My first awareness of death came in 1989. I was only eight years old. We lived in Davao del Sur, where my paternal grandparents were our neighbors. Lola Marcelina was my paternal grandmother. Before the opening of classes, my parents decided to send me to my maternal grandparents’ home in Davao del Norte so that I could transfer to another school. Before leaving, they brought me to her room. I did not fully understand what “sickness” or “old age” meant, but I felt the sadness in the air—thick, quiet, and unspoken.
