I’m not into the usual Holy Week stuff now, but it feels comforting to see traditions being passed on. Reminds me of the time when my grandmother would pull us kids to join it. Sunday now, the time when Jesus rises from the dead. The Salubong is now happening, and the procession just passed by the house.
There are two processions: One with the men and the statue of Jesus, the other with the women and the statue of Mary (which was, IMO, creepy covered up with dark cloth). They go in different directions and meet up at the town plaza.
There, a little girl dressed up as an angel is lowered from a high platform. The statue of Mary is placed directly below her, and as she descends, she’ll take the cloth off Mary. Her mourning is now over as she sees her son alive.
When I was a kid, my grandma would wake us up to see it pass by our house, then we’d go back to bed. Only once did I recall actually joining it with her. She woke us up early, then we waited for the women’s procession to pass by. My brothers, young as they were, joined us.
I realise that the length of time my grandma is gone is almost as long as I’ve had her. Her influence is still strong though. Miss her terribly at times like these.