By: Telly Gonzaga-Ocampo
Grandmothers’ pride
I have stopped viewing the television regarding the impeachment, specifically that one of the committee on justice presided over by Congresswoman Luistro. It is already very nauseating. Now, I enjoy more the small get-together moments among friends than all those blah blah blah blah on television. One of our joyful topics among our groups is the pride we take on the achievements of our grandchildren, no matter how little.
It is a fact that we become focused on our grandchildren during our retirement years. We have more time for them compared to the times we spent with our children. Those were the times divided between our work building a family and our responsibility for their future.
Facing the different calamities we have, man-made and acts of God, my friend, Gemma Prosianos Abarcar handed to me a copy of his grandson’s narrative of the Linog of 2013. His grandson, Diego Abarcar Calugay, is now 21 years old finishing his degree in College in Maryland, USA.
Creative writing was not part of our Business Course curriculum while I was in college. How I wish we had.
Anyway, this grandson of Gemma Prosianos Abarcar has this talent of writing. Though born in the United States, he has the soul of a Filipino. With Filipino parents and grandparents, he still embraces the culture of his roots visiting the Philippines every now and then when time permits. His grandparents spend half of the year in the country. Diego wrote about the experience of her grandmother in the earthquake of 2015.
Below is one paragraph of the narrative he shared with me as extracted from their school requirement in Creative Writing, which struck me the most.
“However, like a mattress a hill can be shared. Almost no one knew who slept beside them. Nevertheless, everyone knew that to share was to keep the community alive.They shared tilapia from the dried up pond in Tita inday’s backyard. They charged each other’s phones. They mourned together when the stories of the lives lost came to light. Gemma made more hasty trips back into the house to retrieve the remaining fridge, not just for herself but everyone there. When water began to run low, she would travel to Tagbilaran area by boat to fill up all the water dispensers that the villagers had given her. Of course, frantic shouts of linog still filled the air when the aftershocks started. Nights were still pitch black with no electricity to power the lamps and street lights. Damaged infrastructure still prevented travel to and from the island. Outside help still seemed non existent. But the inside help was enough.”
This is how I go away from the drama of the impeachment – to read and reread the narrative of Diego on the Linog. And the memories of those fateful days were relived including the feelings of pain which until now still remain the same. And today, April 2026, the world is in disarray caused by both natural and manmade calamities. Here’s praying for 2026 to be over and a silver lining for 2027.
Left to right Diego, the parents of Diego and his brother, Rene and Gemma Abarcar, the grandparents of Diego.