FLORY, the STORYTELLER

     There’s so much to tell about Flory. As I recall the many memories I have of her, they alternately bring me to the brink of tears or laughter escapes even from this unhappy heart.  My story of Flory has been very hard to write, not because there are deep dark secrets I’m trying hard not to reveal, but because I know the way I will relate my memories of her will always pale in comparison to the way she would tell her version of these memories.

                  I first met Flory in college, in the late 1970s, when we were members of the UP Psychology Society. Then in the 1980s, our paths crossed again at the Foreign Service Institute. I was delighted to see a romance blossoming between two of my friends. (Trygve was a former colleague of my then would-be husband, Dani). As we shared a workplace for some years, we were witnesses to each other’s weddings, the births of our children, and all the events which marked important milestones in our lives.  For some years, we would just see each other occasionally until I joined the academe as full-time teacher in 1994. From then on I was ushered back into the folds of PSSP, which of course,  brought Flory and me to touch base again, catch up with the years through our stories, and work together on some projects.

Flory was a gifted story-teller. Throughout all these years from college and until the Monday before we lost her, she never ran out of  stories from all spheres of her life.  In the beginning, there were funny and heart-warming anecdotes about her parents, her siblings, her nephews and nieces. Then the stories would be about the antics and adventures of Trygve and their ever-delightful Niko and Mikkel. There were stories about her beloved students. Some were about her frustrations, but mostly about how she marveled at their appreciation of Sikolohiyang Pilipino. We talked about her colleagues and friends, but mostly in the light of how they brought precious insights and blessings into her life.                    

Always, the stories were told in detail and in a manner that got your attention. It was the way she unfolded the facts, described the action, and finally, gave the much-awaited ending.   She was much like a modern-day Lola Basyang, I would like to think, who captivated her audience. Except that her stories were about living, breathing people who were dear to her.

Let me give you just one example. To this day, I remember  her telling us that  on a family tour of Europe, her siblings had their dirty clothes sent to the hotel laundry. Upon seeing the bill, their parents  cautioned that from then on, they would have to do their own laundry. Misunderstanding the instructions, the siblings proceeded to wash once again the already laundered clothes. Oh no, a waste of precious dollars!  

If she told stories like the one above it was not to point out mistakes that people did, but to show that life was full of ironies. From Flory, I learned that it is easier to laugh over things like these rather than fret too much about things that cannot be undone. She was also engaging as a story-teller because you could tell that she was genuinely interested in the lives of others. Not in the tsismosa kind of way but in that she was always concerned how people would handle their problems. The lessons she learned from her own experiences were shared as she had no hesitations about giving her heart and soul to the people she cared for

There are more of her stories stored in my mind and heart. But by far, the life story of FLORDELIZA LAGBAO-BOLANTE is the most interesting story by far.  I could not even attempt to write it in full here as I wouldn’t be able to do her justice. Besides, I can almost imagine her engaging the angels in talk telling them how the last years of her life led her to Heaven. Yes, the ultimate ending she prayed for and was surely granted!