Light of the World

Percy called me long distance multiple times this weekend. The cellphone amplified the unseen-- tissues wadded, reddened whites of her eyes, and a heart turned blue with grief. 

My sis last talked with Auntie Luz on Mother’s Day at the Medical Center. Between the monitors and tubes in a tiny basement room Percy tried to chat the gloom away as Auntie could only blink her eyes. Her topic was Auntie’s new grand baby.

Percy shared, “I told Auntie she looked just like her, "alembong.” Alembong was a Tagalog word we believed Auntie often used instead of “pretty.”

I recall Auntie Luz introduced that word to me in the sixties. Since Mom did not drive Auntie often drove me and my sisters to Disney movies. In 1965 she brought us to a non-animated masterpiece, my first “grownup movie,” a love story during the dire 1930s Austrian-German Anschluss. I sighed dreamy as a nun flirtatiously sang her way into the heart of a Captain with seven children.

En route to the theatre my feet vibrated to the chug of the engine in Auntie’s baby blue Beetle Bug. In my mind the traffic light blinked red as Auntie’s left hand and right elbow rested on the steering wheel. Her right hand clutched a metallic tong that squeezed white rubber pads onto her painted lashes.

I asked, “Why are you doing that?”

Her deep brown eyes twinkled over apple cheeks, a button nose, and a full mouth painted pink. “Cincha,” she replied, “I do this so I can be alembong.” She added her signature chuckle that often completed her coquette statements like a period.

Luz is Spanish for “light.” Auntie’s light humor with sparkling chuckles blessed the family at the many dinner gatherings she and Uncle Floro hosted. Our humongous extended family never left hungry. Sometimes we sang old songs. Other times music moved couples to sway and dip. All times the family chatted in trilingual rhythms.

In January Buddy, MBH and I visited Auntie Luz in her kitchen nook. A beaded rosary wrapped about her arm and Catholic prayer cards splayed around the plate of rice noodles she nibbled. She declared she was too “tabatso” and chuckled. Beside her stood her thin and sole caregiver husband who daily carried her a half flight down from their bedroom.

As we held hands to pray and tear up, Heaven’s Father hugged us.

On a Saturday afternoon in a sunlit large hospital suite Heaven’s Father hugged Auntie Luz. My pretty aunt no longer was alembong or a flirt on earth. By faith she IS cancer free in the presence of her namesake, the Light of the World, Jesus. Angels giggle in joy over her teasing, her laughter. Someday the rest of the family will join in those giggles in a humongous reunion. 

Do you believe?

When Jesus spoke again to the people, 

he said, "I am the light of the world. 

Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, 

but will have the light of life."--John 8:12