Ináy Zenaida: in memoriam (1935–1999)

By Pepe Alas on July 30, 2024

^{The Atienza – del Mundo Family in their rented apartment in Calle Vergel, Pásay, circa 1990s. Ináy Zenaida is the elderly lady in white, seated behind. A young Yeyette sits in front of her, waving to the camera.}

Today is the 25th death anniversary of Zenaida del Mundo (1935–1999), my wife's beloved grandmother who reared her from infancy up to her early teenage years (my wife's young mom was then busy with her studies and eventual career in pedagogy). Ináy^* Zenaida, as she was fondly called, was only 64 when she passed away. Yeyette and I were still college buddies in Adamson University.

I never met her. But I got introduced to her in the most inopportune and rather comical manner. During Ináy Zenaida's final days, I had been snubbing Yeyette at school. Actually, it was a prank snub for a wrongdoing that she had committed to our group (it had something to do with a class project that I just couldn't remember anymore). Each time we met, I kept my distance. It upset her, much to my delight, and some of our friends were in on the joke. Naglálabas pa siyá noón ng samá ng loób cay Christian Malig dahil hindí co na siyá pinápansin. 🤣

Then one day —and I think it was 2 August 1999, a Monday, or two days after her grandmother's demise— I saw her trudging up the stairs of the ST Building. I was then on my way down with Christian and the rest of the gang (I just couldn't recall who). I was about to continue my snub to make our friends laugh, but Yeyette held my hand in the middle of the stairs. I thought she was going to confront me for my continuous snub, but I noticed something different in her. Her school uniform looked unkempt. Her hair was slovenly. And her eyes were reddish — she had just finished crying. She looked like a total wreck.

I thought her tears were for me. But she surprised all of us when she said that she had to withdraw from our class project because she had to leave for the province — her grandmother had just died. 😭

I was filled with sudden guilt and shame. I had to, of course, offer my condolences. I held her hand tight with the other hand rubbing her back while the rest of our group showered her with sympathies. She was trying to control her tears. One of our classmates said that it's OK, we'll just take care of our project. It was the first time that we saw her in a grief-stricken state. She had always been jolly.

When we got married, I got to know more stories about her grandmother. She was very religious, always with a Rosary in hand with matching scapular. The archetypal Filipina grandmother. I also learned later on that Ináy Zenaida was actually the daughter of Don Vicente del Mundo, two-time mayor of Abra de Ílog (1942 to 1947, then from 1960 to 1963).

After each storytelling about her grandmother, Yeyette would break down. She never fully recovered from her grandmother's death.

In your charity, please offer a short prayer for the eternal repose of Ináy Zenaida. Nauá'y magcasama na silá ni Yeyette sa Paraíso.

Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.

^{*A more endearing term for the word nanay, the Tagálog for mother.}