Lola Cela

She is the mother of my father. The queen of my grand father. My lola.

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been that close to her since I am the least outspoken grandchild in the family, I suppose.

All I can remember is that she had this pair of slippers filled with colorful beads as design and when I was like 8 years old, I always imagined a pair of scissors running through the nylons in that footwear and me collecting the beads that fell over. I always fancied that slipper before. I just don’t know where it was now.

There was also a time when. I can also remember the

Yes, I’ve been thinking of words to say. Of things that will make me look like I’ve spent my life happily with my grandmother. But all I can remember is a pair of slippers.

I’m sorry for neglecting the times to spend with you. I’m sorry for not treasuring the memories that we had. I’m sorry because all I can say now is, SORRY.

When I know that you are doing all you can to make us happy with whatever you can give whenever you visit us, I ignored it. I just wanted the money that you will give me when you are in our house.

There are times when things get rough and serious problems get into our family’s way, all i think about is that I have the stupidest father in the world.

Maybe I’ve never been good enough for a grand daughter but I only want to tell you, wherever you are  lola, that I LOVE YOU. From the most bottom of my heart. I love you.

I know it is very late. And I will forever regret not doing the things that I should do when you are still alive. I know this is not enough  to take the sadness away and that I cannot bring back the past. All I can do is pray and write a blog.

Rest in peace, La.