Mamoo's 40th day
Today I would like to request everyone’s permission. I would like to be self-indulgent and write about my mother’s 40th day. It should have been last Jan. 15 but that was a Friday so I decided to schedule it the next day, Saturday, Jan. 16. I invited my children and my first cousins to lunch at Lily Pad, my Calamba home, which fortunately for me has turned into a weekend restaurant. My partner, Tina Tan, provides the delicious food served there and I, at least this time, simply provided the people.
But the 40th day is supposed to be a special time, I am told. It is the day the soul moves out of this world into the next. There’s something supposedly magical about the number 40. Jesus stayed 40 days in the desert. It took 40 days from His crucifixion to His resurrection. So we needed to celebrate Mommy’s 40th day. That’s on the one hand. On the other hand, my family has many religions, something I did not want to call attention to because I did not want any religious disagreements. So I decided to keep the ceremony simple. I would buy floating candles and we would float them on my pond.
But first we had to eat and drink well. Initially I thought I wanted to try the biodynamic pigs produced by one of my daughters’ friends. They are supposed to be delicious and extremely expensive. Why are they called biodynamic? I asked my daughter Sarri, who flew in from England to attend her Mamoo’s ceremonies and her father’s birthday. Because they are fed only natural things, she said.
What natural things? Pigs in my childhood also ate natural things. We called it kanin-baboy. It had no chemicals in it yet. It was all natural leftovers mixed together and fed to the pigs. Finally, one day she told me, biodynamic pigs are fed a diet of arugula and yogurt daily. A few days before they are painlessly slaughtered they are fed only mangoes. Ah, I said, biodynamic pigs are sosyal, high-society pigs. Who in this country can afford to eat arugula and yogurt every day?
I was — and continue to be — so curious about what this would taste like that I talked another daughter into giving one for lunch. But five days before I decided to cancel because of delivery problems. They could not deliver to Calamba. They were going to roast it in Pampanga, north, and deliver it to Pasay. I had to pick it up promptly at 10 a.m. I said I was not confident about their ability to guarantee me the presence of the pig. And I did not have that much time because I had to pick up my grandson and a daughter. Instead I decided we would have a delicious Filipino meal washed down with wine and juice and soft drinks.
On Thursday I went to department stores hunting for floating candles. I found some lotus candles at Shoemart in orange and pink. I bought 24 pieces. Then I fixed a picture of Mommy’s and pinned a paper butterfly I had made on the frame. On Saturday morning my grandson Nic and I got to Calamba early and could fix a table for my mother. I put her picture on the right corner and as I stepped back to admire it, I saw a small white butterfly with black trim caught between the glass and the screen of the window over the table. Mommy, I thought, the butterfly must represent her.
Shortly after noon Toto and Bessie arrived. Then Mia and Tato and finally Pedro and Ollie. After lunch but before dessert, I spoke up. This is Mommy’s 40th day and we must say goodbye to her. I think we should say it silently. I have floating candles. I would like each one of us to pick up one, light it and float it on the pond. To me candles mean prayers. I always light a candle when I pray. After that, we shall come back for dessert.
You do first, Toto said. I picked up a candle, lit it and went to the edge of the pond. Ooops, I said, I can’t bend low enough to make the candle float. If I do, I might fall in. Micky, I called my youngest niece, help us out here. We are getting old. So we lit the candles and handed them to Micky and she floated them on the pond.
What can I tell you? It was a moving ceremony, very beautiful. The candles floated around. My little fish came rushing over thinking we had thrown bread for them. I thought it was visually poetic. Looking at the candles touched me. I did not expect the ceremony to be as lovely as it was. The images don’t die in my head. They continue to replay. It was a lovely way to say a final goodbye.
Sometimes when I think about my mother’s ceremonies, I think we changed tradition. We did not hold a long wake. I hate that lying-in-state business with people staring at you for three days and your family spending so much on food for your relatives and friends. We did not have that. We had a Mass followed by cremation, then I took her home where I set up a place for her on my terrace. I put a green batik cloth on my terrace table, decorated it with angels, butterflies and candles and every day I would pray for her alone or with others. Then on the 9th day we had a lovely memorial service for her followed by merienda. After that, I brought her home again and the next day we buried her at the St. James columbarium in Alabang, where she could be closer to my children.
On the 40th day, we didn’t give any more tributes. We had given them at the memorial service. Instead we whispered love and prayers and lit floating candles. This break with tradition made us all very happy. Feelings were intact. There was no question that we loved her and missed her but we were not as showy as tradition required. It was a marvelous 40th day.
