Of Octogenarians and Septuagenarians
When my very own favorite grandma and grandpa died, we weren't there in Antique. We were not even there to pay our last respects because of school and financial limitations. But before we came here in Mindanao to join our parents, my Lolo and Llola cared for me since birth and until I turned Grade 5. Entering Grade 6, I left them for Mindanao to join my sister and my parents. It was a heartbreak. They were already in their Septuagenarian days when we left them. And I remember my Tatay Salus, as we fondly called him, roaming the streets near our house and peeing in his pants; he was already in his incontinent state. My grandmother, sickly and with an enlarged heart at that time, would carefully and patiently dress my grandfather, bathe him and turned him smelling good again. I still remember the two of them going to church together, and leaving church separately. Nanay Connie would bring me home, expecting Tatay Salus to be home earlier until we had to search for him,