50 Days to 50 - Day 8

 

Sep 18 - Day 8 to 50

Eufracio Belleza Linco is the only child of my Lola Peling and Lolo Bino.  Sadly, lolo Bino died when Tatay Pacing was but an infant so he was raised by his stepfather, Lolo Perfecto Enrile whom we all know as Lolo Pecto.  Pacing, being an only child was rather spoiled.  He studied at Silliman University and was a Math’s teacher.  He was an absentee father to all his children but to me, he was a very present grandfather.  When I was three, my Nanay Concing and Tatay Pacing took me to live with them in a farm in Iloilo.  There they looked like an old couple who married late and had me.  I was like their child.  He would come home from his job as a foreman of the farm and play with me.  He’d quiz me about my alphabets, numbers and the twelve apostles’s names in The Last Supper poster by our dining table.  He’d give me tummy raspberries which made me scream and laugh with glee.  When we lived in Cebu, he’d visit us regularly reporting to my dad the state of the Villaruel’s farm in Mohon.  Tatay Pacing was foreman of that farm then.  When he’s in Cebu, he’d sit on this rocking chair and sleep in the afternoon.  I’d sit on his lap and my tasks were to remove the white hairs on his head and clear the white heads off his enormous nose.  Yes, a bit yucky but each white hair was 25 centavos and the nose cleaning was a whopping 2 pesos!  Everytime he’d visit us, he’d have pasalubong (gifts) for everyone and for me, it was always a special chocolate bar, Mars, which was imported and quite expensive at that time.  I guess since I was his only granddaughter, I had a special spot in his heart.  My brothers were also rowdy troublemakers at this time and they usually got punished for escaping afternoon naps to go out and play.

Tatay died from a stroke travelling by boat from Manila to Bacolod.  He was only 63 years old.  The ship rushed to Bago, the port where it is to dock but it was too late.  He already passed still clutching the huge MY San biscuit tin which was his pasalubong for his mother, Lola Peling.  They had to pryi it off his dead hands.  We arrived by plane at Bago hospital but he was gone.  During his burial, was the first time I met my biological father…that I could remember.  He came to pay his last respects, telling my mom how sorry he was.  Then he went to me and we stared at one another…sizing each other up.  I was about 9 years old then and was in the 3^rd grade.  He touched my cheek and walked away. 

The last night of Tatay Pacing’s wake, his portrait by the wall was wet, like he was crying.  Blame was thrown around that he died because we made him eat humba, a pork dish which was his favorite.  Drama ensued but was suddenly hushed out of respect for the dead.  It was strange that Tatay, on the day he left Cebu for Bacolod, he woke everyone up to say goodbye.  Like he knew he was leaving for good.  Even us kids, whom he would usually not bother to wake as it is still very early, he woke us up and hugged and kissed us saying goodbye in a really jolly way.

He has had two strokes prior to this last one, both he survived unscathed.  It seems like 3^rd one’s the charm for him.  He died in 1983, and was outlived by his mother who passed away in 1994.