Goodbye, Dear Godmother...(A Tribute)

She was our house maid. She was a 'babu', as she would often called herself. She had been there even before I arrived in this world. She had been working with our family even before my mother got married. She served my family with sweat, tears and at times, blood. There was a period of time, however, when she went to the service of one of my mother's aunt. It did not last long. She went back to us, citing awful treatment. She then stayed on with us, loyal until the day she died. She was, in the end, a true member of our family.

This woman wasn't blood-related to me, yes, but I might as well had called her my second mother. She would be my replacement mother whenever my real mother was not around. She would soothe and calm me or my mother whenever we were having one of our arguments, in the end reconciling our differences. She would oft times listen to my troubles, even though I suspect that she might not fully understand the true meanings of my words. But at the very least, she was there. And she was sincere.

She would be the second person who knew everything about me: how I was born; my childish habits; my first, and a subsequent, head wound that net me two stitches on the scalp of my head; my true personality at home; and (almost) all the secrets to my family life. And knowing this, she guided me with advices. She was the second person whose advices I truly listened to (or force myself to listen to), no matter how cliche they were. I must say that it was quite a feat for her, knowing how hard-headed I could be most of the time.

She would also be one of the few persons who understands my mother the most: her personal life; her taking care of me and my brother; her true personality; her temper; her life's many hardships; and her life's many secrets, many of which I still don't know and might never will. She happened to be the one of the few persons whose advice my mother listened to. Again, quite a feat for someone whose daily work was only being a house maid.

It would seem as if I were everything to her. But I know where her true loyalty lies. And often times I suspected that her caring for me was only a mere extension to that loyalty. However, no matter where that loyalty lies, I have benefited greatly, mentally and physically, from that loyalty and I know that I should be grateful for that.

I had better.

I must confess, that I don't treat her the way I should at times. It was that master-servant mentality that took over most of my dealings with her. But after the fit subsided, I would look and realize that this woman had been with us since...forever. She had taken good care of me and my family. And whenever I felt that I had done her wrong, I would come to her personally, look her in the eyes, and apologize from my heart. My apologies, the true and honest one, the ones that come from throwing my pride away, come rarely. But the ones I gave her were always of that kind.

Swallowing one's pride is never an easy thing.

Like any person one meets in life, she wasn't perfect. She had her failings. It seemed that the women in my immediate family were riddled with quite short fuses. She often had her fits of anger and I could see it in her eye (she lost one of her eyes to a sickness) when the 'madness' took her. She would not do her chores, and she would often spit out loud, sharp words that would truly hurt even my father, who often didn't give a damn about what people say. The only member of our family who could stand her bickering and her sharp words is our dog. It may sound funny, indeed, but I highly suspect that that dog is the only soul who knows her true self and love her for who she really was. And in any case, she was the one who fed him.

Only later would I suspect what made her came about that behavior of hers. I am still unsure, but my suspicion of the cause of her behavior would cast a good light on her. I prefer it that way.

Have you ever have that feeling, that certainty, that the people close to you, your family and friends, would live forever? Well, prepare to be really disappointed: they won't. Life goes on, and life will teach you that the people you are close won't be around forever. Life would took them away, sometimes so abrupt that you won't have time to say good bye to them. To apologize. To say how much you appreciate them. To say how much you hated their guts at times. To say how much you love them.

That was not the case with her. Her passing from this world had been too slow and painful. We found out about her cancer when it was too late. We suspect that her sickness had been eating her body away for quite awhile (thus the cause of my suspicion on her behavior). My mother did not want her to go through all that chemotherapy mumbo jumbo, knowing that it would not help and would only prolong her suffering. And thus, the Sickness took her from us little by little, as her life faded away into the Unknown.

Her soul, the person we knew, was lost to us long before her body failed her. I considered her lost the day she looked for me twice while I was sitting right in front of her. Mother and I grieved for her long before she passed away.

The day her body shut down was uneventful. My mother told me about it over the phone. Her immediate family back in her hometown was the one who took care of her. She did not have any husband or children of her own. I was her child. Her god-child. And my mother her sister.

I would have thought that life without her would be different, hard-like. Yet it seemed strange, that the passing of someone you were so used to having around in your life felt so natural. Or...is it just I who don't give much of a damn? Whatever it is, life goes on. And so do I. The dead pass away, but their immortality lies in our memories of them. Thus her spirit will always be with me, and with the people whose lives I touch. This I believe.

So, farewell dear Godmother...
O, Guardian of our family's life and secrets,
May God find you true peace and happiness...

This is a final tribute from me to you.


The sun was shining bright outside the school. The sky was blue with only a little hint of cloud. The sound of children's laughter was ringing in the air, a sign that school was over. It was a good day, a beautiful day, a day none like the other day. But, what have we here? Oh, dear me! There was a little boy in the corner, crying, while his friends were laughing and jumping and playing about the schoolyard. School is over, school is over, so happy are we, can't wait to flee, the children would sing and laugh. But not the little boy, however. Away from the others, he was holding onto the schoolyard fence and sobbing, such a sad little boy. I want to go home, said the little boy, where is she? Where could she be, cried the little boy.

One by one the other children went home, and so the schoolyard grew quiet but for the sobbing of the poor little boy. Oh, poor me, poor me, no one came to pick me, sobbed the little boy. Even the sweet words of the teacher telling him that, your parents will be here soon, dear, now will you be a good boy and come sit with me, could not ease his worries. And when it seemed that all hope was lost for the little boy, when he felt the world was not a safe place for him to be, the school's front door opened and came barging in a lady with quite a heavy built.

Oh, dear child, stop crying! So sorry am I to have come at so late a time! Come, come, stop your crying! I will take you home with no delay, and I will make you the most delicious food you have ever tasted. Come now, you will meet your mother soon enough, dear child. Now smile for me, will you not?

And the (now) happy little boy smiled. He knew that he was safe. He knew he was coming home. It was a bright day, with blue skies, and it was filled with a boy's laughter.

In loving memories of Yati (19?? - 2006)
(She never knew her date of birth)