I also felt it right to remember her in as graceful a way I and my family can. So, I am reprinting here a letter I wrote to friends a week after Yam was born in 1995. We were ecstatic then. Here it goes:
"It's Yamyam. Not Yam as many, including myself, expected. Janice (my elder daughter) always wanted the baby to be named Yamyam if a she and Yam if a he (it later became more convenient and fun to call her Yam). If you are wondering why Yamyam, it is because yam is Emma's (my wife) most notable rootcrop. It was her study of yam that earned her an international scholarship grant to pursue a doctorate. (And Yam was born when that doctorate was just completed).
"Yamyam's coming was a drama by itself. October 17 was Janice's birthday and the family had a relaxed day. The night before, we had dinner with friends at home. After dinner, I brought a couple of guests (Edwin and Vangie) to the bus station, then was back and watched TV till midnight. At 5 early morning the following day, I was awakened by the doctor of yam complaining of stomach cramps. Since we didn't expect the baby to come out this soon, we dilly-dallied in our morning rituals but were still fortunate to leave house at 6:45am.
"Our drive to Baguio General Hospital was colored by moans and groans from the yam doctor who was sprawled on the back of the car with only Joseph by her side (Doctors of yam simply can't treat themselves). John and Janice (12 and 4 yrs old then) both sat on the front seat. We dropped the boys at the jeepney station to their school, then drove away and reached the hospital at 7:30. We rushed to the emergency room, then went through the usual questions of 'Ano pangalan nyo, edad, tirahan, trabaho' and all that stuff.
We weren't finished answering routine questions when Emma was rushed on a stretcher to the delivery room. Janice and I scampered to follow, leaving behind the medical clerk who just lost a precious client (we later realized my wife's sandals were left there too and got lost forever). By the door of the delivery room, we waited, peeped, eavesdropped and within minutes, the first cry of Yamyam filled and reverberated around the room. We faintly heard the accompanying sigh of relief from the doctor of yam. It was 7:50am, October 18, 1995.
"As Yamyam saw the light of day, the drama continues with smaller, unnoticed acts outside the delivery room. Children below 7 were not allowed inside the hospital, but there was Janice riding by her Dad's hips who, in turn, was going to and fro the hospital corridors, attending to every minute things which mother and child needed. Hospital attendants and patients passing by curiously stared at father and daughter clutched on to each other, carrying at times a bag of medical supplies, the next time a bag of baby outfits, and still the next time a bag of goodies.
"We know you are just as happy to hear this first episode. The longer drama of sleepless nights of caring, caressing and occasional races on who should hold or sleep beside the baby has just come. This is the current attraction. There is more to come."
In hindsight, I am struck with the last paragraph I wrote 13 and a half years ago. It reminds me of this saying: "When I was born, I was crying and everyone around was smiling. When I die, everyone around me will be crying while I Iay down smiling." I believe my daughter Yam died a year ago smiling in her heart - having lived a short but good life, fought a good but losing fight, and left us in tears but thankful we had her for a full 12 and a half years.
To our dear, lovely Yam, we miss you, but we feel comforted that you are in the best of hands.
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