Graveyard love

Sob stories are sometimes turned into happy tales. When you’re not expecting it, the creases of sadness on your face are ironed out and you find the reason to smile again because you find joy in the most unexpected place. For some people, they find the silver lining in a place where the “silent majority rules.” In the cemetery.

It was almost Christmas when Esther, a teacher who is now in her forties, lost her husband Fred in 1998. Every single day, she would visit her husband’s tomb and whisper her love to him. Their two young children, who would many times accompany their mother to the cemetery, were witnesses to the undying love their mother had for their father. It helped that the memorial park was just a jeepney ride away from their house.

It was a stormy day in July 2003 when Nestor, a factory worker in his forties now, lost his wife Linda. Every single day, he would visit his wife at the cemetery and confide to her the longing of his heart. Their two young kids, who would accompany their father to the memorial park, were Nestor’s source of strength to carry on. It helped that the cemetery was just a tricycle ride away from their barrio.

On some weekends, Nestor and Esther would see each other at the cemetery. Their eyes would inevitably meet because the tombs of their loved ones were almost exactly opposite each other, separated only by the well-manicured grass.

In the beginning, at least for more than a year after the death of Nestor’s wife, he and Esther kept a friendly conversation. Esther would borrow a match from Nestor to light the candles on top her husband’s tomb. On some occasions, the withered flowers on Fred’s grave would be replaced by fresh flowers. Nestor would claim responsibility for the floral change, saying that he brought more than enough to put on his beloved wife’s tomb.

From a simple thank you from Esther, the two found no reason why they should not be close to each other.

Soon, in the land of the dead, Esther and Nestor found love. In 2005, they decided to celebrate this love under one roof with all their children — including the two boys of their own.

And they still don’t forget to visit the cemetery to offer prayers for their respective dearly departed.

***

At 57, Lorena, a lanky woman with her ubiquitous bob, had accepted she would remain single all her life. In fact, she had this macabre humor that one day she would die alone and would just be discovered being eaten by her cats at home.

She had previous relationships when she was younger but all fizzled out. When she hit her forties, she decided she was not the marrying type and devoted her life serving her mama and papa.

Lorena, an only child who used to be an OFW in Dubai, decided to stay in the Philippines after the death of her parents almost one year apart of each other. She had moments of loneliness. Alone. Orphan. Her life was a perfect pitch for a Pinoy telenovela.

Long before her savings would dry up, she entered into an odd job as a cemetery manager. Her prime concern was to oversee that the sepultureros (gravediggers) were doing their jobs well and that the bereaved would pay first the necessary fees before the interment of their loved ones.

One soggy day, a 45-year-old stocky man wearing a dripping blue raincoat entered her office. The man was pleading if he could have his wife buried on a set date even if the memorial lot was not yet fully paid. Lorena did not agree in a heartbeat but later on took pity on the man and placed a long distance call to the owner of the memorial park to give in to the request of the man.

From the time the man buried his wife, he never failed to visit her grave. And every time, he would pay in installment the balance left for the memorial lot. After a year, he finally settled his balance and expressed his gratitude to Lorena by giving her rice cake.

They both ate the rice cake that afternoon. Lorena served instant coffee to the man, whose name she only took notice of that time — Nap. In an instant, a friendship developed between the two.

It did not take long after that merienda scene for Lorena to realize that she would not die alone.

(E-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com. I’m also on Twitter @bum_tenorio and Instagram @bum_tenorio. Have a blessed Sunday!)