Chapter XXIX: Fulfillment
Whenever Mercy rests in the sala, the little Shih Tzu, Raffy, makes it his mission to keep her company. His tiny paws tap against the shiny red floor, his ears perked like antennas, and his fluffy tail wagging as if powered by an endless battery. Mercy doesn't resist.
"Oh, my arimunding-munding," she coos, scooping him onto her lap. "You really love your Mamang, huh?"
Raffy licks her hand, then climbs up to nuzzle her cheek. Mercy bursts into laughter, the kind of laugh that echoes around the sala and startles Rico from outside where he's tinkering with a bicycle.
"Hoy! Mercy! Are you okay?" Rico calls from the yard.
"Yes, I'm fine!" Mercy answers, still laughing. "This dog is my joy. Don't disturb us."
Rico shakes his head and mutters, "You love that dog more than me."
Mercy shouts back, "Because the dog listens better than you!"
Inside, Raffy barks, almost as if agreeing.
After the third quarter of school, Mark surprises them again. He lands in the Top 10 for his section. For a boy who had stumbled early in the year, this is another victory, and Mercy is practically shouting to the entire neighborhood.
"Deta ti Apok! (That's my apo!)" she declares, holding the certificate high. "Not just smart, but top ten twice! The Cortesa-Quadro blood runs strong!"
Mark blushes, scratching the back of his head. "Mamang..."
But Mercy won't stop. She pats him on the shoulders, squeezes his cheeks, and even promises to buy him his favorite okoy next time they go to Hermosa.
(Okoy is a deep-fried delicacy with Udang (Small Lobsters) in the mixture of the dough.)
One sunny afternoon, Rico pulls out the old tricycle. Its engine coughs and rattles, sounding more like an asthmatic rooster than a vehicle, but it does its job. He drives Meric and Mark to Plaza Jose to fetch Mercy, who is at the Anacleto Mansion for a prayer meeting.
At the plaza, they sit at the cemented tables with chess boards carved on top, shaded by the trees. A brick plant box is beside them, filled with yellow bell flowers. Mark traces the squares on the cement board, pretending to play a game.
"Adittan mamangen, (There comes Mamang,)" Rico points out suddenly.
They all look up. Mercy is walking beside the Hermosa Cathedral, wearing her favorite red blouse, her stride confident, make a left at Belfry, heading toward the Empanadaan.
"There she is," Meric says, relieved. "Let's go to her."
But as they cross the plaza toward her, something strange happens. One moment she's there, her red blouse vivid against crowd of people at the Empanadaan, and the next—she's gone. Just vanished, like smoke.
"Mang?" Meric freezes.
"Hoy!" Rico rubs his eyes. "Where did she go?"
Mark blinks rapidly. "She disappeared!"
They wait, bewildered, until five minutes later, Mercy appears—this time from behind them.
"Hoy! Sino birbiroken yu?" she says, hands on her hips. ("Hey! Who are you looking for?")
Meric spins around. "Mang! We just saw you walking there—then you vanished!"
Mercy frowns. "Huh? I came straight from Anacleto Mansion. I haven't even been near Plaza Jose today."
The three exchange glances, baffled. But Mercy shrugs it off. "Enough of your ghost stories. Let's eat empanada before they run out."
And so they do, though an unease lingers in their minds.
A few weeks later, big news stirs the family. Elric comes home from abroad to Pantay Este. Coincidentally, his son Aldric graduates from elementary school at DWCH. To top it all off, the family's long-awaited dream house renovation in Pantay Este is finally complete. Elric wastes no time inviting everyone over.
On the evening of March 21, 2015, Rico drives the old tricycle again, carrying Mercy, Meric, and Mark. The tricycle wheezes along the road like an old man climbing stairs, but it reaches the house safely.
Moments later, Jonn arrives too, roaring up with his green motorcycle. He parks with a flourish, pulling off his helmet dramatically, as if he's an action star.
"'Nong!" Jonn calls, waving.
Elric steps out of the house, beaming. "Kabsat! You made it! Come inside."
Inside, an SVD priest from DWCH waits at the altar for the blessing of the house. The family joins hands in prayer, thanking God for new beginnings. Mercy crosses herself slowly, eyes closed, lips whispering a prayer of gratitude.
Afterward, Elric proudly gives a tour of the renovated house. The rooms are bright and spacious, the kitchen polished, the living room full of sleek furniture. Everyone nods in approval—until they notice a small design flaw.
To reach the rooftop, one has to pass directly through the master's bedroom.
"Seriously?" Jonn laughs, slapping his knee. "So every time we want fresh air, we invade your room?"
Elric rubs his head, embarrassed. "I didn't notice during the design stage. I'm an architect, but I missed this one."
The family bursts into laughter. Even Mercy chuckles, shaking her head. "Ay, Elric, architect ka pay la ketdi!" ("You're still an architect, huh!")
While the others explore the rooftop view, Mercy stays in the sala, sipping water. When they come down, she joins them for a hearty dinner. The table is full of food—kare-kare, Sopas (Macaroni), fried chicken, and spaghetti. Stories fly across the table, overlapping, full of laughter and teasing.
Afterward, they gather in the sala for a group picture. Rico and Mercy sit at the center, their children—Elric, Meric, and Jonn—crowding around them, all sitting down on the sofa. The flash captures the moment: a family complete.
That night, they all head home, their hearts warm.
But fate shifts quickly.
In the early hours of the next morning, March 22, 2015, Mercy's body weakens. She clutches her chest, her breath ragged.
"Rico..." she whispers.
Panicked, Rico calls for Meric and Jonn. They rush her to the hospital. Mercy wants to go to Hermosa Polyclinic, but Jonn insists at the provincial hospital, closer and familiar to him as an employee.
At the hospital, Mercy struggles to breathe. Doctors rush her to the ICU. Tests reveal water in her lungs, a complication worsened by her diabetes and cholesterol. Machines surround her—an oxygen mask, IV drips, the steady beep of a heart monitor.
That afternoon, it is Mark's recognition day at Hermosa Central School. Mercy insists that Meric and Rico attend.
"Go," she says firmly, her voice muffled by the mask. "Take a picture of Mark with his medal. I need to see it. Please."
At the school, Mark walks proudly onstage, receiving his medal and certificate as one of the Top 10. Meric claps until her palms sting. Rico wipes his eyes discreetly. They take photos, holding the medal close, knowing Mercy is waiting to see it.
After the ceremony, they rush back to the hospital. Mark begs to visit her grandma, but the ICU restricts children. He presses his face against the glass window, trying to catch a glimpse, but nurses shoo him away gently.
Inside, Mercy lies frail, her breaths shallow. Meric shows her the picture of Mark with a medal, and she is so proud and happy to see it. However, she can't bear to watch too long. She brings Mark home, while Rico stays behind, silently praying.
Alone in her hospital bed, Mercy's mind drifts.
She sees flashes of her childhood—her parents Tory and Melo, Don and Dona though simple folks who taught her resilience. She remembers running through the fields, barefoot, her mother's laughter echoing. She remembers the hardships, the nights of prayer, and how she swore her own children would never suffer the same as her during her highschool.
Her thoughts turn to motherhood. Elric, Meric, MaryJane, and Jonn. She remembers each birth, the long nights, the sacrifices. She remembers working tirelessly, sometimes selling, sometimes sewing, sometimes cooking, all to keep them fed and schooled.
She reflects with pride: all her children finished their degrees. That was her life's mission, her greatest achievement.
Tears slip from the corners of her eyes. Without her, would they have survived? She had been the stronghold, the defender, the one who carried the family when Rico could not.
Rico. Her husband. Lazy, yes. Jobless, yes. But patient. Loving in his own way. He never abandoned her. He stayed, even when he had little or nothing to provide. And for that, she forgives him, even loves him.
Her mind drifts to her grandchildren: Aldric, Adrion, and Mark. She smiles weakly, whispering Mark's name. He is the apple of her eye, her joy. But regret pierces her heart. She will not live long enough to see them graduate, to witness their weddings, to hold their children.
Her breathing grows heavier. Her lungs fill with more fluid. The heart monitor falters, skipping beats.
"Mang? MANG! MAMANG!" Jonn cries, rushing to her side, calling nurses for help. They try everything—oxygen adjustments, medications, injections. But her body is too weak.
Jonn grips her hand, tears falling freely. "Please, Mang... don't leave us yet."
The beeping slows. Mercy exhales one last time.
And then—the flatline.
The room fills with silence except for Jonn's sobs. Nurses bow their heads.
At 2:16 a.m., March 29, 2015, Mercedes Cortesa Quadro is gone.
The matriarch, the stronghold, the heart of the family—her fight is over.