It’s been three days since I departed from my grandparents’ house, a place I called home for about a year. Naturally, this departure brought gloom upon me. How could a year where nothing noteworthy happened be so mundane, yet pass so quickly?
There is guilt dwelling inside me; it feels as if I’ve done my grandparents a disservice. All these years, I have barely visited them—there were instances where I almost had to be dragged just to show up. My memories of their place were filled with images from more than fifteen years ago, which should not have been the case since their home is just a few minutes away from ours. Of the twenty-five years I’ve lived, fifteen were spent almost without a hint of my Lola Lourdes and Lolo Jun. Even when they were present, it was usually them visiting us in our abode. Yet, despite all this, they welcomed me with open arms, granting me a place to call home for a year while I tried to carve a path for myself and learn more about who I am.
Originally, we were supposed to have a fun and simple video blogging page. When I first arrived, I was surprised by the verdant garden they had cultivated in the months prior to my arrival. I was deeply moved by their passion and teamwork toward this greenery project, which convinced me to start a Facebook and YouTube page for them and their garden called “Lourdes and Jun’s Farm.” At first, I uploaded a video several minutes long, showcasing their current plants and harvests. I believe the plants were cucumbers, green bell peppers, bottle gourds, red chili peppers, and a few others I cannot recall at the time of writing this. I kept up with the uploads for a short while until I stopped due to a lack of motivation and the distraction of other pursuits—mainly video games.
This pattern of starting new projects and abandoning them continued until the day of my departure; I would even argue that some of them were never started at all. I planned on growing mushrooms, lettuce, garlic, and other food plants, but it was all for naught. Everything was forsaken in the name of video games. I also failed to help them aside from the most basic of tasks; beyond washing dishes and the occasional sweeping or mopping, I did almost nothing else. This is one of my biggest regrets: Why did I not help my aging and ailing grandparents?
Though they repeatedly announced that they were still fit for such chores—and that I should not concern myself with trivial things but focus on studying or working—I know they still needed help. They needed a hand more than ever as age slowly creeps up on them, particularly for my grandfather, who my mother says is terminally ill.
I changed a bit too late. I know I will no longer have a chance to live with them—not because they would not accept me back, but because my path has already diverged from theirs. I must now walk my own path again for myself, my parents, and my siblings. I might be able to (and I certainly should) visit them from time to time, but ultimately, my life is already pointed in a direction away from them.
My dear grandparents, Lola Lourdes and Lolo Jun: I am sorry for my previous lack of gratitude and respect for the shelter, food, comfort, love, and care that you have given me. I will forever cherish our short conversations—the stories of your past and the hardships that came along with them, the lessons you taught me, and all the sacrifices you’ve made for me and for our family.
Thank you for being there for me as I sought a path of redemption. I wish I had stayed with you when I was in a healthier emotional and mental state, but alas, my stay was over before I knew it. I know you were quite surprised, too.