Remembering Innocencio Tamang

I must say, he is rocking some preppy trend in this photo. Poloneck + Chinos = Effortless.

He was everything you could ever expect of a family man. He was handsome, loving, caring to his children and grandchildren, tough when he needed to be, strong when he had to be, vulnerable when he wanted to be. His name was Innocencio Tamang, and he was...still is, my beloved grandfather.
Today we celebrate the first year anniversary of his death. Though celebration is probably the last thing you can associate with death, with him, it's always the first thing that comes to mind. For starters, it has been a year since he was finally reunited with my grandmother Evelina, his sweetheart. After she died from a stroke that took all of us by surprise, he never really fully recovered. Imagine a pair of turtle doves. That's what they were like. So when we got the phonecall, the first thing I thought was 'Finally, he's not sad anymore'. He probably wasn't as sad about being single as I think he may have been, especially since he had twenty-four grandchildren who kept him occupied. But the two of them were so much better together than apart, that I can't help but feel like all that time since she passed, he's been thinking, "I'll be there soon."

I kept looking for a solo photo of him through all the family photos we have at home, but unfortunately I didn't find many to choose from. In fact, I only found two. The rest were always either with Nanay, or the rest of the family. That just goes to show how much of a family man he is I suppose. He can't, or didn't want to be anywhere without his children because he loved them all to the brim. I don't want to say that he played favourites with his kids or grandkids because he didn't, but out of all of us, both he and my grandma raised me, my sister Mae and my brother James. They were both parents to us, especially since my own parents had to work abroad, so as hard as it may have been for the family, it was definitely more painful for me and my siblings when he passed. The hardest part of it all was that I couldn't fly out. My Mum and James managed to fly out and arrive there, just a couple of hours before he gave away. When Nanay passed, it was Mum and my sister. I never had to experience these losses first hand, and until now I've not decided on how I feel about it. On the one hand, I feel like I was better off here in England because I am incapable of handling emotions appropriately and I probably would not have been of much use. On the other, I feel left out in that, despite the circumstances, there was the comfort and joy in having the family all together, celebrating the life of the two most important people in our lives. So I don't know. I didn't even cry. Not because I didn't want to, or because I didn't care. I couldn't. Believe me I tried, but however much I wanted to, my tears had run dry a long time ago. But he knew how much I loved him. They both did. I think that was all I could ever wish for. 

So I left a candle burning all day today. Wherever he is, together with his beloved, I hope that he is at peace. I pray that they both still watch over us, and that they keep watching over us until the day we hop on the bus and join them. I don't really believe in heaven or hell, but whatever place our souls go to after a lifetime on Earth, I sure hope that it is nice and beautiful and that they will be there waiting with a plate of Nanay's leche flan and a nice warm hug. 

We miss you Tatay! We love you so much.
xoxo