Thursday, October 22, 2009
Glasses of Light and Grandpa's Eyes: Remembering our Lolo Larry
Some things in this world are visually inseparable. For instance, try to imagine Adolf Hitler without his signature mustache? Or Fernando Poe Jr. without his long patilya. Try picturing April Boy Regino (Philippine singer) without his cap and Eddie Gil sans his pilokang itim. I bet you can't.
Same thing when I think of my grandfather. Just can't imagine him without his sunglasses. It's like a made-for-each-other sort of love affair. Where one is, there goes the other.
Lolo Nayong, as I tenderly call him, kids a lot about his dark sunglasses being made exceptionally strong to resist the toughest of storms, solid enough to stay screwed on a ten-storey free fall, and above all, crafted to suit his well-defined facial features. Of course, he'd laugh afterwards.
My grandpa, already in his 90's, no doubt, is the coolest Lolo of all. Who would believe that even in his age right now he can still ride his motorbike with the ease of an expert. Speeding off like a pro car racer, he could smoothly dodge potholes and swing dangerous curves, to the amazement of many. He might adore his bike but not more than his sunglasses.
As a devotee of his sunglasses, Lolo abhors substitutes of the sort of fad being flaunted right now. In clinging to his very own treasure and stalwartly snubbing any substitute, he is comparable to those legendary lovers of yore whose devotion to their lady loves were unwavering. To this day, my grandpa has stayed true to his sunglasses.
Every visit I do to my hometown, I always make it a point to drop by Lolo's abode just to be entertained with his sharing of the funny anecdotes of his life. He never fails to charm me with unending tales from how he managed to mesmerize grandma's elusive heart to how he convinced everyone that his 10 years older of grandma was never an impediment to a happily-ever-after romance. He regularly tells me how he exercised by playing tennis till he was 70 and helping till his rice fields even up to now.I love my Lolo so much. Not because he has a high regard for what I do. Not because he loves reading my articles to the last word. Neither because he is awesomely unique with his eyeglasses. Not also because he likes talking to me in English language and that he always insists I inherited his talents and skills. I love him simply for the reason that he brings joy to the family, a true treasure himself with a comforting aura only himself can offer.
However, on the night of Oct 17, 2009 he said goodbye to everyone. Everything in second went dull in color. Although, I could say that Lolo had served his whole life on earth and it's now his time to see our creator and experience a never ending happiness. When I'd see him again soon in heaven, he'd probably smile at me, maybe hug me tight and then tell me again and again how good I have turned out to be and how so good-looking I have developed into over the years. As always, I would only laugh silently and entertain the one logical yet amusing idea why I rather hope for Lolo to wear his treasured sunglasses often.
Missing you my dearest grandpa. :)
Some things in this world are visually inseparable. For instance, try to imagine Adolf Hitler without his signature mustache? Or Fernando Poe Jr. without his long patilya. Try picturing April Boy Regino (Philippine singer) without his cap and Eddie Gil sans his pilokang itim. I bet you can't.
Same thing when I think of my grandfather. Just can't imagine him without his sunglasses. It's like a made-for-each-other sort of love affair. Where one is, there goes the other.
Lolo Nayong, as I tenderly call him, kids a lot about his dark sunglasses being made exceptionally strong to resist the toughest of storms, solid enough to stay screwed on a ten-storey free fall, and above all, crafted to suit his well-defined facial features. Of course, he'd laugh afterwards.
My grandpa, already in his 90's, no doubt, is the coolest Lolo of all. Who would believe that even in his age right now he can still ride his motorbike with the ease of an expert. Speeding off like a pro car racer, he could smoothly dodge potholes and swing dangerous curves, to the amazement of many. He might adore his bike but not more than his sunglasses.
As a devotee of his sunglasses, Lolo abhors substitutes of the sort of fad being flaunted right now. In clinging to his very own treasure and stalwartly snubbing any substitute, he is comparable to those legendary lovers of yore whose devotion to their lady loves were unwavering. To this day, my grandpa has stayed true to his sunglasses.
Every visit I do to my hometown, I always make it a point to drop by Lolo's abode just to be entertained with his sharing of the funny anecdotes of his life. He never fails to charm me with unending tales from how he managed to mesmerize grandma's elusive heart to how he convinced everyone that his 10 years older of grandma was never an impediment to a happily-ever-after romance. He regularly tells me how he exercised by playing tennis till he was 70 and helping till his rice fields even up to now.I love my Lolo so much. Not because he has a high regard for what I do. Not because he loves reading my articles to the last word. Neither because he is awesomely unique with his eyeglasses. Not also because he likes talking to me in English language and that he always insists I inherited his talents and skills. I love him simply for the reason that he brings joy to the family, a true treasure himself with a comforting aura only himself can offer.
However, on the night of Oct 17, 2009 he said goodbye to everyone. Everything in second went dull in color. Although, I could say that Lolo had served his whole life on earth and it's now his time to see our creator and experience a never ending happiness. When I'd see him again soon in heaven, he'd probably smile at me, maybe hug me tight and then tell me again and again how good I have turned out to be and how so good-looking I have developed into over the years. As always, I would only laugh silently and entertain the one logical yet amusing idea why I rather hope for Lolo to wear his treasured sunglasses often.
Missing you my dearest grandpa. :)
posted by dipdip at 1:40 PM
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