CEBU, Philippines - Looking behind me and finding two storybooks in the backseat of that car was one of my happiest moments as a child. I remember just how quickly my mood changed from throwing a minor fit after he lied and told me he wasn't able to get me the storybook that I've been bugging him to, to being overjoyed the next minute, knowing he got me not just one, but two storybooks.
Lolo Teody was very much a part of my childhood that removing him from the picture would just change everything. He once stood in for my father – he would take me to school, and fetch me after. The best part was a drive-through at Jollibee. That was everyday routine, proven by the drive-through window personnel who already knew me by name, and probably even my favorite food. I wonder how many pieces of Chickenjoy I've eaten from that place.
Another place we constantly visited was the Inver Treasure House, the art and antiques shop run by Lolo and my mom. It was where we headed everyday, where I would eat my daily dose of fast-food, after a long day at school. My lolo was an art and antiques collector and this was where some of his collections were on display. Of course his collection extended to his home, which was filled with those big jars which myth attribute supernatural beings dwelling in them, and in drawers where his collection of stamps, coins, and paper money were kept.
In his younger years, Lolo took up Law. Although it was unfortunate that he wasn't able to pass the bar exam in the 60s, my mommy said that while he was in Manila to take the bar exam, he befriended a tailor, whose shop soon became his hangout. He took pleasure watching the tailors do their work, that when he came back to Cebu, he opened a small tailoring house. The business grew. He would give cash incentives and free dinner to the most productive tailors to keep them motivated, especially in the peak season. He would be there every day to talk to clients and do some work himself, like cutting cloth.
During the Martial Law era, Lolo produced a Cebuano movie, and some Cebuano records. He produced local tv game shows called "Sali Kami" and "Search for a Singing Star" which were on GMA and Channel 9. He crafted the prototype of the heishi shell necklaces in Cebu, modeled from the US. Soon after that, the necklaces proliferated all over town. On a smaller scale, he was very active in the village too. When he was president of the Tisa Hills Homeowners Association, he got the roads paved, planted trees, and installed lamp posts all over the village.
Lolo owned several properties. He said that it's good to buy land because the Lord stopped making it, while people are still making money. Brilliant, just like the man I always thought he was.
Later in his life, crafting furniture with painstakingly carved detail and a smooth finish, free of nails and screws, became his hobby. Aside from his furniture, other things that remind me of him are the stacks of books that I assume he all read. One side of the wall-to-wall bookshelf is occupied by books on philosophy, comparative religions, and the occult; while the other, books on art and antiques.
My grandfather was a philosophical man, which must be why he took Law. He was the president of the Cebu Lodge of the Theosophical Society of the Philippines, an international group of thinkers that held their meetings every Sunday. As a kid, I would tag along with him, which is why his colleagues, mostly men decades older than I, became my friends.
Lolo was a big influence to me, even though I did not know it at the time. Much of my taste in music and love for karaoke, I believe, I got from him. There were nights when he would hold a big catered dinner during the village fiesta where everyone in the village would come to celebrate at his house. Then I would be his karaoke princess, singing songs of the Carpenters. I would let go of the microphone only when it was time to leave. There were nights in the backseat of his car, when I'd fall asleep to the sweet sound of Air Supply. On some mornings, I ate breakfast with him. He would feed me hard-boiled egg and rice with his bare hands. And one time when he wasn't there, I made a comment saying the food never tasted as good as when it's from my Lolo's hand. I've never felt so close to a man as with him.
More than his admirable people skills and wicked sense of humor that brought him success in many avenues of his life, he was a loving grandfather who did not only get me the things I wanted, but also taught me things I needed to know.
Once, we were in the mall and I saw this pair of Barbie rubber shoes which my mom thought was unreasonably pricey. For some reason, my grandfather didn't get me the pair either. I was really disappointed and just like in the case of the storybook, I was throwing a fit in the car, on the way home. I didn’t know how my grandpa got to what he was saying, but I remember him telling me I wouldn't want to end up like those kids selling papaya in the street, pointing to one just beside our car. He also told me, another time as we were going to bed, how he used to go to school barefoot, as a kid. (He was the only one among nine siblings who finished school, with his own efforts.)
My grandfather was the only person I was ever a spoiled brat with. I think it was because he always enjoyed buying me things. My mom recalled how one time my Lolo took me to Robinson's but warned me that he didn't bring cash at the moment. While I was there I saw, (again) a pair of Barbie rubber shoes and told my Lolo I'm not leaving without it. Luckily for me, he had enough cash to get me the pair. I never measured his love solely by the things he got me but that alone proved that he did love me a lot. My mom recalls the time too when my lolo would leave the antique shop, and I would tell my older brother we should behave because he wasn't there to take our side anymore. That's how close my brother and I were to our lolo.
One afternoon however, I realized things would no longer be the same. He was by his shop when he hit a cab. His feet could no longer control the car. He had a mild stroke. The fact that he'd been a vegetarian since his 40s had not spared him from hypertension and diabetes ran in his side of the family. He ended up with a large wound that developed from a small one as he kept scratching. Things worsened, to the point that one of his legs had to be amputated.
Many things deteriorated along with his health. No more grand dinner parties during the village fiesta. No more pleasant car rides. Car rides with him consisted of him grunting about the driver not driving fast enough. A man in a wheelchair who lost more than just a leg, replaced the healthy and humorous lolo I always knew. My relationship with him was just never the same anymore.
After his death in 2006, I found out that he had a mistress and one daughter with her. Often we find that we could never really put into words all our memories, experiences, descriptions – a whole account of a person who meant something in our lives, simply because words never seem enough. That's exactly how I feel about my Lolo. And no matter how different things turned out, one thing never changed – the way I look up to him. I only wish my cousins could have known him the way I did. That way they could look back and remember him like I do. He will always be the best grandfather, and the best man to me. (FREEMAN)