Never a Mary Grace

 After leaving the super-stressful-and-strenuous workplace, I thought nothing could get my goat ever again. 

Nary a thing (not even paid trolls, Covid-19, and lying politicians) did, not for over 20 years, till a few months ago. 

The culprit is Mary Grace. 

It’s a lovely name. But it wreaked havoc upon my placid, peaceful place at the departure lounge, waiting for my flight home to forever land.

It all began when my youngest brother Dave started looking into the property papers left by our departed parents without any of their heirs’ names. These properties are not worth a fortune, but they have to be legally documented for any action. 

The first step to documentation is to prove that we are indeed the heirs. And each heir has to prove his birth and true identity.  

Our late dad left me an original copy of my birth certificate with documentary stamps. However, the Philippine Statistics Authority (PSA) now has the mandate to consolidate all government recording systems for the centralized data repository. 

Alas, the PSA has no record of my birth.  

So Dave, with supportive family members, went to the town of my birth to get a copy of my certificate to be forwarded to the PSA. 

Aaaargh!! 

My name on record is Mary Grace?! Upon seeing my original birth certicate, the person in charge said, “That’s too old!” In short, he went by Mary Grace to be sent to PSA. How that happened is beyond human comprehension. 

I’ve been called many names: mommy, manang, nakkong, ate, Ms., na’am, nanay, lola, but NEVER  Mary Grace!  

And now I have to prove that I am not, and never was, a Mary Grace.  

At my age, having lived in two continents for decades (birthed three sons, traveled the world with legitimate visas, studied in schools abroad, opened various bank accounts, purchased some properties and insurance plans, etc.) and used nothing but the name on my authentic birth certificate, would you smile and take it all? 

What are the government requirements to prove I am who I am?   

Police clearance, NBI clearance, tons of affidavits from employers, baptismal certificate, government IDs, letters from people who can vouch for the true personna I have lived all my life. 

 

There. I got it all out of my system. But not without globs, chunks, clumps, and slabs of grace at every turn. 

Whether the ‘gods that be” guarding birth records will believe those documents I slaved over for months on end remains a big question mark. 

End of rant. 

Back to blogging about grace.