Monday, February 15, 2010

Narrative Essay: Piecing Back Tai-Kong

Note: An investigation ala In The Grove

Piecing Back Tai-kong

Papa
I never really knew your Tai-kong. As I’ve told you, he died days after I was born. I never got the chance to have a grandfather who told me stories and bought me toys; he only smiled down at me from his portraits on the halls of the grand ancestral house. You’ve been there, haven’t you, four years ago? Yes. They’re the ones hanging on the hall before the staircase to the third floor. I’ve seen them too, yes. There’s a new one? Oh, your Granpa had that one commissioned a year before your trip there. It was nice, no?
Anyway, what your Granma told me when I was young was that your Tai-kong died of a broken heart. He had lived a full life with your Tai-ma when she was suddenly gone. I never knew the reasons; your Granma never told me. But what I know is, your Tai-kong followed her quickly a year or so after. It was tragic, which explains why the family always kept it secret.
Sa-koh (Papa’s third elder sister)
Your Tai-kong? I was about what, four, five? Yes, your Papa was just born that year. It was sad, yes, that we didn’t enjoy his coming much when only after a few days’ time your Tai-kong passed away. It was a bad time to be born, moreover, bad luck. It is good that your father was very understanding at a very young age.
From what I have heard, though promise me never to tell this even to your father, the family has kept your Tai-kong’s drinking problem. After your Tai-ma’s great decline in health, he started drinking for fear of losing her. It was true that he loved her so, so much that he chose not to uphold the honor of the family by remarrying in light of your Tai-ma’s gradual decline. Traditionally, one who is honorable had to remarry to have somebody to take care of the household, and living in that time, it was still widely-practiced. Yes, it was out of the norm for your Tai-kong to choose to stay loyal to Tai-ma. Sadly, he drowned himself in the drink that he himself concocted. Yes, it was he who brought the formula of his father from China to the Philippines, known in the provinces as Siok-Tong. It was at the height of its market when all these happened, that’s what stopped the family plan of bringing the Siok-Tong from the provinces to Manila. Your Tai-kong himself ordered the factory closed in Tacloban after he learned of Tai-ma’s illness. He stopped all other efforts from his two grown children, your Granpa and Di-Tsiak-kong, to continue the rise of the business. Honestly, I believe he was too sentimental to have chosen love over honor, which would’ve been both practical and helpful to the family.
Si-koh (Papa’s fourth elder sister)
It was tragic to say the least. You know, your Tai-kong really loved your Tai-ma. After hearing of her illness, he resigned to keep her company and stopped all factory operations and the shipping operations from China. He shut down the business that he single-handedly raised and fell to drinking to stand the grief as your Tai-ma slowly faded from him. The whole family supported his decision to decline his friend’s efforts to find him a new wife to take care of the home; they knew it would be to no avail whether a new wife would be present at home. We all knew Tai-kong would never have loved another; that was how great his love for Tai-ma was. Do I think it was impractical of him? No. I think the decision was his to make and his alone, our family was right to not have pushed him to do the honorable. Honor was one thing, but love supercedes any other thing other people might’ve pushed our family to choose.
Granma
You do not ask things like that. Your Tai-kong died of a broken heart and that’s that. No more questions. Young men should not ask about the past, take care of the present and the future.
Granpa
Oh, your Tai-kong was a sweet and honorable man. He loved Mama, no questions about that. I respected his decision to close all operations both in the importing/exporting business and the local brewery; it was just too much a blow to him to hear Mama was dying. It was bad because everybody thought Mama was going to outlive Papa, what with her spirit and her being there always; it was especially bad to Pa. Pa thought he was about to die when the doctor told him the news. It was a bad night, the doctor had to be driven from a nearby city hospital in the rain and I had to wait for the car as it came in the driveway. It was raining a great deal and the wind just blew so hard the tree by the pool almost broke in half. I had to assist the doctor into the house because all the maids were huddled outside the room, confused by their mistress’ sudden collapse. Pa was inside, holding on to Ma’s hand and comforting her. What happened after that night was the start of our family’s decline. The business eventually died and hard times came. It was after your Tai-kong died that my brother, your Di-Tsiak-kong, and I decided to revive the fallen businesses and managed to salvage the crippled Siok-Tong factories. I never regretted standing by Pa, honor can never compare to his love for Ma and that was that.

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