The church was still quite empty when I sat myself on a long bench in the middle row that evening. It was Wednesday, and eventhough it was a special mass, it wasn’t as crowded as Sunday masses.
It was so quiet. One by one people were coming. Then a soft voice woke me up from my reverie.
"Is this seat empty?" An old lady with a smiling face pointed to an empty seat beside me. I nodded. As the lady was kneeling down to pray, I sensed some familiar fragrance. I was beginning to notice that old lady.
She was so small and looked so fragile. She’s wearing a brown woolen sweater and a nice scarf on her neck. Finished praying, she took out her glasses, a box of rosary beads, and an old Bible from her bag.
"Did you go here straight from work?" she asked me again with a smile. Again, I nodded. Then she started to talk about her friends who were supposed to meet her here. I could sense her energy, her enthusiasm about life which seemed flowing from her glowing eyes.
The fragrance was still lingering, stronger now. My mind was drifting to another very old lady I care so much. She was so strong in spite of her tiny feature. Raising up seven children and she still cooked for her grandchildren when she passed away at the age of 85, years ago. Now I was missing that tough lady so much, someone who taught me so many things about life.
The fragrance was the same fragrance that my grandma used to wear.
