Did you ever feel connected to someone you actually never met? I do. Every year since God knows when, I’ve placed flowers and candles on the grave of a person named Martina Dacara.
She’s not really a stranger. She was the youngest sister of my late maternal grandmother, Ala. However, she was long dead before I was even born. When I was just kid, I learned from Ala that Lola Tina was just a baby when their mother died and she could barely walk when their dad died as well. Lola Tina grew up under the care of her siblings. Sadly, she died without a family of her own.
Her story didn’t left my mind. Ever. So I made a promise to myself that as long as I live, I will visit Lola Tina’s grave every year. I don’t know what came upon me but it just saddens me that the existence of a person can be erased just because no one remembers. That, I think, is the saddest aspect of human existence. When the physical body is gone, people just exist through pictures and memories.
But what about those people who don’t have pictures and families who will tell their stories? Will they just become one of those buried by time and history? I know that such case is inevitable but while we still can, we should remember those who gone ahead of us. It’s not a case of not being able to move on but a case of having the ability to thank those who made our own existence possible and maybe more humane.
I didn’t know Lola Tina. I don’t even know her face. But because I remember, I bother, the world knows there was once a young girl that lived by the name of Martina.