Five years.

It's refreshing how benign we are this week. We've had our last exam for the year, as well as our last dissection ever, most likely. My Y!M status (yes, I'm online!) even reads "benign." So I was able to go to mass at lunchtime today, for the first time this semester.

As I was praying after receving holy communion, I remembered Ninang Annette's post on Facebook a couple of days ago. It was about Lolo Willie, and that it's been five years since his death. And then I started crying. I couldn't believe how long it's been. In that span of time, a medical student would have already graduated and become a licensed physician. An infant would have reached kindergarten.

In those silent moments of prayer, thoughts of Lolo Willie came rushing. Like how, when we were kids, we cousins would race to his bedroom to ask for goodies. And we'd never leave empty-handed. Lolo would rummage through his cabinet for whatever he could find--choco mallows, choco crunchies, and I can't forget the favorite, rosquillos.

Lolo Willie was so quirky. Whenever Lola Adeling would ask him "Ano gusto mo kainin?" his standard answer was always "pwet ng manok." Always. Pwet ng manok this, pwet ng manok that. I think he just liked the sound of the words, and perhaps because it made us all laugh. He also liked to slap my cheek from time to time. And it wasn't a gentle smack or anything. Sampal talaga. Lola would scold him, but I never minded. I knew it was his way of being affectionate, even if it did hurt a bit. And whenever he would ask Tita Tonette to make his afternoon cup of coffee, he would ask "Asan na ang cafe ko?" Cafe, not coffee or kape. No one can say it quite the same way.

Written on Lolo Willie's grave are the words He taught us how to love. How true those words are. For Lolo was the kindest, sweetest, most unassuming man. He was incredibly appreciative of the littlest things. As he got older, it would take less and less for him to shed tears. He would cry when one of us, his apos, received an award in school. He'd cry when Papa would give him a shirt or a pair of shoes that no longer fit. Things like that. How can you not but love and appreciate such a person.

I remember the night before he died. Hooked up to the IV and groggy, he still knew who we were. I remember holding his hand and asking "Lolo, sino ako?" And he looked into my eyes, a smile spreading across his lined face, and said softly, "Pretty girl." Only he ever called me that. And no one can say it quite the same way.

I miss Lolo Willie so much. As I prayed in the chapel today, only one thing made me smile again--the knowledge that he is in a happier place. But always, always looking after us all.

Happy Easter anniversary, Lolo Willie. Happy birthday and Merry Christmas as well. We love you. :)