s “LETS GOOO, GET READY NOW!” announcements are now a little earlier so we have time to swing by the cemetery before it closes. We still make it a point to see Tatay every Sunday. It’s only right that we drop by and say hello, even if it’s only for a quick 2 minutes like what we did throughout the pandemic. If I think about it for too long, I get sad knowing that Tatay’s house will never be the same. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that still thinks he’s going to walk down those 2 flights of stairs, cane in hand, making his grand appearance into the livingroom. As time goes on, I know things will continue to change, people will move away, and things won’t always be the same. But for the time being, while we are still resuming family gatherings, I’d like to think that Tatay’s watching over us. I hope he’s glad that we’re continuing to come together as a family at “Tatay’s house” for Sunday dinner while we all still can.

Family Traditions

Marinelle CabilloLeave a comment

What’s one family tradition you’d like to carry on in the future

When I was younger, my family and I had plenty of traditions, and I’ve always wanted to uphold all of them for my future family and kids. From meeting for Sunday lunch at Mama’s house after 1 o’clock mass on my mom’s side, to opening presents right at midnight on my dad’s side, these are all little traditions that I remember as a kid. As us cousins and kids got older though, the traditions started to change as well. Meeting weekly became hard given people’s changing schedules, availability, etc. Waiting until midnight to open presents got harder to do since the adults were getting older and struggling to stay awake, as well as the kids being so young that staying up until midnight was more of a hassle than a treasured tradition. Like everything in life, things change.

Especially with big families, it can be difficult to get everyone on the same page. Everyone’s schedule is all fucked up, other priorities, some just don’t end up coming, people move or live far away, and with time, everyone just kind of branches out and does their own thing as their own little families expand. Major holidays and gatherings like Thanksgiving, Christmas, Tatay Jacinto’s birthday, Mama and Tatay Celso’s death anniversaries, are all days out of the year that are basically mandatory for my family. Those are the holidays that I take seriously and know that I can’t miss. As I get older, in the back of my mind I’m thinking of how I’m going to celebrate holidays with my kids. I quickly realize that my family events and holidays will be something that I have to thoroughly plan out as well, because I’ll have a whole other side and family that also celebrate those holidays.

I think back to pre-COVID, when my older cousins with kids have to leave some holiday parties early to make it to their in-law’s side. Some alternate year to year what holiday they will spend with which side. The compromise of divvying out holidays is something I know is in my near future, especially since I do have plans on having a family of my own one day. To be honest, it’s kind of foolish of me to previously think that every single tradition I had growing up would be continued when the time comes for me to have a family. But, a girl could dream. I came to the unpleasant realization that I can’t uphold all of those traditions – but that’s okay.

But one tradition that I would like to carry on in the future is celebrating “death anniversaries” for family members who have passed on. This is a tradition that my mom’s side upholds. For outsiders, it may be a little weird to celebrate the day when somebody died, but for us, it’s a reminder of the departed’s life. It’s a time to pray for your loved one’s soul that they continue to rest in peace on the anniversary of their passing. Growing up Catholic, anything surrounding death usually involves prayer. Given people’s differences in religion, and my own beliefs on religion, I would take this tradition and tweak a few things – turning it into a celebration of life, either on the death anniversary, or the birthday of the departed, maybe even both days.

This is something that my mom’s side practiced since I was a little kid. My mom’s eldest brother passed away before I was even born, but I have fond memories of us praying for him and having a bigger than normal Sunday lunch to celebrate. The painted portrait of Uncle Rolly was displayed every death anniversary. They would light candles and gather in the Livingroom of Mama’s house to begin the rosary. Even though I never knew who he was or got the privilege to meet him, I knew of him because we celebrated him and remembered him on his death anniversary.

Mama would orchestrate Uncle Rolly’s death anniversary rosary. And when she and Tatay Celso passed away, we continued the tradition for them. When July 12th and November 10th roll around, I know we are due for a family party. I black out that weekend because I know we will be celebrating with a family gathering and prayer service, no question about it. Because everyone is off doing their own thing, this is the 1-3 times out of the year we are all guaranteed to be together as a family to remember a family member who is no longer with us. It gives the family time to catch up, bond, and see each other. If nobody told you it was a death anniversary party, you would think it’s somebody’s party. And that’s basically what it is – a huge party with a lot of food and people.

Celebrating death anniversaries is definitely a tradition I want to continue for future generations to come. I think it’s a beautiful thing to honor someone in the family who is no longer there physically. It gives a chance for the younger children who never knew them, to still get the gist of what the person was like through stories and memories. It takes a sad memory – for those who remember – and turns it into a celebration of life and good times for the people who are still around. Even if this tradition evolves over time and eventually turns into a dinner at a restaurant instead of one of the siblings hosting it at their house, it is still the same concept of celebrating and remembering someone who has passed on.

That’s something that is very important to me – letting my future children know of their relatives that have passed on that played a big part in their parents’ lives. I’m really big on family history, and making sure that nobody is forgotten. Celebrating someone’s birthday or death anniversary is also a great way to cope the loss of someone important in your life, even if it is years after the fact. For my Mama and Tatay Celso, we celebrated every year until COVID hit. Even the random 2-9 year death anniversaries, because we want to remember and we want to keep their memory alive, letting them know that even though they’re not here physically anymore, we still celebrate and remember them. It’s super important to me for my future children to know their lineage and know where they came from, who were the people that helped raised me, and how we remember and honor those that came before us.

The Picture Hoarder

Marinelle CabilloLeave a comment

As a kid, I was never into video games like my sisters were. They had their own Nintendo DS, but I never cared for one. I was more into TV shows, talking on the house phone with my friends, drawing fake Myspace’s for my Bratz dolls (yes, you read that right), and taking pictures. Back in the day it was a ritual to bring a disposable camera (holy shit, that makes me feel old. Haha) to school events. It was especially a must to bring a camera to the last day of school. I brought a disposable camera every last day of school since the third grade. The last day of school always gave me mixed emotions. I was happy to be out of school and on summer break, but at the same time I was sad that I wouldn’t be seeing my friends as often, because some even moved away. Also, the next school year didn’t guarantee that my friend group would be put in the same class. I was happy to have my camera to take pictures in the present moment of all the fun, friends, and memories.

I loved to document all of my last days of school, family parties, field trips, and special events. Getting my pictures developed at Costco was one of my highlights for the summer. Especially with the disposable cameras – you just never know how the pictures are going to turn out. Then in the 7th or 8th grade, I invested in a digital camera. I saved up all of my money for this purchase, and was so excited to take it to school and family events. I’ve always been a photo hoarder, but getting the camera really stepped up my game. It gave me the opportunity to not only have the pictures as hard copies, but digital copies as well. I was so hyped to buy SD cards for my camera to make sure that I always had them backed up online, and on a chip. Deleting photos was really hard for me, and on an 8th grader salary, buying SD cards got pricey. But I did it anyways because I refused to delete memories even if they were uploaded online.

Now as an adult, my obsession with saving pictures is basically the same – but grew as technology got better. My partner doesn’t get why I feel the need to keep pictures of basically the same thing from different angles. I’m that friend that wants more than 1 picture from different angles and heights, but will still keep them all regardless. I’ve gone to the extent of getting a 200 GB SD card for my phone, but also backing everything up on the computer and on my phone that I pay for yearly for storage. That’s basically thousands of photos and videos saved on 3 different platforms – and I wouldn’t want to have it any other way. I have had my fair share of files being deleted, phone being stolen, and XYZ that has resulted in me losing my pictures. When it’s time to get a new phone, I always try to make sure that nothing will get deleted. That’s honestly one of my worst fears because my photos mean so much to me.

I love pictures – even if I’m not in them. I’m an extremely sentimental person, and even at a young age I’ve felt the need to preserve and remember memories and certain points in my life. Subconsciously, I am keeping all of my pictures because I know that there will be a time where I look back and some people won’t be with me anymore, or times have changed, or people have moved away. Pictures make me super happy to look back on, but can also give me an overwhelming feeling of sadness, knowing I can never go back to those moments and relive it with the people in the pictures. It’s like reliving parts of my life, or seeing my life from my point of view. When moments pass, all we have are memories and pictures.

I guess in a way, I fear that I will forget. That’s why I find it hard to delete pictures that ultimately have no importance. Like a picture of the sky, or a sign, or my food, all of these things that I can do without on my backup system that would clear a lot of room on my $29.99 a year for 200 GB. But I love getting little notifications letting me see what I did on that day 4 years ago, and so forth, even if it is random everyday mundane things. I’m so busy pushing forward, trying to get to the next goal, next stage in my life, that looking back on what was is comforting. It’s nice to live in the moment, but also have something to look back on, like a little souvenir from that occasion.

Especially with my 97 year old Tatay, pictures are important. Pre-COVID, my extended family would visit and have dinner at Tatay’s every other Sunday. But since COVID, we have yet to have another family gathering in his house, especially since he is high risk. Stopping these visits really took a toll on his memory and health. When my family and I stop by to say hi for less than 5 minutes, he doesn’t remember us with masks on. Recently, we’ve been showing him photos of him and us, or him and his other grandchildren, in hopes that it will trigger some memory. I’m happy to dig through my collection and hope to find something that will get him to remember us.

I’m notorious for saving close to every picture I take on my camera roll to my SD card and then backing them up to my cloud. I am fully aware and admit that I am a memory hoarder. It’s such a mix of emotions, knowing that you’re living in the moment and documenting what is happening right then and there. And then weeks, months, years down the road you forget about that memory until you come across those photos again. And you relive those moments, remembering the little things, down to your outfit, how those shoes were bothering you because you were just breaking them in, what food you were eating, how you got there because you took a picture in your Uber, and all these little details that would’ve been forgotten. And for a moment, you’re taken back to that time. I love getting those little reminders like, “8 years ago on this day you were doing this…” It gives me a second to pause, and appreciate the memories I made and documented with the people I was closest to at the time. I’m very sentimental in that way. And sometimes I picture myself as an old woman, when I’m about Tatay’s age, looking through all the pictures that I’ve backed up over the years, remembering all the good times, all the people that were a part of my life, reminiscing and trying to remember the life I lived.