Tia Onor's legacy:
A woman's faith and determination
A woman's faith and determination
By Heidi M. Pascual
Tia Onor is my father's older (and only surviving) sister. At 84, she clings to dear life without really knowing
it, as Alzheimer's slowly takes over whatever is left of her memory. She no longer recognizes people, but she
remembers some names: Heidi, Nancy, Lily, Boy, and Edwin — her brother’s five children who he deserted
long time ago to fend for themselves.
Back then, Tia Onor was in her prime. Despite her lack of formal education, she managed to become a
successful entrepreneur in Manila, armed only with an adventurous spirit and a work ethic that many
educated people lack. From selling bananas at street markets on commissions, she "graduated" into
becoming a grocery-store owner in a wet market in Sampaloc, Manila. She became the godmother of many
of her poor relatives. Without knowing what philanthropy was all about, she actually practiced it like a religion.
Tia Onor took over many of my father's responsibilities by supporting his family, mostly financially, since my
mother's income as a public school teacher was grossly inadequate to raise five kids. As the eldest of the
children, I was the errand girl to Manila whenever necessary, such as when medical problems struck or when it
was the beginning of the school year. She would even buy new clothes and shoes for me and my siblings for
school programs or competitions. Tia Onor was always there for us. "This is for my brother," she would say. "I
hope you remember to forgive him."
Her home was a boarding house for her other nieces and nephews who went to college in Manila. Many of
them were her "scholars," who graduated and later found good jobs and started their own families. Tia Onor
never married. I always thought she was too focused on her business and raising others' children that she had
no time for herself.
Her "own" time, as I had observed for many years, was her worship day every Sunday at the Bethel Temple,
with small versions of it every single day. "Everyday, pray to God and say, 'Jesus, thank you for this day. Make
me Your messenger through my word and action,'" she'd tell me whenever I got the chance to visit her in
Manila.
When my mother left in 1968 for the U.S., Tia Onor became my youngest sister Nancy's "mother." My two
brothers, Rick (Boy) and Edwin (Ed) stayed with another aunt in the province of Laguna, while my other sister,
Lib (Lily) was left with Dada Juling (Tia Onor's other sister) in Makati. I was in my first-year college at UP-Los
Banos and stayed in a boarding house on campus. While my two brothers repeatedly complained about being
maltreated by our "other" aunt and her husband, my sisters felt the opposite, particularly Nancy, who was very
loved and cared for. She was sent to one of the best schools in Manila and had her own "yaya" (nursemaid)
looking out for her every move. Tia Onor would leave her store once or twice during the day just to check up
on my sister's needs. Nancy was, and still is, Tia Onor's favorite.
My brothers were lucky to follow my mom to the U.S. in 1971. Tia Onor took care of their pre-departure
needs and plane fares, just as she did three years before for my mother. In 1976, it was my two younger sisters'
turn to join my mother and brothers in Chicago. With tears in her eyes, Tia Onor let Nancy "go," reminding her
at the airport, "If you want to come back, I will always be here for you; I will send you to college, at a Medical
School, so you'd be a doctor."
Her natural philanthropic heart never stopped even after my siblings were gone. Tia Onor continued to
help people, especially those who came from her barrio. I left school for a while, started a family, and joined
the ranks of squatter families in Caloocan City. Tia Onor remained my anchor; never letting me down,
constantly urging me to go back to school, saying in an exasperated tone, "Don't waste that brain!" I listened
and I did what she wanted me to do — "excel in school and be somebody."
As the years went by, her strength gradually gave in, especially after she exhausted most of it taking care of
her sister, Dada Juling — a self-appointed "job" that she did not take for granted. Tia Onor gave up her
business, entrusting it to a long-time family friend who later took it as her own. Tia Onor wasn't even bitter
about it. When I asked her about why she let this person take over her business, she just said, "Let her be; she
needed it because she's helping her relatives, too. I have no one else to look after (Dada Juling had died by
then), and I'm too old and weak to continue."
When I left for the U.S. in the late '90s, Tia Onor had already gone back to her birthplace in Barrio
Palasan, and lived with her older sister, Tia Metiang. When the latter passed, Tia Onor's memory started to
fail, my father wrote. My father who is also now in his 80s, updates me every month about Tia Onor's
conditions and her needs, and I try my best to help both of them as much as I can.
This past New Year (Jan. 1), I was informed by a cousin that Tia Onor had a bad fall, broke one of her hips,
could no longer walk, and might need surgery. I asked my cousin to take my aunt right away to the nearest
orthopedic hospital for X-rays and a medical evaluation; and as soon as I hung up, ran to a Western Union
station. I reached out to my siblings in Chicago and Houston, and our lines were all open for the next few
days. My sister Nancy, now a research scientist in Houston, booked a flight to the Philippines as soon as she
received the news. Her emotional outburst and decisiveness told me a lot about my youngest sister. In less
than a week, Nancy accomplished a lot for Tia Onor. She immediately took care of her medical needs, filed
a legal petition for guardianship (with the help of our second cousin, Atty. Joy Cambel), started a bank
account where funds would be regularly sent from us here, and began the process of constructing a home for
Tia Onor. She also made sure that Tia Onor has a trustworthy live-in caregiver who would regularly update her
through Atty. Joy. Nancy plans to visit Tia Onor again later this year, in her new home. "We'll celebrate the
holidays with Tia Onor," Nancy tells me. "I want her to feel how it is to breathe fresh air in her own house, her
own place."
I hope Tia Onor knows that she is very loved. I hope she knows that some of those she had helped never
forgot and are very grateful. I hope she knows that we, her brother's children, have forgiven our father, and that
we will be there — for both of them — in their twilight years.
Thank you, Tia Onor. Your faith and determination had pulled us through. Our world would not have been
as beautiful without you.
Tia Onor is my father's older (and only surviving) sister. At 84, she clings to dear life without really knowing
it, as Alzheimer's slowly takes over whatever is left of her memory. She no longer recognizes people, but she
remembers some names: Heidi, Nancy, Lily, Boy, and Edwin — her brother’s five children who he deserted
long time ago to fend for themselves.
Back then, Tia Onor was in her prime. Despite her lack of formal education, she managed to become a
successful entrepreneur in Manila, armed only with an adventurous spirit and a work ethic that many
educated people lack. From selling bananas at street markets on commissions, she "graduated" into
becoming a grocery-store owner in a wet market in Sampaloc, Manila. She became the godmother of many
of her poor relatives. Without knowing what philanthropy was all about, she actually practiced it like a religion.
Tia Onor took over many of my father's responsibilities by supporting his family, mostly financially, since my
mother's income as a public school teacher was grossly inadequate to raise five kids. As the eldest of the
children, I was the errand girl to Manila whenever necessary, such as when medical problems struck or when it
was the beginning of the school year. She would even buy new clothes and shoes for me and my siblings for
school programs or competitions. Tia Onor was always there for us. "This is for my brother," she would say. "I
hope you remember to forgive him."
Her home was a boarding house for her other nieces and nephews who went to college in Manila. Many of
them were her "scholars," who graduated and later found good jobs and started their own families. Tia Onor
never married. I always thought she was too focused on her business and raising others' children that she had
no time for herself.
Her "own" time, as I had observed for many years, was her worship day every Sunday at the Bethel Temple,
with small versions of it every single day. "Everyday, pray to God and say, 'Jesus, thank you for this day. Make
me Your messenger through my word and action,'" she'd tell me whenever I got the chance to visit her in
Manila.
When my mother left in 1968 for the U.S., Tia Onor became my youngest sister Nancy's "mother." My two
brothers, Rick (Boy) and Edwin (Ed) stayed with another aunt in the province of Laguna, while my other sister,
Lib (Lily) was left with Dada Juling (Tia Onor's other sister) in Makati. I was in my first-year college at UP-Los
Banos and stayed in a boarding house on campus. While my two brothers repeatedly complained about being
maltreated by our "other" aunt and her husband, my sisters felt the opposite, particularly Nancy, who was very
loved and cared for. She was sent to one of the best schools in Manila and had her own "yaya" (nursemaid)
looking out for her every move. Tia Onor would leave her store once or twice during the day just to check up
on my sister's needs. Nancy was, and still is, Tia Onor's favorite.
My brothers were lucky to follow my mom to the U.S. in 1971. Tia Onor took care of their pre-departure
needs and plane fares, just as she did three years before for my mother. In 1976, it was my two younger sisters'
turn to join my mother and brothers in Chicago. With tears in her eyes, Tia Onor let Nancy "go," reminding her
at the airport, "If you want to come back, I will always be here for you; I will send you to college, at a Medical
School, so you'd be a doctor."
Her natural philanthropic heart never stopped even after my siblings were gone. Tia Onor continued to
help people, especially those who came from her barrio. I left school for a while, started a family, and joined
the ranks of squatter families in Caloocan City. Tia Onor remained my anchor; never letting me down,
constantly urging me to go back to school, saying in an exasperated tone, "Don't waste that brain!" I listened
and I did what she wanted me to do — "excel in school and be somebody."
As the years went by, her strength gradually gave in, especially after she exhausted most of it taking care of
her sister, Dada Juling — a self-appointed "job" that she did not take for granted. Tia Onor gave up her
business, entrusting it to a long-time family friend who later took it as her own. Tia Onor wasn't even bitter
about it. When I asked her about why she let this person take over her business, she just said, "Let her be; she
needed it because she's helping her relatives, too. I have no one else to look after (Dada Juling had died by
then), and I'm too old and weak to continue."
When I left for the U.S. in the late '90s, Tia Onor had already gone back to her birthplace in Barrio
Palasan, and lived with her older sister, Tia Metiang. When the latter passed, Tia Onor's memory started to
fail, my father wrote. My father who is also now in his 80s, updates me every month about Tia Onor's
conditions and her needs, and I try my best to help both of them as much as I can.
This past New Year (Jan. 1), I was informed by a cousin that Tia Onor had a bad fall, broke one of her hips,
could no longer walk, and might need surgery. I asked my cousin to take my aunt right away to the nearest
orthopedic hospital for X-rays and a medical evaluation; and as soon as I hung up, ran to a Western Union
station. I reached out to my siblings in Chicago and Houston, and our lines were all open for the next few
days. My sister Nancy, now a research scientist in Houston, booked a flight to the Philippines as soon as she
received the news. Her emotional outburst and decisiveness told me a lot about my youngest sister. In less
than a week, Nancy accomplished a lot for Tia Onor. She immediately took care of her medical needs, filed
a legal petition for guardianship (with the help of our second cousin, Atty. Joy Cambel), started a bank
account where funds would be regularly sent from us here, and began the process of constructing a home for
Tia Onor. She also made sure that Tia Onor has a trustworthy live-in caregiver who would regularly update her
through Atty. Joy. Nancy plans to visit Tia Onor again later this year, in her new home. "We'll celebrate the
holidays with Tia Onor," Nancy tells me. "I want her to feel how it is to breathe fresh air in her own house, her
own place."
I hope Tia Onor knows that she is very loved. I hope she knows that some of those she had helped never
forgot and are very grateful. I hope she knows that we, her brother's children, have forgiven our father, and that
we will be there — for both of them — in their twilight years.
Thank you, Tia Onor. Your faith and determination had pulled us through. Our world would not have been
as beautiful without you.
| Faith, Strength, and Love (For Mama Onor) It seems like yesterday when it rained so hard, it hurt like hail when it hits your face. It was a part of a world so long ago but it was like yesterday. Mama carried me on her shoulder while we made the trek from town to our barrio through the storm. Her knees were deep in the water, the rain created a flood, so common in this part of southern Luzon, Philippines. I’m not so sure where the memories began or end, how far I’ve traveled since, but the memories of that particular evening was very clear. She and I have traveled from the city, a crowded city where she worked and her niece in tow. She never left without me and I never asked “where is my family?” In time, I am full of fond memories of Mama Onor, thankful she had saved me, she seems to always save me from the ‘flood’ and now the chaos of life. There is peacefulness in the shoulder of faith, the strength of unrelentless love and care. She still lives today, in Barrio Palasan, bedridden, with healed fractured hip and Alzheimer’s disease. Her soul, however, is a breath of purity and lives like a child of innocence untouched by the daily weight of human existence. If I were to hope my life to move on in the path of righteousness, clarity and integrity, Mama Onor will be right beside me. She is still always with me. — Nancy |
(Counterclockwise from the top left) Tia Onor’s smile hasn’t
waned (March 2006 photo); (l-r) Nancy, Tia, cousin Diana, Atty.
Joy, my father Mario (Jan. 2008); (l-r) myself, Tia Onor, my
father (March 2006)
waned (March 2006 photo); (l-r) Nancy, Tia, cousin Diana, Atty.
Joy, my father Mario (Jan. 2008); (l-r) myself, Tia Onor, my
father (March 2006)