"Okay naman po kami, sir." [We're just fine, sir] was my father's response when I queried about his health. We siblings looked at each other.
Suddenly, our third-to-the-youngest sister unabashedly wailed, "That confirms my nagging suspicion, Tatang (father) couldn't recognize me anymore."
It was one of those days when all siblings are present. We casually brushed sister's display of woe aside and tried to pay more attention to Tatang. We continued with our conversation, sometimes mentioning names of our former neighbors. Our family happens to be one of yesteryears' informal settlers. From Cubao we moved to Marikina where we have been relocated thrice. When Tatang hears a familiar name, he would blurt out with a comment: "Mayabang yon!" [He is full of air!]
Then time for parting came. Tatang did not stand up to see us to the door which he usually does. When I hugged him the response was not as tight as before. I missed the blessing part, "Kawaan kayo ng Dios anak," [God bless you dear.] Instead, he had that far-away look in his eyes.
My aunt (Tatang's sister-in-law) who walked us to the gate casually commented, "Ag-kabao ni Tatang mon." [Your dad's getting senile].
On the next visit, we found Tatang in a good mood and was sharing stories we never heard from him before. We learned he was a long-distance runner and had won some athletic events in his elementary years. There was one he won where every supporter threw their hats up-in-the air. His eyes glowed as he once again basked in that moment.
I would get to see him every 6 months due to my overseas work. But as days went by, there was a time, he would only sit by his bed. He never uttered a word. He was just playing with his pillows.
There would be times he would be calling aloud people's names which my sister, who was care-giving for him, says no one knows nor remember. I would jokingly tell her that if it were a lady's name, probably one of his girl friends. If it were a man's name, someone who owes him money. When I asked her to mention some, I could somehow recall those were names of his co-workers. Tatang used to work as a barber in one of Quezon City's best men's hair salons in the 70s. [A related piece is found somewhere in this blog thread.]
Then it suddenly dawned on me - if I would be at Tatang's age, I might be like him. I have seen my future.
To be continued...if I won't forget.
