Good morning. Many of you are here to honor the life of a man that you knew as a friend, a father, or a father-in-law. But to us, his 7 grandchildren, Fernando Deblois Delumpa was simply known as Lolo.
Almost 5 years ago, I spoke at my grandmother Rosalie’s funeral. Lolo was here in the second pew of the church, and afterwards, with tears welling up in his eyes, he embraced me and said, “Joshua, thank you for your words – they were beautiful.” What he said has lingered with me, and in the spirit of that remark, I hope that I can commemorate his life in the wake of his own passing.
It is an honor to be here before you. An honor to have the opportunity to give my family words of peace and encouragement, as well as a joy to share with you my stories of this extraordinary man. But it is daunting to frame a life that spanned 88 years in the few minutes I have to speak to you. Do I know enough about the whole of Lolo’s life? Probably not. I can’t tell you what he was like during his youth in the Philippines. I don’t know what he faced during his time in the Navy. I only know a little about his courtship of Lola and their wedding. And I can’t tell you what he was like as a father.
But I, along with my cousins and my brother, have had the greatest luck to be his grandchildren. And we can tell you what it was like to know Fernando Delumpa as a Lolo. And really, is there any better title that can be bestowed upon a man than Lolo?
As one of his grandchildren, I grew up spoiled under a devoted grandfather’s attention. My earliest memories of Lolo are in a one-story brick house at 6900 Adele Drive. When I was a young boy, I would spend weeks at a time with Lolo and Lola. There at the house, Lolo would teach me to play blackjack, let me bang on the piano, and watch me run around the backyard. He showed me the value of “lo-lo prices” during shopping sprees at Big Lots & Dollar Tree, and he had quite the appetite for fried chicken and Chinese buffets. He would teach me Tagalog and tell me numerous times, with glee, how the nurse handed me to him immediately after I was born.
I watched him grow beautiful gardens and dance with Lola at Novenas. I watched him faithfully serve the congregation and the Fil-Am community in this very church. My fondest memory of Lolo occurred when I was 5 or 6 years old. I was sleeping in Lolo’s guest room, and I became frightened from a nightmare. I went into Lolo’s room, and expected him to say that I should return to my room. Yet, instead of sending me back to sleep, Lolo made a little bed for me right next to his bed. As I lay down to sleep, Lolo started to talk with me. He told me stories until I fell asleep. I continued to sleep by his side for years, and was one of many grandchildren to experience Lolo’s love.
No matter which grandchild you were, whether you saw him every day or only saw him once a year, Lolo had the natural ability to make you feel important and loved. You always knew he was silently cheering for each of us to find happiness and success. It was the smallest of moments that Lolo truly made you feel special. I hope I never forget the way he said each of our names when he saw the grandchildren outside on his driveway on Adele Drive, or when he would arrive at the beach house at the Outer Banks. There was a ring to his voice and a smile on his face that left no doubt in your mind that at least for that moment, you were the center of his world.
Lolo’s time in the Navy spanned 30 years. Undoubtedly, it was one of the defining chapters of his life. I don’t know a lot of detail about what he experienced during those years, but surely there were days when he thought his life could end on an ocean battlefield rather than quietly in his bed 50 years later. I’ve often wondered if Lolo had any idea how his future would play out after he returned home from sea. Under the starry night in the Pacific Ocean, did he imagine the birth of 4 beautiful daughters? Daughters who would go on to success in their own lives and raise their own families?
Did he have any idea that he would become a respected leader in the St. Pious community? Could he have imagined that his family would grow to include 7 grandchildren, causing his home to burst at the seams with our laughter and love for each other? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but I would venture a guess that the reality of what Lolo called that “great life” is much sweeter than he could have imagined as a handsome, young man in the Philippines so long ago.
At his heart, Lolo was a family man. From day one, he has taught his grandchildren what it means to be family. It was his family that kept him going – this wonderfully crazy, close-knit, loving family. A family that supports each other, that reaches out to help its own and many others. A family that loves being together because it never fails to have a great time and make memories. A family that is not perfect, but is so often recognized by others as something very special. This kind of family doesn’t happen by accident. It starts at the top. It started with Lolo. This family is the best possible testament to the character of Lolo.
As I grow older, I realize that family is more than a common ancestry. It shapes you and colors you and binds you. You can feel the tangible connections between us, linked through time from the past and fading into the future. Lolo was at the center of so many quiet traditions and unspoken ceremonies that have made up the fabric of our family. The memories remain as a constant reminder of who he was, and his impact on all of our lives.
I know that the past few months, and especially this week, have been hard. There has been sadness and tears and we are all feeling the emptiness of a house that will no longer see Lolo watching Dancing with the Stars after dinner.
Henry James said that “Sorrow comes in great waves...but rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us, it leaves us. And we know that if it is strong, we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain.” Although I am deeply saddened by the loss of Lolo, I find strength and hope in knowing that Lolo’s blood flows in my veins – who he was still lives in me, and will one day, live in my children and grandchildren. To my brother and my cousins, to my parents, my aunts, and my uncles – you only have to look around you right now. Look at what Lolo gave you. It isn’t land. It isn’t money. It is this family. This beautiful family is his legacy and every one of you – are part of it. How did we all get so lucky?
To our Lolo, we have just one last thing to say – Lolo it will be a little while, but we will come back and see you, okay? I know that at this very moment, you are walking in a garden somewhere, stopping to enjoy the flowers and take in the sunshine and fresh air. Send Lola our love, and don’t forget just how much you mean to us. Lolo, we love you and we miss you. Rest peacefully, you deserve it.
No comments:
Post a Comment