Candle in the Wind

A lovely photo of my aunt, Cornelia Sebastian, taken when she was just in her forties

A dear aunt of mine passed away on Thursday last week.

I was in Chiang Mai when my first cousin, her son Bobby who lives in the southern part of the Philippines, sent me the text message informing me that his mother, whom my sister and I fondly call Tia Une, breathed her last.

She was 96 years old.



It must have been some thirty six years ago when Tia Une and her daughter Linda, son-in-law Bobby, and four young grandchildren migrated to the USA. I was twenty years old, a university freshman.

My father loved her and her family dearly.

A few years later, his other sister, their youngest, Esther, also migrated to Canada with her two sons Fred and Noly, and their families.

With the departure of my aunts, cousins, nephews and nieces to a far away land, a large part of our hearts went with them.

My father was the only son of their parents, and he grew up with five doting sisters, but when I was born, the other two sisters had already passed away. Only three of the sisters were alive, Tia Vita, Tia Une, and Tia Esther.

I do not know much of their family history. I only know that my grandfather died when my dad was still very young. My grandmother was of Spanish ancestry and came from a family that belonged to the Ilustrado class. Their ancestral home in Pagsanjan, Laguna, a province in southern Luzon, was built during the Spanish era of our nation's history - it was large, spacious, and had lovely furniture that speak of their level in society. In the garden fronting the house was a large garden with many fruit bearing trees.

It is in this setting that my father and his sisters were raised by my grandmother, Lola Feliza. They were gentle, mild mannered, and well educated. They had a good upbringing.

My father was a man of few words. He never said much to us about how he felt, but I can only imagine how much he must have missed his sisters.

Especially my Tia Une.

My father and his sisters had a very loving relationship with one another. In all my growing up years, I never heard them speak unkindly or harshly to one another.

But Papa shared a special relationship with Tia Une because they were born only three years part. He was born in January 1911, Tia Une was born in November 1913.

I have missed my father's family all these years. Because my sister and I were the youngest of all the six cousins, we do not share the same closeness that my four other cousins share with one another. We were not even ten when they were all in their teens and early twenties. Nevertheless, twenty years of my life was spent knowing and experiencing the love and kindness of my father's side of the family, and I will never forget it.

We spent many unforgettable and lovely summer vacations at the family ancestral home as a big extended family. Day in, day out, there seemed to be a never ending supply of food, lovingly prepared by my two other aunts, Tia Vita and Tia Esther.

I couldn't help but cry a flood of tears for this dear Aunt's passing away.

How I have missed her...

After she went to America, I have seen her only two more times: once, when she came back for a visit, and in 2003, when I visited her in California.

She was a loving aunt. What I remember most about her is her noble character, her regal bearing, her beauty.

As a young girl, I would always be amazed at how beautiful she looked, under any circumstance.

We would always visit Tia Une, and Tia Esther, who lived next to each other...every week it seemed.

Our birthday parties when we were young would sometimes be held at the spacious lawn in front of her beautiful house.

She would often drop by our home, a lovely woman in white, as I would recall, for Tia Une was a nurse by profession.

She was tall, and carried herself in a regal manner, even while wearing her uniform. But I also recall that she was always well dressed, for any occasion.

She had a lovely smile, and there was always a twinkle in her eyes.

When my own children were growing up how I would often wish that those days of family togetherness would return, me and my sister being doted on or teased by my older cousins, Linda, Bobby, Fred and Noly, and being hugged and kissed by my Tia Une.

My Tia Une married a pilot, Arsenio II, who unfortunately died in a plane crash when her two children were still quite small.

She never remarried, and devoted instead, the remaining years of her life to caring for her family.

When she moved to the States with her daughter Linda and her family, she became the caretaker for her grandchildren while their parents worked. She was fondly called "Lola Mama" (grandmother-mother) by all her grandchildren.

She has raised her children and grandchildren well. To this day, they all reflect the same gentle manners and good breeding.

I know she has lived with her own share of pain and sorrow, but she never showed it, or talked about it. I never saw her worried or afraid, although I know that she shared many of her private concerns to my father.

To her dying day, she never wanted to be a burden to anyone. Hers was a life of noble service, and gentle love. The word of kindness was on her lips.



As I lay weeping on my bed the evening I heard the sad news of my aunt's passing away, I kept thinking of this song, Candle in the Wind sung by Elton John at Princess Diana's funeral...

And it seems to me
You lived your life
Like a candle in the wind...
Never fading with the sunset
When the rain set in...

Loveliness we've lost
These empty days without your smile...

The truth brings us to tears
All our words cannot express
The joy you brought us
Through the years

May you ever grow in our hearts...
Who'll miss the wings of your compassion
More than you'll ever know.

I only thank God that in our sadness we are comforted by the thought that she has lived a full life, and our hearts overflow with lovely memories about her.

My Tia Une will always have a special place in my heart. I know the legacy she leaves behind will live on.

Such a beautiful life will never be forgotten, only continue to inspire the generations after her.



Below is a picture I took of the watercolor painting which hangs in the lanai sitting room of our Manila home. It shows my father's family ancestral home in Pagsanjan located on Calle Rizal, the main thoroughfare of the town. In the painting are my dad, standing outside the house, and his mother and three sisters, standing at the window.




This is a closer shot of the same painting. Tia Une is the one on the far right.



Two pictures of my aunt taken a few years ago:

With my sister when she visited Tia Une in California a few years ago

With my sister's son David, in Nevada