Remembering Mila Aguilar
Cecilia Manguerra Brainard
SHORTLY AFTER MY BROTHER DIED in 1994, my mother made arrangements to transfer a house and property in Makati to my name. Seeing my siblings bickering over money, Mama decided—while she was alive—to hand over the property to me, free and clear. That way, I would have a nice piece of property from her should the family end up in all-out fighting over inheritance. Which it did. But this story is not about the decades-long family litigation, rather it’s about an incident that had to do with my house on Mercury Street, Bel Air, Makati—a lovely, airy four-bedroom bungalow.
When my mother was a child, a fortune teller told her she would be wealthy and that her “sun would never set”, meaning she would always be at her zenith. This was a story she liked to tell when the properties she had bought in Makati soared in price. The fortune teller was correct. Even though she had trained as a classical pianist, she had a knack for making money, and properties she held all turned out to be prime land. But regarding my mother’s sun never setting when she became really old, in her last years, Mama ended up isolated from the rest of us, except for a sibling who orchestrated events. My Mother's last years were not bright at all.


































