The Keepers of the Forgotten Graves

At Aglipay Cemetery in Laoag City, Rene and his wife scrub tombs beneath the heat and collect recyclables to support their family. When they speak about their children’s dreams, the mother’s eyes fill with tears. They hope their children can finish college and leave behind the poverty their parents have known.

Rene bends over a tomb and scrubs. Dust lifts from the stone and settles around him. The heat presses down on Aglipay Cemetery as he and his wife move from grave to grave, cleaning the surfaces families will soon visit—and some that no one may come to see.

Rene has been doing this work for two years. Asked whether it has become easier, he calls it exercise. The answer is matter-of-fact. So is the work: scrub, wipe, move on. His earnings must stretch beyond the cemetery, to the needs of a family facing the rising cost of everyday goods.

The cemetery’s busiest days come just before All Saints’ Day. From 25 October through 31, and sometimes until 2 November, Rene says he earns about P3,000 on an average day. On some days, however, he brings home as little as P1,000. Some families also pay P150 a month to maintain a grave—P1,800 over a year. Rene and his family collect recyclables, too, adding another source of income.

The money from the cemetery season helps, but it has to carry the family beyond those crowded days. The work is not equally available all year, and prices keep rising. Asked how the increases affect them, Rene says the situation is difficult. The family has to keep finding ways to earn.

Rene and his wife have two children, both in their final year of college. Neither parent finished school. They want their children to complete their degrees and have choices their parents did not.

One child hopes to become a police officer. The other wants to work in a hotel. These are the futures Rene and his wife imagine as they look at the life their children might build beyond the cemetery and beyond the hardship their family has known.

When the mother talks about those dreams, she becomes teary-eyed. She and Rene hope their children can rise out of poverty. The emotion reflects how much they want for them—and how far that hope can feel from the daily demands of making ends meet.

Rene once had a dream of his own. He wanted to study electronics. His wife wanted to become a nurse. Those ambitions did not become careers. Now their hopes are gathered around their children: one in uniform, the other working in a hotel, both able to complete the education their parents could not.

The parents know that finishing college will not make every difficulty disappear. Rene expects to keep working even after his children graduate and find jobs. When asked what he plans to do then, he says he will continue as he is now. For the moment, the family’s needs are here, and so is the work.

Not every grave brings in money. Some tombs have no one left to maintain them—or no one who comes. Rene cleans those too. He says he does it to help, so the people buried there will still be remembered.

It is a quiet kind of care. A stone is scrubbed clean; dust is cleared away. For graves with paying families, the upkeep prepares them for a visit. For the forgotten tombs, Rene’s work may be the only attention they receive.

Asked what he hopes for from the government, Rene says people need better livelihood opportunities. Assistance may help for a time, but it does not last. A steadier way to earn, he says, would give families like his more room to plan beyond the next expense.

On 1 November, families will return to Aglipay Cemetery in Laoag City to remember their dead. They will find graves cleaned and ready for flowers, candles, and visits. Some tombs will receive a crowd of relatives. Others may remain quiet.

Rene and his wife will have worked through the dust and heat to care for both. Their labor helps keep the household going, while their children continue toward futures their parents once wanted for themselves. When the mother speaks of those futures and tears come to her eyes, the distance between hope and hardship is plain. So is the reason she and Rene keep working: they want their children to have a chance to cross it.