Im thinking of my mom. Earlier I had my dinner, alone as usual at a not-so-fancy restaurant somewhere and I saw a mom and her two daughters eating opposite my table. A strike of bitterness hit me. I have always loved the idea of treating my mom of something when she was still alive. The problem was, back then, I was still at school. I still want to give her a treat though. If only I could…
Well, anyways, truth is, I think I have mentioned this to someone already but I don’t know if he believed it or not, recently i noticed how being forgetful I am, but if there’s one thing that I deliberately forgotten, it was the exact date of her death. I don’t know. It was too painful for me that I just automatically shut down and chose not to remember it. If there’s a time that it will be brought up at a family’s conversation, I would say, “ Hindi ko matandaan eh.”
I always remember her.. . Randomly. When im inside the bus travelling back home, strolling inside the mall, when I see mothers, hear song about mothers, every Christmas, sometimes when I get cash from an ATM, when im with my nephews, whenever im alone… I do remember her. I see her face. Her different looks in different hairdos.I remember seeing the trace of her beauty. Yes. She was beautiful. a little chubby but nonetheless a beauty. I remember how simple her being was. How simple her life was. I remember how she laughed. How the news of my eldest brother getting married initially upset her because of the unplanned pregnancy then accepting the situation and moved on. I remember her taking care of my first nephew. How she managed to take care of the three of us. I remember how busy she was whenever it was our barrio fiesta . I remember how she would talk to me directly. How she prepared the most simple breakfast. I remember how she smiled when I told her I had my period. I remember how proud she was whenever I got medals in my elementary days. How she would get up early morning, with her walis tingting and pandakot. That same walis tingting used to discipline me. and yes. She did spank me but I never complained. It was by far, ok. God I remember how she would agree to my father. How being submissive she was. She didn’t ask nor complain about the life that we had back then. She was living the life that she had.
But then again there are painful memories that I could not forget. Her last days. Hospital days. I was there. Me and my aunt were witness to those. I remember her, before undergoing an operation, she was panicking and was so scared. She’s so vulnerable in that hospital. She didn’t welcome the idea of needles, dextrose, medicine etc.. Anyway, I was the one doing errands back and forth the hospital. I used to deliver blood samples. The day she was about to be operated, she was sitting on that wheelchair.. She was just looking down. Touching her fingers. I could see how nervous she was in the idea of operation. She was even crying. When she looked up, silly me, I don’t know how to cheer her up or to make things light to her, I just said, “ Nay, ok!" (with a thumb’s up) After the operation, we never saw her usual self again. She never again opened her eyes unless seizure was happening. How gloomy that morning was when the doctor told us that the only thing that kept her breathing was that piece of machine… and that we have to decide on what to do next. God she was so… so… helpless. She was not responding anymore. Her skin lost its natural glow. Temperature dropped to getting cold. I kept on talking to her. Me and my aunt. I don’t know if she heard us. It still pains me up to now. Piercing memories that I tried to get used to but I couldn’t. I guess im only successful on forgetting the dates. If only things were a bit different back then.
I wish I could talk to her still. Im wondering how our life would be if she’s still around. I miss my mother. So much. Missing for me breaks your heart. I miss being a daughter, too. Minutes ago, I found myself typing these words on my celfone:
If she’s still alive…
I definitely would have given her a treat…
Our house is not a disaster…
Our garden is still a garden…
Our relationship to our father would have been different…
Our windows would have curtains…
Sinigang sa bayabas will still be around…
She would have insisted on doing my laundry every now and then…
My 2nd nephew would have known how to say po and opo…
Homey atmosphere at home…
I would have someone to listen to…
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