Monday, July 16, 2007

"Apo, bakla cu"

::Saturday, July 14, Brunch Time::

The morning was gloomy then and I had a long good night respite from my humble beddings. My mind was dry from all the past week's overwhelming encounters and thoughts - it's imperative to have a hefty break. My breakfast was my lunch and my lunch was my breakfast. I took quite a longer than usual bath to renew myself from the taxing remnants of a mind-boggling week. And then I went to my unprecedented revelation.

My "Apo" (that's what I call my grandparents) was playing cards on her usual siesta time. I approached her and jumpstarted a seemingly atypical conversation ('Twas my first time to have such a talk with her).

Our tête-à-tête went from talking about my parents, how they’d been, how they’d handled us, their children. I was surprised actually then, that my Apo was hiding some thoughts about me as a child of my parents, and how I got along pretty well with what had happened in the yore – that despite my parents’ emotional unattachment (especially with my mother) to us, their children, we were very accepting and considerate. (To tell you the truth, I have never opened up any problems to my parents [except maybe for some temporal ones]. They are not the expressive type. It’s just lately that I try to be the one who starts talking just to motivate them.) Several topics regarding me and my family went in, segueing from one to another; then I felt like crying for some sentimental reasons. I wasn’t nervous then as I was, surprisingly, very comfortable with my Apo, despite my prior wariness for her being a "sagrada Catolica" (conservative Catholic), thinking my revelation might set her aback in dismay, or something to that effect. She was very commiserating as I talked, rubbing her palm on my back. She felt that I was burdened and asked me to let out whatever it was that was bothering me. Hugging her once in a while helped me muster the courage to actually speak out. With extreme care and boldness, I averred, “Apo, bakla cu” (“Grandma, I’m gay”).

Then she hugged me, and hugged her in return. My Apo was so comforting and affectionate. Without a hint of abhorrence, I felt her sincere acceptance. She said, “Baka yan ing caburyan na ning Guinu queca” (“Maybe that’s what God planned for you”).

I have loved my Apo since I was a child. And now… now that I share my true self with her, I love her even more! Thanks Apu! Caluguran da cang tune!

2 comments:

Dan Gabriel said...

I used to feel the same way about my parents, actually my whole family. But it came to me that I might as well make the first move if they won't. After all, they've always known that I was the gutsy one in the family. I'm still trying to "reconnect" to them, so that someday I will be able to tell them stories about my life as a gay man.

I applaud you for your courage to tell your Apo. It feels great to willingly tell someone that you are gay.

Drake said...

Thanks Dan. My next agenda is to tell my parents. I was about to do it actually last weekend but the timing wasn't optimal.