I was not at all startled to have realized that “my world” I now possess has been shaped by a foundation I have been nurtured with—my juvenescence. But among youthful escapades, it was genetics and ancestral influence that have developed the being in me—my roots.
Strong and mild: legacies of Catholic ideologies
I have always been under the impression that my family is a melting pot of diverse generations, scattered internationally and cupped with one sense of spirituality: a Catholic foundation. Relatives from my paternal side—perfectionists, patricians, conservatives—are more Catholic-devoted than those from my maternal side. This concludes valid as the older generations of the Lopez—my dad’s middle name—are mostly priests and casual missionaries. While relatives from my maternal side—businesspeople, entourage, easy-go-luckies—are the more relaxed and the more open; they do not fervently practice the traditional—and rather hidebound—Catholic doctrines.
It is therefore, not an urban myth for a Catholic-nurtured family to abide by the commandment of keeping the Sabbath day holy, for the Domantay family does not let a Sunday pass without hearing a mass. The church, at least for my father and mother, is a sacred structure built by the “chosen ones” of Jesus Christ deemed holy every Sundays; but like most Christians, what is the essence of the routinely activity of attending masses if we, church-goers, are moral hypocrites?
Family tree that branches across the world
My uncles, aunties, cousins, grandparents, and the rest of my relatives are scattered throughout different geographical regions in the world. Although majority of them are in the United States, some are in Canada, United Kingdom, the Middle East, and Japan. My closest home to home is Southern California—where all my dreams and memorable “firsts” came into a vivid picturesque. This diverse location in the Northern America is a special environment of mine, for it is the habitat of my beloved childhood cousins. These seven young first generation cousins—the Roy’s, the Valencia’s, and the Quiban’s—have been born overseas capturing the heart of Filipino in them, and most are now residing in their homes permanently. Throughout my childhood years endless bonding times have shaped my relationship with them. Yet presently, only questions of “When will you come back for a vacation again?” or “When will the time come when I will be able to visit each one of you again?” are going to yearn for the countless adventures I have had with them.