Lola Nenecute’s Birthday
Friday, March 20th was a special day. It was my lola’s birthday. Eufemia Diancin Deocampo del Rosario. She was the matriarch of the Nazario del Rosario clan. She is known to my younger sister and I as Lola Nenecute because I was a little girl and she thought I was cute, so she called me nenecute and I also called her by the same name. To my cousins she is affectionately known as Lola Peniang or Lola Pins.
Lola Nenecute (aka Lola Pins) holding infant me.
Photo taken in Brooklyn.
Lola Nenecute is long gone and has entered the realm of our ancestors. She gave a good fight and stuck to her morals, but we lost her through complications from her admirable fight with breast cancer. Although her many grandchildren did not all get a chance to spend a lot of time with her, we still know her. I know Lola because I know her through her seven children. We also know her because of the people we consider family. She showed love to those that she didn’t need to show love to and treated them as her own blood. Lessons in this. Lessons in forgiveness and family above all.
Lola Peniang is there when my Tita Suzanne (who is also my ninang or godmother) taught me how to debone bangus — twice. She is there when my tita also helped tutor me with piano and with aural examinations with music. Oh my gosh, did I suck with singing at first. Playing piano though, has always been second nature for me. She’s there in the way that Tita Suzanne took care of me every other day, taking turns with my mom, both night nurses, to care for my two cousins, my sister, and me. Lola is there in their faces. She is there when my other tita, Tita Neneng laughs, in her mannerisms—it’s fun because she is always laughing when we catch up whether on the phone or in person. She is there in the quietness of the oldest brother, who has a louder, funnier side, but is outwardly shy. She is in my dad’s demeanor—his kind healing presence, the glue of the family. She is there in the way my other tito, Tito Boyet honors our ancestral home in Iloilo, taking care of the memories, and is our family historian. She is in the gift of music that many of them share. She is there when Tito Nonong performs with his band, a skilled and magical guitarist, an overall great musician. She is there when my other tito, Tito Bobbet, runs his own medical billing business, an entrepreneur, a strong spirit. She herself ran her own business, yes that of bangus, but also that of running a family. Wouldn’t you say that all mothers are entrepreneurs? It’s a warm business, a heart business, a non-capitalist business, to grow a family.
Lola Nenecute (aka Lola Pins) with Lolo Naz
My cousins and I remember through them, and when we stop to think about it, through ourselves, too. Many of us are musicians in our own right. We are creative and soulful people. We have intuition and are spiritual. Although my parents didn’t know it at the time, she wanted to have a grandchild with the name Christine and was very happy when she learned that was my middle name. I think of her when I remember that. Another cousin is her namesake, Eufemia. She is with us. We value family and fight to keep those bonds strong—across states, countries, oceans, continents.
It is hard for me to write about this and not connect to our current struggle. This quarantine in the times of the novel coronavirus is difficult. Distance has been more palpable lately, by the fact that travel in general has become impossible without causing detriment by spreading COVID-19. Yes, we have several options to videochat, but the fact that we no longer can safely visit at this time is more than disconcerting. I have a sense of grief—a re-trauma—of the great distances I have between myself and my loved ones. I am even unable to physically be with my parents who live only a 45 minute drive away, across the border, in New Jersey. In many ways the current systems of patriarchy, capitalism, and colonialism have failed us. COVID-19 is an ever-present threat and we have yet to see through the smoke. It forces us to face the ways in which each of us have privilege and the ways in which we do not. It shows the gaps in privilege in our society. Hopefully, it makes you want to help those in dire need who are suffering and awakens you to the massive changes that must be made for the sake of our wellness and also for the earth’s.
When we start to get down, we can look to our ancestors for strength. I think about how Lola did not have an easy life, but she found strength and hope in difficult times. My ancestors survived hundreds of years of colonization, of martial law, and years of familial separation for the sake of opportunity. They are with us. We carry them with us, in our hearts.
I am certain of this because Lola has visited me more than once. The first time that I can remember was when we were going to the Philippines back in 2004. I was nervous because we would be separated from my dad, who had recently obtained his citizenship and had to stay in the states, after a years-long battle with immigration to get his papers corrected. More on that another time. All of the fear from the years of either being uprooted or living apart from my dad was retriggered in that small moment of boarding a plane. I couldn’t stop crying and can only explain in retrospect what was happening with me. Suddenly, I noticed a familiar sound. It was the sound of The Maiden’s Prayer. My heart stopped for a moment. This was her favorite song to play on the piano. It was the only song that my father ever requested from my piano teacher that I learn, and I performed it for my third grade piano recital. Years later, my Tita Suzanne played it for me as my bridal march when I walked down the aisle for my wedding ceremony. This song is not an overplayed song and I’d never heard it come on the radio before now. There it was, playing over the intercom of the airplane. My mom was busy settling our belongings and I interrupted her to stop and listen. She knew right away, she said, “Oh my, it’s your Lola, she is with us telling us it is going to be okay.” I calmed down and was at peace.
The second visit happened one October morning. I will give a detailed account of this in the story, “An Autumn Morning”. She came to check-up on me during a liminal time. She popped into my mind, an outline of her image formed in my kitchen by the stove. I went back to bed around dawn, slept in, and was awoken by a cold breeze upon my head. I couldn’t move because it was a state of sleep paralysis. Eventually, I fell all the way back asleep. Later, after speaking to my cousin, I learned that it was her death anniversary and was close to Samhain in the Northern Hemisphere. I’ve always felt a close bond with her. She took care of me when I was a toddler, living in Albany. She shared with me her gift of music—and classical piano. Piano was a first love, an early comfort, along with my dog Tony. I always went to the two of them in moments of despair and anger to calm myself. I also shared extreme joy with these two. Teaching piano was my first ever job, taught while I was an undergrad—and I’ve done it for years. It was such a joy knowing she was checking up on me, petting the top of my head lovingly. It was also an intimidating confirmation that all of the other spirits I’ve seen during sleep paralysis are real. That’s a whole other story.
I’m wearing a dress that Lola Nenecute made for me with material from one of her own gowns. I’m with my stylishly dressed cousin, Nono. Photo from 90s Brooklyn.
I am so grateful for all of my ancestors, all of our ancestors. We literally couldn’t be here without them. Remember them and honor them. Make connections, open your heart to living relatives and chosen bonds. There is something familiar about being with someone who is family. Your heart relaxes and strengthens at the same time. You share stories, remedies, pain, and who you are to each other. What greater gift is there than finding a safe space to share yourself, your true self with another soul. I think that while you have family related to you by blood, you can also choose who your family is, and this will fire up your blood when you are together, create magic and healing. Sometimes your family is drawn to you and you create a new circle. There is something ancestral in sitting around a table and eating a meal or sharing a story. It harkens back to the time when we first learned to make fires and form group personalities, community, a culture.
So on Lola Nenecute’s birthday weekend, I leave you my thoughts on the gift of family and hope you stop and ponder what family means to you.
Sending love to all. Halong ka gid-Hasta sa liwat~Take care-Until next time.
Jessica C Strom
