Personal Tribute to Candida Agcaoili

My maternal grandmother, Candida Agcaoili, finally found her peace on May 3, 2007. She was 97. The sweet old gal almost made it 100 years. I can remember how excited I was to first meet her when she first arrived here from the Philippines in 1975 or 76; I'm not sure. She was a petite yet hardy woman who took care of me while my parents worked. Hell, she took care of most of my cousins while my aunts and uncles worked. If she wasn't doing that, she was either cleaning the house, tending to the garden, anything to make herself useful to the household.

It was wonderful to see her socialize with the other matriarchs of the family. They would reminisce about times back on the island, both good and bad, complaining about their particular ailments, and gossiping (in Ilocano, a dialect in the Philippines, it's called chismis) about relatives back at home. They had a their own wonderful sounds of laughter and gasping that is indescribable. One had to be there!

My most fond memory of her is when she made coconut oil. It was not for cooking, but for medicinal purposes. It's fragrant smell would fill the entire house. In 2000, I was taking a Filipino American Literature class at San Francisco State University. One of our assignments was to remember of taste, smell, sight, or sound from your earliest childhood memory and wrote a poem about it. I will share that poem with you all in my next post later today.

The most beautiful feature my grandma had was her hair. It was long and flowing. Her hair reached down to the lowest part of her back. It was wonderful to watch her comb, oil, and put it in a bun. After each bath, she would allow her hair to air dry. Once it was dry, she would sit in the corner of her room, usually near a heater vent, take her narrow comb, which doubles as a hair piece, and begin combing her locks of black and gray hair. She would start from the bottom and slowly work her way up toward her scalp, making sure to rid the tangles and rough spots on the way. Afterwards, she would massage coconut oil to the ends and all over her hair and scalp. And in an instant, she'd twist her hair, knot it and roll it in a bun and place the ornamental comb in her hair to hold the bun down. It gave me joy to see her do that. It was a daily regime that I'm sure she has done for years and years.

She was always glad to see her grandkids come home, either from school or work. Asked about our daily events, and then the usual Filipino thing, ask us what we wanted to eat. If you don't understand Filipino Culture, food = love. Relatives are constantly cooking to show their love and affection. Whenever you enter a Filipino home, it's always a greeting followed by "have you eaten?' It's a miracle that I'm not overweight!

Unfortunately, for the last couple of years, she suffered from dementia, so she wasn't herself. Her mind reverted back to a simpler time back in the Philippines. I guess dementia does that to a person. She would sit in her chair or lay in her bed and constantly sweeping or scrubbing herself or something and complaining of all the dust that was around her. My mom shared with me that back in Philippines, they lived in a simple house which was open aired and dusty a lot. Grandma would constantly sweep to keep the house clean and dust free. This would explain to me why she constantly used the static rug cleaner all over the house where I grew up! Anyway, her scratching and scrubbing had gotten so bad that we had to cut grandma's magnificent flowing long hair. That was the last piece of her character that disappeared. From that point on, she was no longer Candida Agcaoili. She was merely just a shell waiting to be taken away.

I'm glad to hear that she died in her sleep at home. She wasn't in a care facility or hospital. She was able to rest with her family and love constantly around her. She was a wonderful woman. And I will miss her.