Cureless

I just realized during the times I got sick how true were Mommy’s words. Your family would always be there until they become your last resort. Your friends may give you temporary comfort but they’ll eventually leave.

That Thursday afternoon, I was already feeling bad walking to the dorm with Daisie and Jason, I called home, telling Michi to bring me some headache tablets. But I was surprised to see LA (my maternal grandma) with Michi. I was half-expecting her but I wasn’t really feeling that grave that I would think I will be needing any of LA’s help. But I felt a familiar sense of helplessness. I had a high fever and I was sweating to death when I took Paracetamol.

I went home with them. A part of me was saying I could handle myself that time without the help of any of my family members, just like my rumies. But I was still convinced to go home. I was very dependent on my family.

Well, actually what made me write this was the fact that I kept on thinking ill about my grandma. I was very narrow-minded towards understanding her. I mean, she doesn’t need my opinion about her. She’s just doing her job - keeping the house while my parents are gone. From the start, I’ve set this standard for my elders - comparing them with my Mama and Papa (paternal granny’s). I was wrong to compare LA with Mama. I have not always liked her from the start, I’ve kept my opinions and misconceptions about her. She’d always told us about the debts other people owe the family and how she & Lolo Nick extended help to other people by lending them money and other stuff. I was sick of that. And when I learned that LA’s receiving some kind of payment for her job as the housekeeper, I thought more less of her. I ridiculed her behind her back (just like what I do with other people, I admit, like Horse-with-No-Name, for example).

But I remember those times when I was sick. She’d check me in my room. She’d sleep in my room at night. And of course, prepare the sick food. She’s just like Mama. Once, I heard her whisper a prayer in the morning while I was still in my recovery process. I was touched of course (but I was still irked by her act of “whispering” the prayer). I’m liking her now. I liked her sense of humour before. Unlike Mama, she has a good deal of it. But again, let’s not compare. Two different personalities. Two aged and experienced persons. Two parts completing our family.