| November
20, 2001
Appreciation
By Michael L. Tan
“WALA nang
natitira,” (No one’s left), Dolphy sobbed, in front of
television cameras. He was mourning the death of Nida Blanca, one of his
best friends and co-star.
I suspect that heartrending scene is repeated every day all throughout
the country and should make us think: How do you console people like
Dolphy, old and wise to the world yet feeling so helpless as they see
their contemporaries leaving?
And seeing Nida Blanca’s mourning mother, who must be in her 80s, I
wondered about what we do for parents whose children die before them?
It wasn’t just Nida Blanca’s death that got me reflecting. My last
weekend was a sad one, attending a funeral and a wake. First there were
family friends, a man who died at 61, leaving behind a mother who was
93.
The second case was also difficult because it involved a former student,
Marge, who was only 22 and just graduated from college last year. She
was killed in a car accident.
Advances in public health have resulted in dramatic increases of life
expectancy, but this has also resulted in new dilemmas. Someone in his
or her 40s mourning for a deceased parent is very different from an
octogenarian grieving for a deceased spouse, friend, or child.
Already burdened with heart problems and other diseases of old age, as
well as by feelings of isolation, mourning can be more traumatizing for
older people.
The males may have even more difficulties coping in cultures such as our
own, where men are not allowed to be as open as women in expressing
their grief. In a way, Dolphy may have helped many older Filipinos by
letting them know it is all right to cry when you lose a loved one.
My point is that when someone dies, we often give all our attention to
the bereaved spouse or children, and forget that older relatives and
friends may be suffering more grievously at the side.
We need to be thinking about special arrangements for older mourners.
I’m glad several hotels have sprouted along Araneta Avenue in Quezon
City, close to the funeral parlors.
One of the hotels proved useful because we checked in the old mother I
was talking about earlier. That way she could grieve in a semi-private
setting, with her close friends but away from the more hysterical
atmosphere of large crowds. Having the hotel room also spared her from
having to battle Manila’s traffic on top of dealing with her loss.
The death of my former student reminded me of another important social
change in the way we look at death. Until about 50 years ago,
child-rearing was a fairly incidental matter.
Diseases and natural disasters claimed the lives of many children quite
early so there was an element of resignation among parents when a child
died. Remember, too, that in the past, people married much earlier so
parents “lost” their children quite early. The ties with parents
were therefore fairly loose.
In our modern times, we think of the young as healthy, almost
invincible.
Also, we invest much more in our children in terms of emotions and time,
with much grander hopes and expectations. I speak here as someone
without biological children of my own but who’s done a lot of
“accidental parenting.”
I usually get the anthropology majors in their third year, teaching them
several courses. In their last semester before graduation, I take out an
entire “brood” (numbering up to 30 at a time) for fieldwork and
full-time parenting.
I’ve had my share of the fretting and worrying, as well as the
feelings of joy and pride listening to their stories and seeing their
excitement as they discover new horizons in life.
Some readers will remember my columns about our field school in Dimiao,
Bohol, last year. Marge was one of the participants. I grieve, too, even
as realize that my grief can only be a fraction of what her parents and
grandparents are going through.
As I sat quietly in the funeral parlor, I could almost hear Marge
laughing (she was one of the most cheerful students I ever had). The
term “viva” comes to mind—she was so full of zest for life. In
remembering Marge’s ebullience, I realized how vital these memories
can be in helping mourners, young or old, with the coping process.
A welcome trend I see in American and British newspapers is the posting
of notices called “Appreciation”--rather than obituaries--with a
brief description of the person’s life.
These appreciation notices aren’t all empty praise; some in fact can
be quite irreverent, recalling many lighter moments in the person’s
life. An obituary (from the Latin obitus, death) emphasizes loss
while an appreciation commemorates the good times we had with our loved
ones.
In a way, we already have this celebratory element in Filipino wakes,
with mourners staying late into the night recounting the deceased’s
many accomplishments and adventures (and, albeit in whispers, foibles
and misadventures).
It doesn’t matter then whether one dies at 22 or 82 because the
stories remind us of the myriad ways in which the deceased made a mark
on our lives.
Older people can play special roles here with their many vivid memories
of people and events stretching back across the generations. As these
caretakers of family lore begin to talk, they are really bringing back
all those involved, living and dead, in a reunion of sorts.
Telling these stories allow Lolo and Lola to come to terms with their
grief while hearing the stories allow listeners to realize the wake is
not so much a time for saying goodbye to the deceased than of a tribute,
of saying thank you.
In death, an appreciation of life keeps spirits, and the human spirit,
together.
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