Far From Neutral Notions – Philippine politics, culture and stuff

It’s the Holy Week – Cuaresma or Semana Santa – a week dedicated to the contemplation of the life, death, and rebirth of our Savior Jesus Christ. That’s pretty significant, considering it’s the very basis of the entire Christian faith. And it’s strangely sad that I have nothing relevant to say about it.

My maternal grandmother got sick at around this time, last year, within weeks after her 87th birthday. I was working at a call center at the time, eagerly looking forward to my midyear bonus. Like most call centers, we work through the holidays, and I had to raise hell just so I could go home and visit for a couple of days. Lola was in the hospital, barely able to talk. She was as cranky as ever, though, and my mom suffered almost as much from that as from Lola’s condition.

Strangely enough, it was there, on the hospital’s ICU, that Lola gave me her blessing. “Do what makes you happy,” she whispered, her now-thin hands barely able to grasp mine. She was talking about my music, the heretofore primary source of tension between myself and the rest of my family. I’m what you’d call a black sheep, I guess; my brother’s a lawyer, my cousins are dentists, entrepreneurs, businessmen, successful. Where they are sophisticated, well-to-do and suave, I’m crass, unkempt and tactless. They were go-getters, ambitious and relevant. I just want to play my guitar. It’s certainly not how my parents raised me, and I think that’s what galls them the most.

Lola was the first to “offically” accept the whole package, and I will never forget that. My Korg AX1500G is named “Paz”, after her. And on that fateful day on the 17th of April, when she drew her last, agonizing breath on that hospital bed, her stiff, icy cold hands locked in rigor mortis, wrapped around mine, I remember breaking down. I remember losing control. But I also remember saying a silent prayer of farewell and thank you. Because by accepting me in full, she gave me the freedom to play my music.

And that’s something I will never forsake.

Related posts:

1. Father-Son Thing
2. 2004: a Retrospective
3. The Guitar Blog
4. The Death of Poodle
5. Dimebag Darrel killed at 38