last Saturday, I went caroling with some of my researchmates. Actually we went to four homes only, and two of these were my groupmates’ (the other home we visited was that of a groupmate’s relative) and what we did was technically not “caroling”— for the first part, we danced— or more accurately, made silly movements—to the tune of “Kumukutikutitap.” Actually we originally planned to sing, and then we decided to put some actions. When we finally finished the choreography, we realized that singing and dancing simultaneously was beyond what our powers and meager practice time (i.e. 30 minutes) can handle, and so we decided to just “dance.” Anyways, we have a very impressive singer in our group who can salvage our dignity afterwards. (by the way, one of my groupmates even made yellow crowns for us…haha)
The first home we visited was that which had no relation to any of my groupmates (and thus the scariest). The family was very accommodating — imagine, they were kind enough not to laugh at our faces even if we ourselves knew how absurd we looked like! (Actually in our performance here we attempted to sing and dance, but there were parts wherein we forgot the lyrics…so so embarrassing!) Mr. Castañeda, the lolo of the house, was exceptionally warm and jolly— he even threw a joke before we started, perhaps to make us feel at home. When my groupmate was delivering his solo rendition of “A Christmas song,” Lolo Castañeda was also singing softly, with eyes closed— a sight that melted my heart. Before we left, he played a little game with us (he made us think of a number, multiply it to another number, and then divide it with a third, and then said he would guess it. And then he wrote something on a piece of paper and asked someone to read it— “correct” was written on the paper) and was so elated that he was able to trick all of us. After we left, a thought crossed my mind-- I would like to visit him again and just surprise him and sing more songs for him. He is the type of person who is not difficult to love.
The other homes were also very kind to us, and our night was filled with laughter (and all sorts of sweets) When it was finally over, all of us, though extremely exhausted (because we did some research work before we went caroling), agreed that we would like to do it again next year- in fact, every year- as a sort of tradition.
The next day, my groupmate texted to inform me that Mr.Castañeda had died that afternoon. It sounded like a big cruel joke…he seemed so healthy when we were at their house…but it was for real. I was so stunned at the idea that we were probably one of the last people he has shook hands with in his lifetime. At least, I comforted myself, we were able to make him happy on his last night.
The weird thing was, my groupmates and I were talking about death a few hours before we went caroling. I was sharing to them an incident at my uncle’s wake a few years ago— my cousins were playing cards inside the room designated for the bereaved family, when a flower landed on the shoulder of my niece, who was sitting farthest from the door (and thus farthest from the flowers that were beside the coffin). While we were talking, something bright red flew in our midst— it turned out to be a petal. We do not know where it came from since we were inside an air-conditioned room.
While we were practicing for our performance, my classmate’s mom and helper told us to hurry up because Mr. Castañeda was anticipating our visit, and that he just came from a dialysis so he needed to rest early.
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a painful fact that occurred to me because of this incident: death is unstoppable. even during the Christmas season. while the whole world is celebrating, some people are grieving. And there’s really nothing we can do about it.
On second thought, there is something I can do— share to the living the Gift that God has offered for them. That way, dying wouldn’t have to be the end of everything, but the beginning of eternal bliss.