Mother

pencil sketch of mum, by yours truly

Angel.

If I would have to describe my mom in one word, I’d say she’s an angel. This was not the case back then. Why? Let me take you back in time, back when I was nothing but a rotten brat and all I think about was myself.

I am very much aware that I’ll be humiliating myself but that’s beside the point and it doesn’t matter at all. I just want the world to know how great of a person my mom is.

My siblings and I were raised in a very strict manner.  I always joke about it as being brought up under the martial law and dad was like Marcos or Hitler. It was so tyrannical (that’s how I view it anyway) that I ended up hating my parents.

My dad’s a retired police officer and back then, he was the scariest dad in the whole universe. His kind of discipline was so tough, strict and cold that we, my siblings and I, became detached, uncaring, unloving, uncommunicative and very reserved.

Dad used to discipline and hit us over what seemed to be small mistakes. He’d use stick, belt, anything close to him whenever he’s in a fit of fury. Before you react violently, my dad is a GREAT dad and personally, now that I am able to actually think and feel, I realised that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.

Back then, my dad would punish us whenever we’d get bad grades, and by bad grades, I mean anything below 90. He’d be so mad if we don’t read our books and he’d throw things that we value away. Mom was strict too but nothing like dad. She was just very particular about going to grandma’s to pray the Angelus and the rosary every afternoon at 6 o’clock. She’s very strict about going to church too.

I took after my dad, stubborn, rebellious and unyielding so despite my fears, I did not bother obeying him. Whilst my brother decided to keep quiet and obey the rules, I went the other way and provoked my dad even more.

Young as I was, I learnt to ditch my classes, fake sickness, bully my siblings and not study what I’m supposed to study. While my brother was doing great in everything, winning all the contests at school, bringing home all the gold medals and ending up as the first honor of their batch, I ended up as the class’s worst student because instead of going to school, I’d hide at grandma’s, or throw a fit because I didn’t want to go to school and whenever I’m that bad, my mom would just let me be and pamper me.

I was on grade 4 when I got the hardest form of discipline that I told my parents in a very bad tone and disrespectful manner that I can also be like my brother, I just chose not to because I do not see any reason why I have to do good. Of course, I am now ashamed of this behaviour, that’s how rotten to core I was and I’m certainly not proud of it. My mom didn’t flinch though. She simply told me that she knew in her heart that I also have what my brother has. She told me not to hide what I’m capable of. She encouraged me and brought more books of my liking and pampered me even more.

And so I did what I was told. I came up to the teacher and told her that I’d like to challenge the then representative for the science quiz bee. I wasn’t taken seriously, what with my absences and all but I was allowed to compete. And compete I did and won.

It was the first time I’ve achieved something and I was quite happy about it but my dad wasn’t. Oh my dad was so hard to please. But my mom shrugged it off and continued supporting me. They must’ve seen how I somehow changed. Together, my grandparents and mom gave in to all of my whims (which, in my opinion wasn’t that good as I turned out to be even more bratty).

I continued doing great at school, like my brother, I became the school’s representative but every now and then, I’d relapse and shut everyone out. I am happiest when I’m on my own and doing my business.

Then came Grade 6, the year when one’s supposed to leave a legacy and be forever remembered (in our place anyway). I did well, represented not just the school but the whole province for the science competition but my dad still wasn’t pleased. Oh my dad, my gosh, come on, you! As it is, my dad was very hard to please.

So I decided the heck with it, nobody really cares whether I do good or not and so I went back to ditching my classes and being nasty at school. I was punished more than my brother but I couldn’t care less. I’d look at my mom with much hatred and defiance while I’m being disciplined and hit with a belt by dad.

Of course I’m clueless about how my mom felt back then but I figured she must be very hurt. Hurt seeing us, her children, being hit, hurt that her daugher was glowering at her. I will never know how much pain I’ve caused her everytime I’d scowl at her. She never really made her feelings obvious. Instead, she’d simply do her motherly duties and pampered me, and gave me all my demands but rotten as I was, I never really appreciated her.

I used to blame my mom for not stepping in and standing up for us when dad’s mad as a hornet because how could she not, she is our mother for crying out loud! Bad and bully as I was, I’m still the ate and I feel protective over my siblings so I hated her silence so much that I started hating her too. It was hard to watch my siblings being “disciplined” and getting hit, young, small and frail-looking as they were. It made me wonder how my mom handled it all those years and how she must’ve felt, because if you’ll ask me, all I’ve felt was anger.

My dad sure has a temper but mom never gets mad. When I think about it, I’ve never seen my parents in a fight. I don’t know whether they were just that good in hiding it from us or we we’re simply too oblivious. It’s also possible that they never really had a big fight because knowing mom, she won’t make a fuss about anything, she’d simply pray. She’d always answer dad in her soft voice. She’d raise her voice from time to time but she’d be back to her usual self before the day ended. She’s very soft, gentle and kind. She’s always smiling and singing songs of worship, praising God.

If I’d sum up my life, it went in a blur, with me leaving streaks of rebellion everywhere. While my brother’s way of insubordination was simply not talking and ignoring all of us, I did the opposite. I was out of control, I sure made a mess and made everybody miserable.

Years of suppressed hatred, angst and sadness all exploded one day when I was in college. My mom, however, didn’t give up on me. I thought even dad, who was very strict, softened up a bit. He has somehow changed and gave me whatever I wanted. One text and he’d send me money. He was mad, that I’m sure, but he didn’t say anything, he wasn’t as bad as he was. He simply let me be and didn’t punish me for being defiant.

Mom travelled back and forth to Manila where I’m studying and to the province, where everyone was. She stayed with me even when I’m completely ignoring her. She’d keep on talking as if I am one good company, prepared everything for me without mentioning anything about my bad behaviour. She simply kept praying and singing her songs of worship.

Forced to study nursing, I tried to do what I could do but without much enthusiasm. I was also tired of being pitted against my brother. When I thought I’ve had enough of everything, I bent out of shape and went on the warpath, just like dad. I screamed in fury, wrecked things shamelessly but through it all, my mom stood strong yet gentle and loving. She didn’t get mad and I wasn’t punished. She was smiling as kind and warm as Mama Mary, as always. When I told her I want to quit, she just hugged me, cried and prayed. And that is how it all began. My healing.

You never really know what pain is until you see your mother cry because of you. And when I saw mom crying while praying, my heart broke into million pieces. It was so heartbreaking that I was shaken to the core. I thought all the pain I’ve ever felt was nothing compared to her pain. And that was when I understood, how hard it was for her, all these years, to carry such heavy burden of having cold, detached and uncaring kids.

I was never an open person, I may talk a lot with my friends but at home, I was always reserved, for fear of saying something that would spark my dad’s fuse, for fear of being punished over something small and insignificant matter. But when I saw my mom’s tears, I realized how wrong it was of me to put up walls between us. All she ever did was love us unconditionally and all she ever got in return were cold responses from all of her children, including me. It took me years of practice to get used to being blunt about how I feel. I have always been cautious and scared of expressing how I feel but now, I take every chance I get to tell them I love them, no matter how mushy it may seem and no matter how hard it is to say it, especially when I know I’ll just be ignored.

I started noticing my mom more and I can now see the sadness behind her smiles. I couldn’t quite believe it when, for the first time, I took notice of her wrinkles, it was unbelievable. My mom couldn’t possibly have aged right? And now what? She has wrinkles? No way! To me she’s always this petite, young-looking, forever-smiling, gentle woman.

But my mom has really aged, those years of enduring God-knows-what-kind of sufferings have finally taken its toll on her. But other than her physical appearance, she is still the same woman I used to know, same mother, always smiling, always happy, always singing songs of worship.

My frozen heart thawed out and is now filled with love. I have learned to forgive, forget and understand people in ways I couldn’t imagine, all thanks to my mom. I mean, if she can handle me when I was at my worst, plus a couple more of stubborn, unresponsive children, what excuse have I got to not be able to understand and love an unlovable person?

And when I think of all of it and who I am now, I realised that I owe my mom my best attribute, my patience and compassion. Thanks to my mom’s unwavering resolve and countless prayers, I’ve learnt about compassion and love despite dad’s iron-fisted way of upbringing. I could finally say that maybe, just maybe, I am ready to become the person my mother wants me to be.

I still have a long way to go though, that I’m sure of, but I know as long as I have my mom, I’ll be okay. She is my guardian angel personified. She saved me from myself and from going down the bottomless pit of nothingness with her tenderness and unconditional love.

I am at peace knowing that everything will be okay because I was trained really good by no less than my great parents; dad, who has seen and experienced hardships I cannot imagine, taught me to be strong, independent and tough, and mom balanced it out by  pouring her soul out and teaching me to be good, forgiving, patient, loving and compassionate.

My mom’s words are enough to calm my nerves whenever I feel sad, scared and stressed. Her comforting words work like magic, taking away the heavy feeling in an instant. Her warmth made me warm and her love taught me how to love, no holds barred and without condition. Her smiles, words of wisdom and prayers are my beacons in the dark.

Her prayers are very powerful, it healed me,

it turned the table upside down and changed me.

Her face radiates beauty, calmness and peace,

anyone who’d look at her would feel at ease.

She is small and petite, yet her heart is so big.

She emanates so much warmth that all resentment, animosity and hatred

I’ve harbored and ever felt in the past melted.

And when I asked her how she was able to manage it all,

she smiled and said “you just have to put God first above all”.

She is an angel.

Her name befits her.

She is DIVINE.

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.Happy Mothers Day!

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All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother -Abraham Lincoln