Tag: tribute

Yelly Writes

Margie Concepcion L Osorio

Yelly

In Filipino, we have a word for “big sister” – it is ATE (ah-teh). In several Philippine dialects, it is Manang (mah-nahng). We also have other words for elder sister, according to whether they are eldest, second eldest, third eldest, and so on.

In my mom’s family, there is an Ate, a Ditse, a Sanse and a bunso. My Lolo Osiong and Lola Gening had 8 living children – 4 boys and 4 girls.

The Ate in my mom’s family was my Tita Margie. Tita Margie was, to me, the paragon of all Ate virtues. Without any exaggeration, I’ve always felt that Tita Margie epitomised the perfect “Ate”. She took care of her family. She took care of my Lolo and Lola. She took care of her siblings. She was at least 10 years older than the second eldest girl and she took her role as big sister seriously.

Mom often recalled that her Manang Margie made matching clothes for them, my Tita Migen, my Mom and my Tita Bing. They had pictures of the three of them wearing matching outfits that Tita Margie had sewn for them. Mama always said that Tita Margie always insisted on all of them being turned out well, that she would sew them outfits if they had something important to go to. She was the same with us. She would insist we dressed up properly and dressed appropriately.

Tita Margie started sewing when she was in high school and never really stopped. I remember she would sew clothes for my cousins and me. I remember all the clothes she sewed for me. Her sewing machine and sewing kit were a never-ending bag of surprises and she created magic with needle, thread, cloth and her Singer sewing machine. Once, my brother Aryeh asked for a plane-shaped soft toy and Tita Margie, even though she had never made a toy like that before, gamely took the challenge on. That toy is still at home, in Don Jose, somewhere. Tita Margie always made things to last.

Tita Margie was the constant in my mom’s family…at least to me she was. She was always there for everyone – for her brothers and sisters, for her nieces and nephews. She was the head cheerleader for her family. She was proud of her siblings and their achievements and I know that in her own way, she made sure that her siblings knew that. She let them shine and she helped them shine.

Tita Margie always wanted the best for her family. She was the same with her nieces and nephews. In a way that was uniquely Tita Margie, she encouraged all of us to be the best we could be. She supported us in whatever way she could. She cheered us on but at the same time, if she felt we were behaving in a manner that was less than acceptable, she would tell us, in no uncertain terms. She had rules and she had standards. But she had a way of calling out bad behaviour that only she could. We may not have felt it at the time, but in hindsight, everything she did, she did in love, because, she always wanted what was best for us.

Everything she did, she did because she loved us. Everything she did, she did for her family. Her love for her family was in everything she did, in every word, in every deed, in every stitch, in every treat, in every gift.

I cannot imagine Manila without Tita Margie. I cannot imagine not seeing her cheeky smile and hearing her witty conversation. But at the same time, I am relieved that she is no longer in pain, no longer uncomfortable, no longer struggling to move. I am thankful that she is now healthy and whole, with my Lolo and Lola, with my Uncle Magni, Uncle Franklin and Uncle Wawell. I am thankful that she is now with the Lord. I am thankfully reassured that when the time comes, I will be with her again.

I love you Tita Margie.

Yelly Writes

Mothering Sunday

Yelly

My photo turned into a poster via Adobe Spark #notanadvert

“You make yourself strong because it’s expected of you. You become confident because someone beside you is unsure. You turn into the person others need you to be.” ― Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts

Happy Mothers Day to the strongest woman I know. I love that I get to celebrate you and everything you have done for us twice a year! I love you Mama!

Everything you’ve taught us, I know you’ve learned from Lola Gening, who was such a wonderfully beautiful human being who always taught us to focus on the good, the beautiful and the peaceful. My Lola always taught us that if you couldn’t say anything good to not say anything at all. I must say Lola that I have failed on several occasions to do that. But I am a work in progress and I will get there someday and I will learn to be as genteel and proper as you.

I hope Lola, you know that Mama has raised us as well as she could with your guidance and I hope you are smiling down on her today.

Happy Mother’s Day Mama!  I know that you are with Abba in the hospital today and you haven’t told me because you don’t want me to worry.  Your strength of spirit is an inspiration to all of us.  I love you.  I am proud to be your daughter.

Yelly Writes

Grief

Yelly

I know I am still grieving.  Even though I smile and I laugh at things.  My days are still tinged with sadness.  But I will be okay.

I have told myself that whatever it was that I wanted to say, whatever it was that I never actually said to my uncle, if I send out in the universe, God will make it possible for my thoughts to reach my uncle.  He will know how much he is loved, valued, oh-so-appreciated and respected.  The regrets are counterproductive.  It is good to acknowledge them, but it won’t be healthy to dwell on them.  There is nothing that can be done about the things that I haven’t done.  The opportunities have passed and I will have to trust that God will make my good plans and intentions known to Uncle Wawell.

The only way to honour him is to live the life that I am living, the life that he dreamed for me and all his nieces and nephews.

 

Yelly Writes

Emmanuel Libre Osorio

Yelly

© Riki Sandalo

Carlos P Romulo personally asked him to join his team when Mr Romulo was appointed head of the Department of Education.  Mr Romulo even sent someone to where they lived in Frisco to invite him to join him in government.  Larry Henares called him an Islamic scholar.  He was a proponent of the Ninth Ray campaign to introduce a ninth ray on the sun on the Philippine flag that sought to recognise the contribution to Philippine history and sovereignty by our Muslim brothers.  He was highly regarded in the UP community and was well known as a poet, a writer, a scholar and a brilliant mind.  He was a proud Filipino.

He was a political organism.  He ran in circles with the great political thinkers and political personalities.  I grew up with him saying he met with this person, or had coffee with that, and then I’d read the name in the newspapers.  I know very little of his political involvement, only that he once ran for public office in Toledo, in Cebu.  He didn’t win the election, but I have no doubt that had he been successful, he would have served with all his heart, only thinking of what was best for the constituents he served.  He helped set up livelihood programs in various locations in the Philippines to help his countrymen improve their lives.  He spent his years advocating Mindanao Muslims so that they were represented and respected as valuable, integral parts of the Philippine society, and not viewed as schismatic or separationists.

But to us, his nephews and nieces, he was simply Uncle Wawell.  The uncle who wanted the best for his family.  To me, especially, he was Koji.  When I was little, he was the uncle who visited me and played with me.  He allowed me to call him Koji because that was the name of the character he played in my dress up games.  He even suffered a busted lip once because we played jump rope and my head hit his chin and he bit his lip.  He was in pain, I’m sure, but he said he was okay.

I think he taught all of us how to play chess. I remember him telling me when I was looking at what piece to move that I needed to think, be strategic and plan.  Little did I know he was trying to equip me for life.  He was telling me that it was necessary to plan and to know where you wanted to go, what result you wanted to achieve and to consider carefully how you planned to get there.  He loved his lists of things to do and enjoyed word games, particularly a good crossword puzzle.  He loved a good chat and a cup of coffee, and he could talk about anything under the sun.  He was brilliant like that.  He believed in his nephews and nieces.  He was our biggest fan and our biggest defender.  He was someone who was always there if you needed to talk.  He tried to give us everything we wanted, if he could.  When he found out that I needed a portable typewriter for school projects, he just appeared at Don Jose one day with typewriter in hand…just because I needed one.  He was like that.  He once said that he would do everything to support his nieces and nephews, because he wanted us to realise our potential to make up for him not living up to the promise of his own potential.  He loved us, in the way that he loved his brothers and sisters, deeply and completely.

Antonio Porchia said that “one lives in the hope of becoming a memory.”  On Friday morning, I received the heartbreaking news that my Uncle Wawell passed away.  Koji is no longer physically with us.  I will never hear him laugh or clear his throat, or hear him call his sisters Fems, Gards, Binggay or Jinks, which always made me smile.  But he is with God and he is whole, healthy and no longer in discomfort. He said once to me that he never lived up to the promise of his potential.  Oh but he did!  He has contributed to everyone’s lives in more ways than he can imagine.  He has made the lives of a multitude of people better.  He has made his family feel valued, supported and important.  His memory will live on through his family, his nieces and nephews and their children, and the people whose lives he touched.

We love you Koji.  We are proud to call you our Uncle Wawell.  You are remembered with pride and love.