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Mom

Today is my mom's birthday.


I called home to greet her. Being away from them for months now, I am still tortured by pangs of loneliness and emptiness. This is the first time that I was away during her birthday. It saddens me to think that I am not part of this day and be with her. As I talked to her, Dad, my cousins and friends who were there to celebrate with her, I am enveloped with sadness. Birthdays are the time when the family gets together. It is the day when you express your appreciation, gratitude and love to the person. We may not show it or say it, but they know that you do care for them.


My mother is a significant person in my life. Not because she is my mother but because she becomes the person you would like to be with when things go right or wrong. She understands my needs, my weaknessess, my strengths, my limitations. Though she may not totally know the son she has nurtured and brought with so much love and attention into this world, she fully is aware that I have my own world and that my existence is substantiated by her love and great concern for me.


As a son, I know my mother. She tells me of things she feels and thinks. We talk of ideas, of insights, of realizations. We both love to read. We both belong to OCDS. We are both active with church activities. We share common interests.


She knows what food I like and I don't like, the color of shirts I wear, my tantrums, my childishness. She knows what I am made of.


As I grow up and be the person that I am now, she has always been there for me. With Dad, I am guided into a world they know is best for me. I have to admit that there were times that I don't understand why they do the things they do. Then, I tend to be stubborn or rebellious. I just thought they never wanted me to be happy. Thankful as I am that I never smoke, or drink, or fancy night life or lavishness. Late have I realized that what was their seeming overprotectiveness will do me good later in life. I become a person that I am.


My mom is also my doctor. Afflicted with asthma at a very young age, I grew up with it. Through pains and difficulties, she was beside me. Whenever I was having an attack, my mother would be troubled as if she does not know what to do even if she is a doctor herself. I know she worries about me a lot. Each time I have bouts of asthma, she has sleepless nights. She feels the difficulties I am going through. Each time I have to struggle with breathing, she looks at me with tender motherly love. In her mind, I know she was asking herself how would I survive being alone. She would tell me how would I eat since I do not know how to cook, who would wash and iron my clothes, among other things. Yes, I never know household chores. But now, everything is well taken care of. Worry not, life has to take its turn. I have to be part of what is going on...I have to adapt to change.


I do not know if I am the son you expect me to be. I do not know if I am the person you want me to be. I know that somehow you are frustrated about me. I am not a doctor like you are, or an engineer, or a lawyer.


I am a teacher.


But I would like you to know that whatever I do, whoever I may be...I become the person that I am because I do it for you. I do it for love of you and Dad.


Because I like you to be proud of me, the first son you gave birth into this world during that first fateful day of August when the world shook and crumbled down to its knees.


Happy birthday, Mommy. I may not be with you now but I always think of you. I want you to know that I appreciate the life you have shared with me, the sacrifices, the dreams you have to give up for my sake.


Mom and Dad. I love you.
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