It was an uneventful day here in Singapore. It was, as my sister said (as she used a quote from my dad) as exciting as watching the grass grow. We took a stroll down to one of the shops to get some food to munch on. We brought along her kids, Christine and Nikki.

While having dinner, my sister told me an amazing story of a unique connection between her and a friend. I will now retell the story in my perspective with a little spice. Haha!

My sister’s name is Monique. I call her ate monique (mo’nick). She is ten years older than me. Born on the year of the Marshal law, 1972. Our parents tell us, she was this close (gesturing a tiny unidentified invisible item with their fingers in the air) to being christened Marsha. Good thing, it never happened or no one would have taken her seriously in life. The name Marsha would have been so funny, so john-and-marsha-ish. (No real problem with the classic television show, I just don’t want it)

Anyway, since she was ten years older than I am, she was old enough to take care of me. This evening she reminded me of the times she was brushing my all-brown teeth (yes, I used to have tartar for teeth. Or to put it lightly, some have milk teeth, I had chocolate teeth. Good thing all or most of my childhood pictures were wiped-out in one of the floods that submerged my childhood home in Marikina. The only evidence left is my present set of teeth. Huge, because when my first permanent incisor came out, it was the only white tooth I had. It was like a lone tree in a field of shrubs. I looked like a rabbit with only one front tooth. After a month, another tooth came out and my rabbit mouth was complete. One by one my mouth was populated. But because each grew on their own with nothing to support its growth, my teeth became crooked, skewed and wrong. I know I’m digressing, but before I get to my story let me just tell you something else in case you are wondering, my teeth were all brown because when I was a baby I was allergic to cow’s milk. I drank tea in my bottle. Nestea.)

So as my sister was brushing my teath, I mean teeth, and I was asking her to stop—because one, I hated the experience, straining my neck to look up into the light and two, because the toothpaste is just too spicy for me—she would tell me all sorts of things to make me stop complaining. One of the most effective coys she used that probably started me in the world of imagination was when she said “Oh no David. If you make me stop brushing your teeth I won’t be able to remove the germs that are right now looking at me.” I don’t know if I really believed her, but hell I was afraid. I wanted her to hurry up and brush them away! Brush them away! Brush them away, now! Please!

Occasionally, since my sister also had a life and she was not restricted to taking care of me, her friends would also visit our place. I remembered some of their names. There was Mimi, Naomi and Wendy.

By now, my sister and I moved from one course (tokwa, my favorite) to the next, spaghetti (my mother’s recipe. All meat. Real tomatoes. Basil leaves. Parmesan cheese. Yummy). It was then she remembered this story that sent me goose bumps all over.

A couple years back, my sister and my mother attended the funeral of a dear relative. Imagine the surprise she got when she saw her friend Wendy there. The deceased relative is the auntie of my mother, Auntie Eliza. Apparently, Tita Eliza is also the Grand Auntie of the husband of Wendy, whose name is Caloy.

My sister thought that was such a coincidence already. But the story only begins there. Later, my mom noticed my Lola (grandma), who is 70+ years old, fidget in her seat. She was trying to look beautiful. She was trying to pose her body so the not-so-nice parts are hidden. Later she explained that her old boyfriend was there. Haha!!!

And so the story begins. Before my lola got married to my lolo, she had a relationship with another guy, who happens to be the lolo of Caloy T0rrez, the husband of my sister’s friend Wendy. See the connection?

To help you understand the story, from now on we will just call Caloy’s Grand father, Lolo T. I presumed they loved each other from the way my Lola acted in the funeral. And I will presume also that like how all other lovers do, they cast vows and promises to the air, about how they will marry each other and start a family. But because of World War II, they got separated and they lost contact. My lola instead got married to, who else?, my lolo. And Lolo T, got married to someone else. But somehow, this two families would be attracted to each other continuously for the next 50 or so years.

Starting for example with the Tita Eliza. Tita Eliza is the sister of my Lolo (the husband of my lola, duhh). She got married to Tito Peping, the brother of the wife of Lolo T. She comes from a Vergara family. Therefore, the Vergara clan, the one in the middle, brought the two families (now clans) together for the first time to see and connect the dots.

My sister has been suspicious about Wendy’s husband Caloy. There were times Wendy would tell my sister that her husband also has a Tita Tina and a Tita Jeannie, coincidentally being the names of my mom and aunt too. So even though Lolo T and my lola never got married, some how they both named their children Tina and Jeannie. Imagine that?

My lola wanted to look pretty in the funeral. So after 50 years or so, this guy still evoked the same feelings my lola had for him (or maybe it changed already. There is something left, at least we are sure of that). And now, my sister, who is the friend of Lolo T’s grandson, visits them in their house occasionally. Little did Lolo T know that this lady who is the friend of his grandson’s wife is the granddaughter of his old love, of his old unrequited love. And as Wendy named her daughter after my sister (when usually parents name their children after siblings or aunts or uncles), she actually closed the loop. Now, it’s like my lola and lolo T still got married because they still share a family together.

Now, I’m thinking. Everyone who thought things were finished when my lola got married to my lola is wrong.

To balance things: my lolo on the other hand is a true blue gentleman. He truly loved my lola too. His story is another romantic story for another time. Suffice it to say that two gentlemen loved my lola genuinely. One gentleman had his prayers answered because God wanted to accomplish something with this gentleman’s offspring through my lola. God had different plans for lolo T. But, God did not forget his love for my lola. Even when everyone thought it was finished.

There really is such a thing as true love. And not even death could conquer it.

Now, as for me, if I could choose a love story. I don’t want one thats finished after 2 years or 5 years. Not even 10. I want 50 and up.

They say when you plant bamboo trees you just wait 6 weeks and it shoots up to 60 feet. But next season they’ll all be gone. Plant oak trees instead and you’ll have to wait 50 years before it matures and starts to bear fruit. On the fiftieth year it will bear 50 thousand acorns.

But having an Oak tree is not easy. Of the 50 thousand acorns some will be eaten by squirrels, some by birds or other animals. Only a hundred will take root. And only about 2 or 3 will mature to become Oak trees themselves.

What’s the secret? Cut up a big oak tree and you’ll see. You’ll see rings. Rings that are symbols of commitment. That’s why, in weddings or engagements, you give rings.