WE buried Aunt Rita today. She was 77 years old.
With only three surviving siblings now, including my mother who is 85 years old, Aunt Rita - so serene and peaceful in her coffin - was surrounded by her nephews, nieces and grandchildren at the funeral service. She had no children of her own. She was, for her whole life, unmarried.

A framed picture stood atop the viewing glass of her coffin. In that picture, she was sporting her trademark smile - a mark of her jolly old self that was ever bursting with sense of humor which never failed to amuse us, even in times of strife. She humored about almost everything….she humored even her condition on her dying days - that, if given only P200 budget in a day to spend for food and other necessities, what would she buy? She said she would first buy her adult diapers. And then… the ring of her undying laughter…
I told myself before going to the service that I would not be emotional. But still, I couldn’t help it. In the mass, when everyone sang The Lord’s Prayer with the choir, I could see very vividly in my mind - my dear Aunt Rita - smiling so beautifully and happily while some unexplainably bright beam of light was lifting her, transcending her into a life not known by anyone of us who are still living here. And the tears trickled down…
She was childless, yet she had so many children. She was a surrogate mother to all her nephews and nieces. Her words had wisdom. Her touch healed. Her intelligence, despite her unfinished schooling, was remarkable. Her being was inspiring.

Every Christmas day, she, together with her younger sister, Aunt Sylvia, would gather children from poor families in the neighborhood. She fed, gave them small presents and made them showcase whatever talents they had through song or dance numbers. I was happy looking at the lifeless form of my dear auntie - that somehow, she would be immortalized in the hearts and minds of those children whose lives she had touched even in such a small way.

Adieu, Aunt Rita. You lived your life and deserved this repose.