Never had a language – not mere words – played a poignant role in easing the waving aches of grief over a father who had passed away, away from the land and family he missed and loved through the years. But Tagalog did.
This is the story of how the Philippines’ heritage language became the driving force for one former Tagalog class student of Rizal Center to strive to learn the language of her father and how this brought closure to a sad period in this student’s young life.
In the Tagalog class, Kyla was the reserved but religiously diligent student. She was always ready to join discussions and quick to answer when asked specific questions in grammar and practical usage of the language. She exerted efforts to ensure correct pronunciation and appropriate lexical structuring, using the variety of resources made available in the class.
In no time at all, she was speaking and writing in Tagalog with just little, minor errors and was always quick to remedy any lapses in her learning process. Kyla participated enthusiastically in class activities. She initiated group work and led in presenting their collective production. In between the serious, riotous, and fun environment in the class, there was a noticeable sadness in Kyla that her disciplined demeanor managed to hide from everyone.
Kyla’s note.
On the last day of the class, she left me a note that plumbed raw emotions in me and made me marvel at the quiet and dignified way she built resilience in acknowledging her pain and finding ways to live with it. And the one way that she found was to learn Tagalog.
I tried to thread together how Kyla must have proceeded along a path that took her to Ilocos Sur, the land of her father. I imagined how, with a heavy heart, she tried to convey to her grandmother her son’s final words, how he said, repeatedly, that he loved her, that he missed her, and wished to see her one more time. I could feel how hard Kyla tried to recall the important Tagalog words she learned in class so she could tell her grandmother all the appropriate things to say, when to say them, and how to correctly say them.
I thought about how Kyla strained to listen to her grandmother’s sorrowful voice, how to listen to her grandmother’s whispered remarks, how to reply to her queries, her many questions, how to manage the grief that plied across, over and through her tears, holding tight to her heart the urn that contains her son’s remains that came home to rest. I had no idea how long the anguish would have lasted for Kyla, but I could fathom the great relief that came with the closure that she had sought.
In her note to me on the final day of our Tagalog Class, Kyla wrote, “I appreciate your time and expertise with this challenging language. I know I will use every bit when I go to Ilocos Sur to carry out my father’s final wish and put him to rest in his home. Your class has been a bright spot for me during a hard time.”
Connie Triggiano is currently Board Secretary of Circa-Pintig, a Chicago community theater organization. She works as Academic and English tutor assisting foreign students to pass IELTS, TOEFL, Celpic, ESL and other English exams to gain admission to universities in English speaking countries. She also trains greencard holders to pass US citizenship exams and interview. She worked for many years as Vice-President of Chicago-based Leo Burnett Advertising in its Manila office where she managed the advertising accounts of the country’s biggest brands: Procter & Gamble, Pepsi Cola International, BPI, Vicks, Wyeth and Cathay Pacific. She edited a travel newspaper in Singapore and taught college freshmen in a local university. Connie graduated with a BA degree, major in English, from the University of San Francisco in California while working as an information officer for a United Way agency. She took up MS in Advertising at the Asian Institute for the Development of Advertising, UST Graduate School.
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