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My Aunt, My Godmother, My First Love

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The entire neighborhood was enveloped with darkness. And its strong presence gave a notion of threat and fear. It was brown out and only a single candle lit the main entrance of the old house. I was sitting on my grandfather's lap wailing. I was agitated. "Ninang....," I heard my voice calling out her name sobbing.

She had been gone since that morning and it was already late in the evening. We didn't have any idea what time the electric supply would come back and the unpleasant situation only added to my distress. Why hasn't she arrived yet? Where did she go? Did she leave me behind for good? Still very young at six, I was filled with revulsion. I started to throw tantrums. Negative thoughts began popping into my head. My wild frightening imagination had possessed me.

She was my father's younger sister, my aunt and my godmother. I call her Ninang. Everybody had relied on her. She was lovely, vibrant, caring and nurturing. She was the most beautiful woman in my yet to get developed mind. She was everything to me. A dedicated educator by profession , she taught me how to write and made me read in an unusual way at the age of three. She made me practice reading through a vernacular magazine that still in circulation up to this day. She taught me nursery rhymes, sing children's songs, identify objects one by one in English and patiently narrated children stories like the story of the Monkey and the Turtle.

We became an extended family when my parents decided to head back to our home town in the province. My parents met in Manila, got married and had me as their first born in the city. But even when our young family was still in the capital, she was already a supportive younger sister to my father. I remember my mother telling me that she would hurriedly rush to the city whenever my father asked her to.

Back in the province, she could have been very excited for her new niece. After all, I was the only toddler in the house (my father is the only son in his family and all his married sisters have their own house). She had watched over me which made my mother more at ease while she became pregnant of my younger brother. I found myself being with her wherever she goes. Be in school where she used to teach, in social gatherings, in beauty salons, during wakes... name it. We were stuck like a glue.

My closeness with my ninang became more adhesive when my parents decided to move to another house. I was already the eldest of three and my mother had to spend more time in nursing my baby sister who is six years my junior. My brother and I stayed with her and my grandfather. I slept with her and my brother used to sleep with my grand father (my grandmother died when I was six years old). And because I call her Ninang, my brother calls her Ninang too. Growing up with my ninang made me very possessive of her. In my subconscious mind, she was my mother. I didn't even want her to get married. Every time there was a man coming to the old house to visit her, I made sure that I was always around. I never gave anyone the chance to speak to her privately.

Staying with her was never a dull moment. Even the most simple thing was exciting. In the morning while she puts her make up on in front of the mirror, I was there watching, trying every cosmetic on myself too. At night, while she does her lesson plan, I would find myself asleep on her table while waiting for her to finish her work so we could go to bed together. We cooked together, baked together, made clothes together... Err... she sewed clothes for me and my job was only to insert the string to the needle's tiny hole. She taught me how to attend mass on Sundays and pray the rosary (My family is catholic). During the Christmas season, she would wake me up at 3 o'clock in the morning to attend the 4 o'clock rooster's mass for 9 days before the Christmas' eve and on a lenten season she would encourage me to join her in the 14 station procession.

She was not only my keeper. She was also my mentor. In school where most parents were hesitant to allow their children to join in out of town extra curricular activities for a few days, she would convince my father to allow me to go and experience independence early. With her convincing power, I was given permission many times to attend activities outside our vicinity. She was my father's most trusted younger sibling. My angel.

Then the time of separation came. I was at my parents' house when my grandfather, accompanied by my father's eldest sister paid a surprise visit. It was my grandfather's first time to be at my parents new place that's why it was too unusual. It turned out that my eldest aunt was trying to calm him down because he was fuming mad. And who wouldn't be? My Ninang was getting married all of a sudden. What? She's getting married? Who's the bad guy that's trying to separate my world from me? The thought of having a stranger intruding between me and my ninang was quite hard to ponder. But as I had started to mature, I eventually understood that, yes, she deserved a new life. Marriage had been long overdue for her. She had spent most of her time serving my grandfather, my brother, some cousins and I. It was about time that she would look for her happiness. And so, I thought.

A year ago, I received a call from my father. I was asked to look for my cousin, my ninang's son who was here in Manila at that time and bring him to the province. My father hinted that my ninang might have just been waiting for his only child. And so I tried. Unfortunately, I had to head back to the province alone to see my beloved Ninang just counting her days. Confined in a government hospital, she looked fragile, weak, had difficulty breathing and hallucinating. She didn't recognize me at first but when she realized who I was, she opened her arms and with a soft voice, she slowly said, " Come my daughter and let's give each other a kiss." It was a very emotional moment that is still vividly clear into my imagination until now . As I held and kiss her, I knew deep inside that the gestures I gave her would be the last. It would be my final chance to say 'thank you' and 'goodbye' to my beloved first love. And indeed, it was.

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