NANAY

 

NANAY

On December 16, 2023, our loving mother, Ofelia Castillo Nicolas, went home to meet our Lord. She was 85 years old.

Nanay was the best mother in the world. I don’t remember how old I was, but she would always sing to me until I fell asleep. The song she always sang was “Si ale ko nena, magandang maganda, nahulog sa balon, naging gumamela . . . . .” Then there was the song “Those were the days,” and she would sing, “Lay, lay, lay, lay, lay, lay, ang labi ni Noel, lay lay, lay lay, ang labi ni Noel” . . . . touching my lips while singing it.  

Of course, when we were young, we experienced her cleaning and washing us. She always did that to me, and instead of doing it inside the bathroom, she would do it on the sink in the kitchen. 

Every night, no excuses; she always leads us to prayers and devotion.

She was a very happy woman. Did we see her cry? Of course, we did.

One day, she was taking care of me and feeding me. Her brother, Tito Oscar, came. I didn’t hear what they were talking about; I just saw her cry very loudly. I didn’t understand then, and I don’t understand now, but if I have to guess, I think it was the death of somebody. I think it’s our uncle’s death, her brother-in-law. I remember us going to Cabanatuan.

We saw her dedication as a pastor’s wife. As a young child, I saw some people maltreat our parents. People thought they owned the church and everything in it, even the pastor’s family. I saw how Nanay treated them like important people, even though it upsets her sometimes. But in the end, it means supporting Tatay’s ministry.

I remember she almost drowned just to get us food to eat. That was the scariest time of my life.  The flood in Calizon was so deep, and the current was strong. In spite of that, she went to the market to buy our lunch. On her way back, everyone was waiting and watching by the window, and in front of our eyes, she almost drowned. Thanks to ‘Kuya Berting’ for saving her.

Christmases and New Years

As kids, our world was smaller, and I mean that in a positive way.  We lived in a small village in Calizon, where everyone knows everybody.  To us children, Christmas was about gifts. New clothes, new shoes, toys, fruits, and candies. For the whole year, we only eat apples, oranges, grapes, and big candies on Christmas through the New Year season. They became symbols of Christmas for us because we didn’t eat them on ordinary days because they were expensive. Being expensive was not the reason we knew, but because those were the symbols to remind us that it’s Christmas. Just like Santa, Christmas trees, and Christmas lights. Even in ‘Noche Buena’, no matter how simple our meals were, there should be ham and cheese. Those were the Christmases we experienced growing up. 

Tatay and Nanay prepared that for all of us.

Now, when your world has become bigger and you realize that you can have new clothes and shoes whenever you want,. You can buy apples, oranges, and grapes if you go to the supermarket. You can buy food, especially ham and cheese, even without Christmas. If that is the case, then I miss being in a ‘small world’.

I enjoyed being with her. 

She would always bring me with her to the market in Meycauayan. I miss those days. Also in the school. I remember one day while we were riding a passenger Jeep going home. A drunk man got inside the Jeep and asked me to get off or stand because he wanted to sit down. I saw Nanay’s troubled face, but she kept it cool.

She was also my teacher. It happened during my third year of high school.  As Nanay was an English teacher, our  section had to move around the campus for different subjects. Before that, she told me, too, that I could be their English teacher.  It was kind of tough too because she was always focused on me, and when she asked some questions, she would call me,  no matter how hard I hid in the class. 

I haven't seen her since they moved to the USA in 1985, but I saw her again probably in 1990 or 1991. I just got back from China, and when I went home, she was there, and I was very happy to see her. After her going back to the United States, I haven’t seen her physically. We just kept sending letters wherever I was.  

After I had some personal family problems, even by letters, I didn’t feel any coldness from the way she wrote those letters.  She just kept on reminding me about how important my children's lives were.

As the years passed by, I communicated with Tatay via email, while Nanay was still sending her letters to me via post office. She always sent me updated photos of my brothers and sisters, their husbands, wives, girlfriends, and boyfriends. And most of all, she would send me updates and  photos of my children. 

Our communication developed into messaging. Both of them, Tatay and Nanay, sent me messages almost every day. They were both excited about me reconnecting with my daughters, and I gave them updates on my daughters’ weddings, children, and families. 

There was something about Nanay that made me always answer her messages immediately. One day, she messaged me goodnight.  But it was daytime, in my time, and I was in the middle of a management meeting.  When I stepped out of the meeting room, I saw her two messages.  One was the goodnight message, and the other was the message that read, “Hi anak, I am very worried about you not answering my message. Please don’t let me worry.”

When Tatay passed away last year, I called Nanay and told her how sorry I was for not contacting Tatay often.  I promised her that it would not happen to her. From then on, I tried my very best to call her every day, even during  my work time.   Sometimes, we talked for  a few minutes. Sometimes, it was longer minutes.  Every day  I talk to her, she ends it  with,  “Mag iingat ka lagi anak, malayo ka sa amin.  Wala ako dyan sa tabi mo pag nagkasakit  ka” (Be careful, my son; you are far from us. I'm not there by your side when you get sick.). Then she will end it by saying, “We love you; Tatay and I love you very much.”

Ironically, I was not by her side when she passed away.

Nanay's faith was so strong. Not a single negative thought.  One day we were talking about the past, and I only mentioned that I thought Tatay died because of the side effects from the COVID-19 vaccine.  I was expecting her to say something like, ‘well, probably’.  But instead, she said to me, “Don’t think about it like that. We are in a pandemic now, and those vaccines need to be tested and studied for the benefit of mankind. It is God’s will.”

When I was denied a US visa twice, that was really bothering me.  Why do those people not have any consideration?  I mentioned this to Nanay also, and she just told me. “Noel, believe that God allowed that not to happen; He must have a reason to do so. Those people are just doing their jobs, and it just happened that one of their jobs is to not give you a visa.” 

She always had a positive attitude.  Her faith in God was so strong that it sustained her all the way.

She was both excited and nervous about her surgery. She told me that  she wanted to walk again, even with a walker around Hannah’s (my sister) home.  But she told me, too, that she was  also nervous because she was already old.  I kept reminding her that God would be with her during the operation, and she would stop worrying.

Her operation was successful.  It was done on October 5, 2023.  I  received a message from her telling me that the operation was successful and she was excited to go home.

On October 7, I received a message, plain and simple. “I love you, Anak.".

Then, probably after that time or the next day, I received a message from my sister that our Nanay had suffered a stroke.

I didn’t see my mother for a very long time.  No hugs and kisses.  But the last 16 months of talking to each other everyday, even by phone, were the best months of my life. Nothing can bring her back again, but her memories live on.

I love you, Nanay.