Chapter XL: Fiesta ti Natay (Feast of the Dead)
The last beats of the Raniag Twilight Festival spill into the days of Undas, stretching its color and light into a season that is usually somber. For most families, November means candles, prayers, and flowers, but Hermosa has already filled the air with glowing parades and illuminated floats. It is as if the city itself refuses to mourn without first burning with celebration.
For the Quadro family, the shift from festival to Undas is bittersweet. The laughter from the festival still echoes in the streets, yet their hearts are heavy with the memories of Mercy and Conching. The lanterns and lights of Raniag serve as a strange companion to their grief.
Rico, together with his sons Elric and Jonn, rises early on the last days of October. The morning air bites with a coolness that hints of November. He slings an old rag over his shoulder, while Elric carries two buckets of paint—cheap but bright white. Jonn, the younger one, follows behind with a broom and a dustpan that squeaks at every step.
They head to Pampantoc, where the Panchongs—layered crypts stacked like books in a library of the dead—wait silently under the sun. Some are neat, some broken, some half-swallowed by vines.
"Pang," Elric groans, setting down one bucket. "Do we really need two coats of paint? One is already blinding enough."
Rico laughs. "If we do it halfway, your mother will scold us from heaven. Better blind than lazy."
Jonn, who has already started sweeping cobwebs, mutters, "She's probably already shaking her head at how uneven Manong paints. Look, Pang, it looks like zebra stripes."
Elric flicks paint at Jonn with his brush. "Keep talking and I'll paint your face white too. Then you'll look like the ghost that haunts this place."
Jonn yelps, dodging, while Rico chuckles, steadying the bucket. The work is long, but the three of them keep bantering, turning the tedious labor of repainting into something almost lively. By noon, the Panchongs gleam white against the blue sky, shining like clean sheets drying under the sun.
Rico steps back, wipes his sweat with the rag, and sighs. "Your mother would've liked this. She always wanted everything neat."
The boys fall quiet for a moment, then nod.
On the evening of October 31, 2015, the Jardin de Trinidad transforms into a sea of light. Families gather with folded lanterns, children squealing as they wait for their turn to let go. Vendors sell fishballs and sweet corn, smoke drifting lazily above the crowd.
Mark watches from the garden at Caluipat. Due to the brightness of the lanterns, it can be seen from afar.
"Mommy, look!", Mark points at the lanterns, and Meric looks at it.
"Nagraniag, makita pay ngayam ditoy. (It's so bright, you can see it from here)", Meric says.
"What are those floating lights, Mommy?", Mark asks.
"Balong, those are lanterns. During Raniag Festival, lanterns are assumed into the sky at night, a tribute to the dead.", Meric responds to him.
"Mommy, can we also do that soon in the future? Making a lantern to float in the sky?", Mark wonders.
"Wen ah, Balong. (Yes, son.)", Meric replies back to him, brushing his hair.
The fire is lit, the lantern slowly fills with air, glowing like a fragile moon cupped in their hands. As more people release the lanterns, the lanterns drift upward, joining hundreds of others. The night sky blooms with tiny suns, floating away, carrying silent wishes.
Meric goes and light a candle near the Mango Tree in the yard, then goes to the altar to light another candle.
She whispers, "For you, Ma. For you, Conching."
Jonn watches, his face illuminated by the lantern light. "Looks like stars escaping to heaven."
Mark, grinning wide, waves both hands at the sky. "Vaya Con Dios, Los Muertos. "
Mark feels a sorrow feeling, so as Jonn and Meric, but the latter feels her throat tighten. She places her arm around Mark and stares upward until the lanterns disappear into the dark.
Morning of November 1 arrives, sun striking hard even at early hours. Meric and Jonn ride a motorcycle toward Pardas Public Cemetery. The bike rattles and coughs like an old man, but it gets them there.
At the entrance stands a ruined brick gate, moss eating its edges. Police officers patrol around, their uniforms slightly damp from sweat. Some look bored, others suspicious of every face that passes.
"Feels like we're entering a military camp," Jonn jokes, slowing the motorcycle.
Meric chuckles. "Well, better guarded than chaotic. At least no one will steal the candles. Besides, it's Undas."
Before entering, they stop by the graves of their aunts Remedios and Maria Quadro, just meters away. They kneel, light white candles, and place them carefully before the simple lapidas.
Jonn whispers, "Auntie Remedios, Auntie Maria... say hi to Mamang for us."
Meric smiles faintly, brushing dust from one of the stones. "They must be gossiping with her already."
Deeper inside, they find Conching's crypt stacked above another relative's. Her name is engraved clearly: Consuelo Quiocho.
Meric sets down a basket of flowers, while Jonn lights the candles. Together, they bow their heads.
"Lord, keep her safe," Meric prays softly. "Tell her we miss her, but we're glad she's at peace."
After their prayer, Jonn sprays holy water over the panchong, droplets glistening in the sunlight. "Goodbye, Lelang Conching," he says.
Meric pats the cold cement once, as if touching her hand, then steps back.
Evening falls, and the family regroups to visit Mercy at the Hermosa Chinese Cemetery. Rico drives their old tricycle, which groans like it's begging for retirement. Inside are Meric and Mark, while Jonn takes his own ride. Eric and his family follow in a car.
The pathway narrows, lined with stacked Panchongs, some broken, some decorated, some forgotten. The air grows heavier the deeper they go.
Finally, they arrive. Mercy's lapida greets them: Mercedes C. Quadro. Her stone is unique—there is a photo of her smiling, eternal.
To her left are Rico's foster parents, Regina Quadro vda. de Uy (Tinang) and Uy Pit Sing (Pantaleon), their names engraved in memory. Beside them rest MaryJane and Zedric.
Meric kneels, lighting candles one by one. Jon unpacks barbecue and hotdogs, the smoke curling upward as if feeding both the living and the dead. Mark sits solemnly in front of the lapida, fiddling with the flowers. Rico brushes dirt from the stones with quiet determination.
A mass echoes from behind the cemetery, the priest's voice floating faintly over the walls. The solemnity wraps around them, pressing gently into their hearts. The choir sings Laglagipem Kadi at the mass.
As darkness deepens, more family arrives—Elric, Aldric, Adrion, and Elric's wife. Together, they pray, voices blending like a soft hymn. Holy water is sprinkled, flowers arranged, candles glowing.
When they finally say goodbye, the descent is treacherous. The path is pitch-black, but they move together, flashlights cutting through the shadows. Mark trips once, but Jonn grabs him before he falls.
"Careful, little man," Jonn teases. "The ghosts might think you want to join them early."
Mark sticks out his tongue. "I'm not scared! I have Mamang with me."
The next morning, Meric and Jonn ride again, this time to Guardino Cemetery. The path is hilly, almost cruel on the motorcycle. They finally reach the top, breathless.
The graves here are older, stones worn away by rain and time. At last, they find the markers of the Don and Doña: Carmelo Cortesa, Sr. (Melo) and Victoria P. Cortesa (Tory).
The lapidas are cracked, some letters faded, but the names remain. Meric sets down another basket of flowers, her hands trembling slightly.
"Lelong Melo, Lelang Tory," she whispers. "We remember you. We won't forget."
They bow their heads in prayer, the silence broken only by birds fluttering overhead.
That evening, as tradition, they return once more to Mercy's resting place in the Chinese Cemetery. The candles flicker, their flames tired but steady, like the family itself.
Meric looks around at her siblings, her son, her father, and realizes—this is what keeps them whole. Grief is heavy, but together, they carry it.
As they leave the cemetery, flashlights once again cutting the darkness, Meric whispers under her breath:
"Rest well, Mang. We'll keep walking, even in the dark."