Tia Onor's legacy
A woman's faith and determination
A woman's faith and determination
| Heidi M. Pascual* Publisher & Editor * 2006 Journalist of the Year for the State of Wisconsin (U.S.-SBA) |
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 the University of the Philippines-Los Banos
(courtesy of my Puyat-4H full-scholarship) 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 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 to send funds. 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 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, with me, 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.
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 the University of the Philippines-Los Banos
(courtesy of my Puyat-4H full-scholarship) 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 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 to send funds. 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 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, with me, 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.”
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.”
| Tia Onor's smile hasn't waned |