These are the strange words engraved on a souvenir item that I recently gave to my sister Len. I was immediately intrigued when I found it in a shop in Ruzomberok, a sleepy Slovakian town last October. It was a booklet key ring that had lovely embossed flowers on the cover and short poems printed on its pages inside. I asked the Slovak saleslady what those words meant. In halting English, she said: “A sister is a forever friend.”
“What a perfect pasalubong for Len!” I thought to myself. I suspected that she would much prefer something more kikay, but I knew she would really appreciate this not-too-cheap item, too. And she did — not for its material value, but for the love and affection it represented.
Len, my only and favourite sister, was and always will be my forever friend.
Interestingly, I grew up having ambivalent feelings about her. She was older by only 3 years, but we were a study in contrasts. For one, our shapes and sizes were poles apart. She was heftily-built and pleasantly plump while I was scrawny and anemic. Papa and Mama would jokingly tease us that we were the perfect models for a “before-and-after the famine” poster. Fortunately, that disqualified me from being a beneficiary of her hand-me-down clothes and shoes.
But by her sheer size, she would bully me into doing household chores with her. For example, when she and our eldest brother Bebot were tasked to clean Papa’s precious hardwood floor, Len would make me sit on a rag. Bebot followed her example and would do the same with Michael. Bebot and Len would then drag Michael and me back and forth across the living room until our arms ached.
For another, our innate natures often clashed. Len did not care for keeping things neat and in order while I wanted everything in its proper place. Since we shared a bedroom, I was constantly picking up after her. She daily tested my patience to the limit. After years of being her virtual maid, it was such a liberating feeling when I was finally given my own bedroom.
Len loved to oversleep and take long siestas, while I ran errands for Mama or pulled Papa’s white hair. I was very picky with my food, while she gladly finished off everything on her plate and mine as well. She was bold, confident and seemed to have no stage-fright, while I was timid and would often faint for no obvious reason.
I could even blame her bullheadedness for getting the Aldecoa Family Singers started. She learned to play the ukulele when she was in grade 3. As she practiced strumming the song “No More” on her ukulele, I had to sing that song for her over and over again. It did not take long for her to graduate to playing the guitar. Michael, by then, was a boy soprano and she roped him in immediately. We practiced on lazy afternoons or after dinner. Under her direction, we made our own harmonies of the current top hits like “United We Stand/Divided We Fall” and “You Make Me Feel Brand New.” Before we knew it, the Aldecoa Trio was born.
A few months later, when Papa, Mama and Bebot joined the fray, Len and her guitar brought all our voices together. When the Aldecoa Family Singers entered the 1974 NAMCYA competitions in the Cultural Center of the Philippines, our winning rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In” in four variations and “Hatinggabi”, accompanied by Len on the guitar, blew everyone away.
Yes, Len was everything that I was not. And yet, as we both matured, what set us apart did not matter anymore. Through sheer determination, she dropped half of her weight, even as I caught up with her in width, but not in height. Somehow, her newly-acquired sveltness made her unsure of herself and she would often seek my advice, especially regarding matters of the heart.
We already enjoyed the same kind of music, movies, books and plays. We laughed boisterously and cried without reservation. Most of all, we both loved to shop for therapeutic purposes. Eventually, the things we kept secret from each other melted away. We found ourselves becoming more and more alike.
If there is one thing that remains to set us apart, it is the fact that I got married and she did not. In a way, she also forced my hand there. Had I followed tradition and waited for her to marry before I myself could marry, we would both end up spinsters. Len was never envious of my married status. In fact, every time she heard of friends having marital problems, her favourite refrain was: “Maayo ra gyung wala ko naminyo!”
Well, Len chose to follow tradition. I had to give her “nilakangan” not only once, but for 31 long years. Anything and everything that she asked from me or Chito, she only had to say it, and she would have it. After all, Chito was her favourite brother-in-law.
But she did not only receive. She had more to give to each member of our family.
While she did not have children of her own, Len was “Mame” to her nieces Kathleen, Jeneve, Rachel, Mica and Jessica, grandniece Debbie and grandnephew Andrew. In her own indulgent way, she spoiled them, but was also the sternest “Mame” whenever they got out of line. Her concern and care for them was sacrificial, but she derived much satisfaction in being a surrogate mother. This year, when my daughter Mica decided to study in Silliman, she watched over Mica with an eagle eye, which was a great relief to me and Chito.
When Len and Michael moved to the United States in 1986, she also took care of him there for six years. On Fridays, she regularly cooked food that was supposed to last him a week, but his friends enjoyed her cooking, too, and her bechuelas, inun-unan and adobo would be gone before the week started.
When I underwent radical surgery to remove a malignant tumor in my uterus, Len was beside me every moment. She took care of me like a true sister should.
Two days before she passed away, Len tearfully imparted a valuable lesson to Mica about choosing the right career and being satisfied with the choices that she will be making along the way. Len said that, had she wanted a lucrative career with the limelight on her, she had the opportunity to do just that when she was living in San Francisco. And yet, when Papa and Mama returned to Dumaguete upon their retirement from the Court of Appeals in 1992, she chose to come home to take care of them. It was a sacrifice that she wholeheartedly undertook, and she never looked back with regret.
This was so typical Len. Her concern and love for the family was always in the concrete, never in the abstract. When Mama was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma in 2002 and until she passed away in October of 2004, Len was hands on in giving Mama the care and attention she needed. With Mama gone and my moving back to Manila to assume my post in the Regional Trial Court of Makati City, Len took full responsibility for taking care of Papa. Her caregiving duties was 24/7 and she even slept in the same room with Papa to be sure that He would never be alone.
It was also around this time that Len was told by her doctor that she had an irreversible heart problem called Cardiomyopathy. In layman’s terms, it is a condition where the heart muscles can no longer contract to pump blood and oxygen. Her condition steadily progressed over the years and she was practically surviving on the cocktail of medications prescribed for her. She had congestive heart failure three times, but she bounced back each time. She was advised to limit her physical activities, to avoid stressful situations, and she was not allowed to go up or down stairs. This meant that in order to stay alive, she would have to stop teaching and directing plays.
Did the threat of an early death stop Len from doing what she loved most? We all know the answer to that. Perhaps it was the acceptance of the fact that her time on earth was limited that moved her to take risks. She loved teaching and so, teach she did. But she was not content to just teach, she made sure that her students learned from her. She directed one musical play after another, each of which took a toll on her health. Undaunted, she even took on more responsibilities, sharing her talents with the Mountaintop Fellowship and the Sons and Daughters of World War Veterans, to name a couple.
She adopted the Lhasa Apso puppy our cousin May Dino gave her, and named her Tara, short for Taratitat. Tara became Len’s baby, giving her so much joy. Her joy was multiplied fourfold when Tara gave birth to 4 adorable puppies a year ago. Len was beside herself as she assisted Tara in the difficult birthing process. She excitedly called me each time one puppy popped out. She adored them all.
Every now and then, she would remind me: “Jen, when it’s my time to go, ikaw nay bahala mohipos nako.” I always assured her that she had nothing to worry about. In my mind, I always believed that she would still be with us for a long time. Watching her go about her daily activities with determination and excitement . . . her impeccable matching clothes, shoes and bag. . . the carefully applied make-up. . . it was easy to forget that she was seriously ill.
We had a wonderful Christmas with Len. She was still on cloud 9 after the success of her most recent musical production, “GODSPELL”. She was effusive in her compliments for the cast, the musicians, and every one else involved in the production. It was obvious that she was very proud of their shared accomplishment.
She also personally bought and supervised the packing of food and dry goods for flood victims in Pangas. During the Mountaintop Fellowship Christmas Party, she clowned around and she was the life of the party. Little did we expect that this Christmas would be her last.
When in the early morning of December 29 Len was found cold and lifeless, lying beside her was the Holy Bible and the Celebration Hymnal. Surely, her last thoughts were of her Savior. By God’s grace, Len peacefully passed into eternal life with neither pain nor struggle. It was certainly a grace-filled transition.
Len, the drama queen, made her exit without a final curtain call, no wave of the hand, no kiss goodbye. We were all caught by surprise, in shock even, by the suddenness of her leaving. We could not help but ask, “Why?”… “Why now?”
Maybe Len really did not want to say goodbye knowing we would all be together again someday. Or maybe “GODSPELL” was not her swan song after all. I can only imagine that God may have gotten tired of just listening to the heavenly chorus. Maybe God wanted a full production and He needed Len to direct it. Or maybe she was needed to reorganize the Aldecoa Trio in heaven, this time with Mama and Bebot.
We will all surely miss Len for many different reasons. I will long for our daily texting and long phone conversations. I will miss crying and laughing with her. I will miss her “parayeg” to buy something for her. I regret that we never got to travel to the Holy Land together. I would give anything just to sing “I Love Life” with her one more time. And yet, her indomitable spirit, her generous being, and her irrepressible humor will live on in our hearts until the day of our joyful reunion.
As her only sister, I know Len well enough to dare to speak on her behalf. I know that she would want me to sincerely thank all of you for consoling and easing the cares of her loved ones with your support, comforting words, embraces and kisses.
I can almost hear her applauding her Mountaintop Fellowship family — the Ponce de Leons, Mamhots, Cahambings, Yrads, Villegases, Bonnie Flores, and Auntie Nita Padayhag; Chefs Uncle Ben and Auntie Naiding Valencia; the Kitchen Patrol composed of Rico, Maricel, Jessie, Cherry and yaya Moret; Mark Calumpang, Dr. Betsy Joy Tan and Prof. Carlos Magtolis, Vangie Rosales, Barbie Merced, Vangie Rosales, Oye and Loloy Mananquil, for a job well done.
I have no doubt that Len was mighty pleased with the heartwarming words of remembrance and tributes publicly given by Pres. Ben Malayang, Caesar Pacalioga, Bonnie Flores, Manang Fe Pia, Manong Rudy Juan, Teddy Boy Galicano, Myrna Ragay, Cecille Genove, Susan Vista Suarez, Linwell Bongcasan, Inday Maxino, Alice Mamhot, and Mica Delorino. To those who were too shy to speak up, you can be sure she heard your thoughts, too.
Len’s deep gratitude also goes to Pastors Jonathan Pia, Jeremias Lagahit, Elmer Saa, and Bernie Morales for assuaging the sorrow of her loved ones and friends through their meditations of hope and salvation in the sharing of God’s Word.
I can picture her smiling through tears of joy listening to the beautiful music offered by the Souled Out Singers, the SU Gratitude and Goodwill Ambassadors, the Heritage Choir, Pinocchio de los Santos, Manang Bobbie Vista, Berne Montes, and Tarhata Lagahit, Elman Caguindangan, B. Dao Nyoy, Cynthia, Myo Aung, Giovanni Punzalan.
And the flowers, Len so loved the pretty flowers.
To her dear cousins May and Butch, Len assures you that she is not reneging on her promise to stand by them no matter what happens. She has designated Chito and I to be her stand-ins.
She sends her love to Erlyn Demerre, her doctor. Len could not have found a better and more compassionate physician who helped her to live a life that had purpose, meaning and fulfillment.
Mike, Len is so proud of you. Your decision to come home for good so you can personally take care of Papa is more than she could hope for. She knew that between you and me, and with the support of Chito and Julie, she would be entrusting Papa’s care into our willing and capable hands. But she is also asking you and Julie to adopt her babies: Tara, Ace, Cassie and Dali.
Finally, Pa, Len could not thank the Lord enough for giving her an ideal father in every sense of the word. She achieved all her goals because you enabled and affirmed her endeavors. Nothing on earth surpassed her love and respect for you.
Recently, when asked why she gravitated towards musicals, Len answered: “Because I am musical. This gift of music is an honor and privilege from the Creator and Giver of all talents. It is also my mission to develop our home grown talents and give them the singular experience they otherwise would not have. It’s my way of paying it forward.”
Well, Len, you have not only paid it forward. . .you have paid it forward in full measure.
No goodbyes, Len. . . just “Until we sing together again in heaven.”
