Tag Archives: death

The Passing of Lolo

I have written about him before. Janet’s Grandfather, Lolo here in the Philippines, was probably my favorite family member. He didn’t speak a word of English and my Visayan is at best gamay (small) but I enjoyed seeing him every time I visited Janet’s family in Alcoy, Cebu. We had the same routine and everyone knew it. Janet would get a large bottle of San Miguel and we’d sit next to each other and share it with few words but many smiles.

Our Christmas routine was also set. Janet and I would visit Alcoy and when alone I would slip Lolo some cash. He was always very appreciative and I would hear later that he’d shared the proceeds with some of the grand and great grandkids.

As Lolo hit his late 80s his general health and spirits began to fail. Janet would encourage him, telling him she’d throw a big party for his 90th birthday and fly in some of his children who lived in Manila. Janet and I talked about this upcoming event many times; we were both looking forward to it when 2020 began.

Covid changed all that. As a senior, Lolo could not leave his house; neither could I. He could not understand why his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren could not visit him. By May the restrictions had been lifted enough to allow him to leave his house. But Janet and I could not travel to another island to be with him for the big day. Nor could his children in Manila. Nonetheless a 90th birthday party happened, sponsored by Janet. We promised Lolo that as soon as island to island travel was allowed we would have the promised big party. Yesterday that promise became irrelevant.

Over the past six months we had heard that Lolo’s spirits were flagging. All he wanted in life was to see his family, many of whom he could not see. He spoke sadly of it to his daughter (my mother in law) yesterday and then went to sleep; a sleep he never woke up from.

The family patriarch is gone and everyone is heartbroken. Janet, who kept hoping the travel restrictions would be lifted, is devastated that she could not see her Lolo one more time.

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We are trying now to arrange for her to go home for the funeral but in all likelihood she would be quarantined on arrival and miss the funeral. I have encouraged her to go anyway, since it seems clear to me that the restrictions are not ending anytime soon and she needs to see her family and they her.

Now, I could wrap up this blog with anger over the restrictions, the crazy attitudes toward our elderly, in the guise of saving them, and many other rants. That may come in a future blog but for now I won’t. I will just use this as a memory of a wonderful older guy who accepted and shared a beer with a new family member from 8000 miles away. I will miss you Lolo!

The Passing of a Friend

Prologue: I first have to apologise to my wife, Janet. After the last couple of blog entries, which were serious and somewhat negative, she asked if my next entry could be more of my typical funny or irrelevant style and I happily agreed. But as you’ll see, this ain’t it.

Facebook and all social media are a weird amalgam of good and bad. One of the good things is that I have many many Facebook friends who I have never met in the “real” world. Most of them came my way via this very blog. Guys (a few ladies too) friended me because they liked my writing or humour or because they too were married to a Filipina, or had moved or were considering moving to the Philippines. More recently I got lots of friend request from guys who were interested in my house build.

One such friend was Alan Zaintz. He lived in Cebu and Florida and was married with a young child. We chatted online regularly, particularly the last few months. Of course we shared being Americans married to a Filipina. We also shared being Jewish; with names like Zaintz and Weisbord it was pretty obvious. There aren’t many Jewish expats here but I know a few.

As I say, the Facebook thing is weird. Is a guy a friend who I have never met? Anyway I thought he was a friend and so did Janet. He “liked” many of my posts on FB and commented often.

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This morning I found out that he passed away in Florida at the end of December. I don’t know the cause although in our conversations he implied that he was in excellent health.

Again, how do I feel about the death of a friend I only knew in cyberspace? In my case I feel as sad as I would if he were someone I knew here in Dumaguete.

And then of course my own fears kick in; those of mortality. Alan was actually two years younger than me. Janet reminded me to enjoy life now since there are no future guarantees. I ask you all to do the same.

I have nothing else profound to say. I can only ask you all to lift a glass today to the memory of my friend, Alan Zaintz.

Sickness and Death in the Philippines

Note: There’s not a lot of humor in the following piece. Next time – I promise!

Sunday morning Janet got up early to check her messages. I wasn’t surprised. Her department at work is short-handed and she sort of expected to get called in on her day off. She’s an Asst. Manager and I am very proud of her, but this crap happens all too often.

She threw on some clothes and I expected to hear that she’d gotten called in. Instead she only said, “my uncle died.”

“What? You mean the one who was sick?” Actually in my pre-awake haze I’d gotten that wrong. Another uncle’s wife had been ill and there had been several calls and drama about that over the previous week. A young woman in her early 30s she’d been going to doctors for months and they hadn’t yet solved the problem. In the end the family decided that she should travel to her parents’ home for rest and recuperation. But what to do about her three children? Her husband would come home to care for them and my mother in law volunteered to care for one of the kids, who immediately moved in with the family.

My mother in law has raised ten kids, three of whom are young and still live at home. In addition, she has two baby/toddler grandkids who live next door and spend much of their day with grandma. In fact so much of their day is spent with her that they call her “mama.” It’s common in the Philippines.

She has made it very clear that if Janet and I ever have a child and if we would like to drop off the child for a little while – oh, say six months – that would be fine with her! She’s had a lot of kids and grandkids, but no white babies with long noses yet 🙂

So it was no surprise that she took on her brother’s child so that the child’s mother could recover. Unfortunately, the woman doesn’t truly think she will recover and worries about what to do with her children after her death.

So naturally, early in the morning, I got the various family members confused. “No, not her,” Janet said. “My other uncle. Another of my mother’s brothers. You remember.” And I did remember meeting him and his being a nice guy. He too couldn’t wait until Janet had her “white baby.”

“What happened?” I asked. Take the following account with a grain of salt, because it’s third hand and told in a different language.

“His leg was hurting and they took him to the hospital in Dalaguete.” Now hospital is a misnomer here; the small town of Dalaguete, in Southern Cebu, has little more than a clinic. In the clinic, Uncle complained that the pain was greater and he could not move his leg. Though not deemed critical, the situation was serious enough that they recommended he be referred to a hospital in Cebu City.

His wife was told by friends that she ought to apologize for any arguments they had had. This is apparently a common belief in the Philippines before death, where spirits that have unresolved conflicts can’t fly free. But in her view the condition wasn’t serious enough for the apology. She and other friends and relatives sat by Uncle, who had fallen asleep, as they awaited to arrange the transfer. Unfortunately Uncle had not fallen asleep; he’d passed away in his sleep.

The family was stunned as was Janet. Her Uncle was in his latter 50s; still relatively young; younger than Janet’s geriatric husband. And he was relatively healthy.

An autopsy was performed. It showed that he’d had a wound on the affected leg and apparently an infection traveled to the brain.

Janet was devastated by the loss of her uncle. The day was spent with lots of phone conversations and Facebook messages.

And of course when a death occurs you can’t help but think of one thing – your own death.

“I changed my mind,” Janet said. “If I die you don’t have to ship my body back to the Philippines. Just cremate me.”

“Why did you decide that?”
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“It’s too expensive.”

“I’m sure I can manage. I’d call your mom and see what she wanted done. But what are you talking about? You’re 27. You’re not dying. You will at least make it till we retire in the Philippines in two years.”

“Well it’s too expensive.”

“Speaking of expensive, don’t spend much on my funeral. I don’t care – I’ll be dead.”

Of course this led to the most important question and the one that I knew was coming: should we contribute to Uncle’s funeral expenses, or more accurately, how much should we contribute?

“How much do funerals cost in the Philippines?” I asked.

“It’s very expensive. I know how much was spent for my lola’s coffin.”

I Googled it and actually found lots of information on funeral costs in the Philippines. Of course, just as in the US, you could spend nearly any amount, from 10,000P to 1,000,000P.

After some back and forth discussion I proposed a figure. Janet scrunched her nose. I wasn’t sure if that meant the figure was too little or too much. “Ask your mom how much it’s all gonna cost and then we can decide,” I said. But we certainly decided that while we were ok with contributing we were not going to pay the whole thing.

At night Janet called her mom again. After getting all the latest news Janet proposed our contribution. Her mom countered the figure – lower.

“Mom says you get a 20% discount,” Janet said and we both laughed; the first laugh of the day for Janet. In reality the amount was modest and once again showed me that for all the complaints from some expats about their Filipina’s family, I have a great one!

BTW, here’s another example of how wonderful my Filipino family is. Janet’s mom complained because her 19 year old son, now gainfully employed in Cebu City, called her 4 times to make sure she was OK. She had just lost her favorite brother and was no doubt heartbroken. But mom was amused and annoyed that the son wouldn’t leave her alone.

As with all deaths which occur suddenly, there were lots of comments all day about what a good thing it was that Uncle didn’t suffer.

My attitudes toward my own death have changed so much over the years. When I was 20 I was positive that I would “live fast and die young.” By middle age I figured I would live fairly long, not enjoy it too much and work till I died. Now at 62 I find myself at times a bit scared. I have so much to live for and don’t want to lose a moment of it!

P.S. Watching a movie Janet just leaned over and told me, “I want a baby more than ever.” We all think of our mortality in different ways. Clearly I have some work to do before I go 🙂

 

On old age, babies, and funerals (mine?) in the Philippines

In a couple of days I will hit a major milestone – the age that Social Security deems I can retire early. Of course before my co-workers begin the celebration, I should say that I am not retiring now, but apparently I could if I wanted to live on the pittance that I would get from a 3/4 Social Security payment.

Once again this experience reminds me that I am an old fart living the dream, married to a slightly less elderly Filipina and that for the next few months our ages will be the exact opposite of each other (62 and 26).

Like many old farts I am in contact with my high school friends via Facebook. Since at 21 I moved as far away from my home in Philadelphia as I possibly could and still remain in the continental US, I have not seen most of these people in over 40 years.

Last night I was looking at my long list of high school Facebook “friends” and thought of a friend I hadn’t seen on FB. I did a quick search. Yep, you guessed it; he died two years ago. This is the second time in six months that I have searched for a friend that I’d wondered about for decades and the second time I found that the only viable reason someone isn’t on Facebook, is because they’re dead.

I found that the only viable reason someone isn’t on Facebook, is because they’re dead.

Janet came home from work and I told her I was a bit sad at my discovery. She knows me well enough to know that I was feeling my own mortality and reminded me I am healthy and that most importantly my otin still works and consequently we will have a baby and that between my young wife and child I will remain young for many years to come. Either that, I thought,  or they will put me in my grave quickly – but I kept that to myself.

In fact, I recently had a conversation with another high school friend on Facebook (this one is actually still alive) who is very happy that I have Janet in my life but implored me to not have children. After all, she reminded me how old I would be when a new baby hits 21.

“I may be old, but I can still do the math,” I reminded her. “The good news is I may not even live till my current kids are 21,” I declared hopefully.

I reminded her that ultimately no one knows. My mother, in great shape, died at 40 when I was 19 and my father 100 bills overweight is still alive and cantankerous at 85.

This led Janet and I to a conversation about her plans about a baby. She is confident that she can control the characteristics of said baby and so here is her plan.

Naturally, the baby will be female.

She will have my skin and nose – a given if you ask Filipinas. This is the reason they married us – our long noses and pasty skin color.

The baby will have Janet’s eyes, hair color and texture. No bald babies for us!

The baby will have Janet’s figure.

However, the baby will have my loboot (ass). Janet is constantly complaining about her loboot (personally I like it very much) and wishes that I could miraculously “give me your loboot.” I wouldn’t mind giving her 10-20 of my pounds. If anyone has any suggestions about how to make such a transplant, let me know. But in the meantime I am tasked to give the baby my big loboot.

With the baby to be’s looks being now decided (who needs an ultrasound) it was time for us both to scan Facebook for any new and  essential information of the day. We stumbled on a question about a elderly German living in the Philippines, near death and broke, and what could be done about burial costs.

Naturally this let to a conversation about my impending demise. I repeated that I preferred cremation and that Janet ought to keep it simple and not spend a bunch of money on me, since after all I will be dead.

“But where will I visit you if we cremate?” Janet asked. This is essential to a Filipina and a Catholic.

“Well I guess you can keep the urn if you want. Then you don’t have to visit me. I’ll be with you.”

“I don’t like that,” she replied. “Then your spirit will be watching me constantly.”

“Then scatter my ashes,” I replied as a reasonable Westerner.

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“Well, bury some of the ashes under a tree.” I am nothing if not a great problem solver.

“Not the same,” she said.

“Whatever you want then. I’ll be dead. Bury me, so you can visit me.”

“This is best,” she replied. “Then people can see you in death. How many days should the viewing be?”

“What! No way.” In Jewish tradition we are much more reasonable (and sanitary). There are no open coffins and the deceased is buried within 48 hours.

“Then how will family be able to say their goodbyes. In the Philippines they pass the coffin and touch you.”

“I don’t want anyone to be touching me when I am dead!”

“Then you can get an expensive coffin with a glass cover.”

“I don’t want anyone to see me when I’m dead. I’m not that great looking alive. Let’s go back to cremation.”

“But then I can’t visit you.” We were back to the beginning again.

“But I don’t want to spend a bunch of money on a plot; it’s a waste.”

“In the Philippines you can rent the plot. 500 pesos a year.”

“That’s pretty cheap (about $12/year). Forever?”

“Oh no. Only for five years.”

“Then what?”

“They dig you up and take your bones and put them in a small box.”

So I have made a decision. You’ve heard it here first. I am not dying!