Dear Mama,
I could not sleep last night. Maybe an insomiac effect of a cup of coffee I drank for my midnight snack. Or, maybe, because I was thinking of you. You see, although you left this world to join your Creator, you still are very much with me. I see you in many of my dreams, and you are very much alive in those dreams.
As I tried to close my eyes, my mind wandered in the past. I remembered how you took care of me especially when I was sick. Yeah, I was sickly when I was in my primary school days. I was in and out of the hospital, not knowing exactly what could've caused my stomach pain. You took me to several faith healers too, hoping I get well. One time, you were feeding me rice porridge while lying on the bed. I was too weak to eat. Then suddenly, I closed my eyes making you jump in panic, carrying me outside while shouting for help. You thought I was already leaving you then. Ater a few minutes, I opened my eyes and I saw you crying, some of your tears falling on my face. You embraced me assuring yourself that I am still alive. Felt relieved, you told me, "wag mo ng gagawin yun ah!" As a mother, I know how you felt, as I am, too, a mother now having similar worries when my son is a bit sick.
Mama, do you still remember when I helped you sell
bangus in the wet market? It was my first job, and I think I did well. People cramped in front of me and joyfully bought my
bangus. Selling bangus was your way to get us through our daily needs. You woke up early in the morning and traveled to the next city to get the freshiest bangus, scooping bunches of cold ice with your bare hands. You would arrive home in the evening, wet and dirty, and tired but still needed to count your day's earnings. We usually say, "
wow, dami pera ni mama." You would reply outright, "
pera ito ng bangus." Then we'd sweepingly utter, "
buti pa ang bangus, dami pera pero kami wala." You did this each day, rain or shine. Your only day off, I think, was when you get to watch an FPJ movie.
Then, my reminisce took me to a more difficult time, in my teenage days. It is still vivid in my mind how your right hand traversed in the air sending a hard lap on me rendering my cheek red from the pain, and wet from the bunch of tears that kept on falling from my weary eyes. You burst in anger, because of something I uttered in anger about your own mom. You did what a loving daughter should do. You defended your mom, even against your own daughter. A relative nearby watched me crying hard while washing my school uniform.
I also remembered how you and papa tried your very best to raise us up in good way and give us the precious education we need to have a good future. You have always told us to study hard, for in your time, education was a no-no because of the petty world war. And you were right. Education has brought us where and how we are now. I'm pretty sure you are very proud of all your four children.
I woke up this morning, my mind still set in the past. I can't take it off my mind, even if I got busy with my daily chores. So, I guess I'll write you a letter to tell you how much I miss you, without even knowing how will this get to you. Maybe, the Lord will do some magic, as the post office here could not do this for me.
Did you know that it was you who taught me to be prayerful, to lean on God for help and guidance? I could still remember when I was a bit better from my illness that we went to Manaoag church to pray to God and ask Him to take away my illness. You told me every word I needed to tell God. The Lord indeed heard my prayer coz I got well after a couple of weeks.
Then I went to college, and so my siblings, leaving you and papa alone in the house. I remember how homesickness was killing me on my first few months away from home. I think I would go home once a month till I got adjusted to my independent life. Years had passed and you asked me, "
kelan ka gaga-graduate?" I graduated, and started working. After a few years of working, you asked me, "
kelan ka mag-aasawa?" Then, I settled down, and after a few years, you asked me, "
kelan ka magkakaanak?"
Mama, I already have a baby now and he turned one year a few weeks ago. How I'd wish you see him grow, and also the rest of your grandchildren. You may not know it, but you already have eight
apos -- two from
ate, four from
kuya, one each from me and
bunso.
I am sorry that I wasn't at your side at the time of your leaving. I was at the church then, crying the whole time, earnestly praying to God to take away your pain. I prayed the way you taught me to pray when I wanted to get rid of my illness.
I also prayed for the whole family to be strong in that trying time of our life. Little did I know that, at that time, you were already leaving, that the Lord was already answering my prayer.
I rushed home to see you for the last time. Things looked the same way when I left a few days before that. Only one thing had changed. You were already breathless. I was afraid to touch you. I was afraid to look at you. I didn't say a word. I didn't even cry at that moment. I just kept silent while seating beside your bed.
That was almost four years ago. We've moved on, Mama. In doing so, we keep with us those memories of you... memories that remind us that once in our life, we had a loving, patient and wonderful mother. And I want to have all your motherly traits so that I'd be able to raise my son in the good way you did to us.
I miss you and I love you, Mama. See you in the next life.
