From another email:
To Mr. Lee Cunningham:
Please add my maternal grandmother to your blog-list {http://grant-them-rest.blogspot.com/}
Her name is Señora Ida Ferraris viuda de Madarang.
She was born on the 13th of December 1920, the feast of St. Lucy, and passed away last 27th of September 2006, the feast of St. Vincent de Paul.
Attached to this email is her picture, and the eulogy that I delivered on the Solemn Requiem Mass in commemoration of her 40th Requiem Day.
Mil gracias para con todos!
Ryan of the Diocese of Parañaque, PHILIPPINES
I was unable to open the Word doc attachment from my Mac laptop (I guess I should fork over the money and get Microsoft Office already...), but I will add it when I get back into the office tomorrow.
Here is a picture of Señora Ida Ferraris viuda de Madarang
Please pray for the repose of her soul!
O Bone Jesu, miserere nobis.
Here is the eulogy that Ryan gave:
EULOGY for IDA FERRARIS viuda de MADARANG
32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Ida’s grandchildren were one, if not the most, busy preparing for today’s commemoration of her 40th Requiem day, so much so that one of them quipped; ang hirap maging apo ni Lola. {It’s hard to be a grandchild of Ida}
· Post-war Philippines found the 20-year old Ida taking upon her shoulders the yoke of supporting her orphaned family, setting aside her dreams and ambitions until her youngest sibling was able to offer herself to weave the fabric of the Lord with Ignacia’s scissor and needle.
· With their eldest child just a few days from his intermediate graduation, and their youngest a mere 8 years old, Ida again found herself alone due to the demise of the love and all of her life, Clem. With faith and courage, she took upon her shoulders the role of being both mother and father while suffering the loss of Clem.
· At an age when most would prefer to spend their days in quiet and solitude, she welcomed the birth of her eldest grandchild, taking upon herself his rearing and formation.
To live in the shadow of Ida means to live a life of courage, compassion, faith, and love.
Courage. Courage, which does not come from bravery but courage, which comes from her deep faith in God. Because she knew that if God is with us who can ever be against us.
Compassion. But compassion is not simply to give something to those who are in need. Compassion is with passion. She lived a life of passion. Passion not only in the sense of enthusiasm, but of passion, which is the passion of Christ prior to his death. She served as she suffered. And she suffered because she chose to serve.
Faith. But faith is not simply to mumble 10 Paters, 10 Aves, and 1 Confiteor and exclaim que sera, sera. Faith is to be like a child in the arms of your Father. She lived the faith...a living testament of the commandment of selfless-love that Christ has given to us.
{A lived faith is to see Christ in others; to be your brother’s keeper. A lived faith is to be the Acting Person; to be the other.}
Being bedridden, I occasionally brought her Holy Communion. As I raised the sacred species for her to see, never have I seen her eyes without tears as she prayed Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed. A child in the presence of her Father. A child of faith. A child of love.
Love. It is not the love of Cupid to his arrow but it is rather the love of the man crucified for us, because the perfect symbol of love is not Cupid with his arrow on Valentines Day.
The perfect symbol of love is Christ hanging on the cross on Good Friday. And Ida taught us that. She taught us charity not only love, not only Eros but agape. And there is no greater love; there is no greater agape than to lay down your life for your friends.
In this day and age, in a world of strife and discord, it is indeed hard to be Ida’s apo. However, we are reminded that Ida was not original because she only learned her courage, compassion, faith and love from the Lord himself.
Like the widow in today’s Gospel, Ida, throughout the course of her exile in this valley of tears, gave not from her surplus, but her very self, her whole self. Why? Because for somebody who loves much nothing is impossible. For somebody who loves much, there is no limit to what you can do because the greater measure of love is to love without measure.
To the very end, as I held her hand on the morning of the 27th of September, she taught us how to love. As the screen on the electrocardiogram flashed a flat line indicating that her heart had become asystolic, I could not help but whisper to her ear the summary of her life. I love you, Oha. As recounted by those who were witness to it, there was a slight and momentary movement in the electrocardiogram, as if indicating a response; I love you too, Ian...I love you all...
Love. That is who Ida was, is, and will always be.
When she started depending on her cane to be able to walk, I can proudly tell you that Ida always asked me to hold her hand so that she could steady her steps {It was in this very place that we would walk together, hand-in-hand, doing rounds going from the back to the front...but when she got tired, she would give me a slight pull, shortening our exercise to just a single round}.
This great woman who raised her siblings during the post-war onslaught of 1945 – this great mother who took upon her shoulders the burden of being both mother and father to her children upon the untimely demise of her husband, Clem – was humble enough to say “I need your assuring hand.” The hands that held our hands securely as we walked through the dark valleys of pain, sorrow and uncertainty were the same hands that sought security and assurance.
Ida’s eyes that saw differently from the way we saw things are now beholding the glory of God in heaven. Her legacy is a new way of seeing. He taught us how to see as God sees.
Her eyes have been closed by sister death but closed in order to behold the face of God in eternity.
Oha, take your well-deserved rest.
From Heaven, look upon us and ask the Lord to show us where to go. Ask the Lord to show us what to do. Take our hand and lead us to the bosom of the God who is love.
Oha, take your well-deserved rest.
We shall see each other again...Hasta pronto.
Oha, te quiero mucho...te quiero mucho.
Ryan Miguel Ramirez y Madarang
Eulogy for the 40th Requiem Day of
Ida Ferraris viuda de Madarang
12th of November 2006
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