Behind the facade of calmness even under intense pressure of work and service to my chosen Catholic community is the grieving man, if age is the sole barometer of being a man.
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Yes, in succession, I (and we), lost two women that were part of my life. First, when we lost my mother-in-law, Florencia, a year ago. And then second, and just recently, my very own mother, Perfecta. Both came so unexpectedly, no inkling, no notice. That is part of life, we can say. But for me, losing a maternal mother after my father went ahead years ago puts us siblings on our own selves to mend, determine, and track our own very lives,
our own families. We lost already an icon to look upon every time we are bewildered by the harsh reality of life. Never mind whether she is old and fickle-minded or agkabaw already, than seeing her laid to rest. I poured it all after they have sealed the last opening, losing sight of her, completely.
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These two ladies in my life, apart from my partner in life, my Dolly, kept me above ground always. And I salute all women who sacrificed a lot for their children and family. My heart is with you all.
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It is not yet late to give honor and tribute to a woman of our lives. In fact timing is not an issue because any time you can do it. It is not even anti-climactic simply because their special day was supposed to be the day marked for all mothers or women. It is my firm belief that the special day for them must be daily provided they are alive. Daily as they live for them to hear and feel the warmth of our love and affection that is just being returned. For when do you think should be the best time to do it? When they are gone forever? Yes, if not have been so frayed. It had certainly seen much use and better times. I preferred to believe it was bought at the city’s “wag-wagan,” by a mother or father who could hardly buy new shirts for themselves on meager pay. Maybe the jacket was given to a son or daughter as Christmas present or lately, a New Year’s present. It must have cost the parents quite a sum, but no matter. The jacket would have fitted the boy or girl. And so what if the jacket looked a size too big for them? The parents would have never admitted it. I could almost see the children’s faces lighting up the way my parents’ faces lit whenever they bought me something in the old days. “Ay, ay, gwapo toy anak ko ah, “they would say, in contrast to my childhood playmates who kept reminding me whenever we played sipa or tumba de lata that I was the neighborhood’s ugliest kid with the thickest of lips and flat nose like ply wood. Staring at the jacket, I wondered about the boy or girl who owned it. Had they grown up? Were they brave, strong and true? I wondered where all the years went since they last wore the jacket. I thought I spotted them, somewhere back, trekking to their grade classes
in rubber slippers or shoes, T-shirt and that jacket. you have not yet honoured your mother, this is the best time. Itat-tan!
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My mother of good order, as she has always been (good order in a sense that she wants all she does in the house to be orderly), has not changed in her style ever since I had the sense to observe what she does best in our home when I was still a kid. You see I am the youngest of ten siblings. For so many years until I was born she does the household
chores, cooking, going to the market, fixing the house, washing the clothes, and ensuring that all our needs specially the needs of my late father who painstakingly till the land the entire day until sundown. I did not mention sun up because my father goes to the farm in the wee hours of the morning and not during sun up only. And so my mother has to prepare quick rice coffee and something to eat like ‘kinirog nga kilabban’ and what have you My mother does not allow my father to leave the house without taking in something first. In doing so, she has to rise earlier than my
father to prepare. I pity her because among us in the previous night she has to fix everything before going to bed and she hits the bed last and then rise first the following day. Whew!
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Why do I know this? It happened one early morning when I suddenly woke up to urinate. I usually do that while in bed sleeping. You know, part of growing up, right! Naangseg aya! I saw that somebody is already up and doing something in our cramped and small kitchen. My mother is cooking something. While cooking she fixes other things that was not fixed the day before. She also sweeps the floor and drying up some utensils. She does it nary any sound created. She does it so gently and slowly so that no sound can be produced. She wants that we will not be awakened in our sleeps. I realized that the thing ‘multi-skill’ work had been practiced by my mother many years before and I just learned that when I was employed in our company. By the time we are awake where the sun is already up and shining, our rice coffee and simple breakfast is ready. Oh, I love that egg omelette very thinly cooked in that black frying pan like the size of a large pizza. And that is only one or two eggs from our native chickens. My mother has
to economize and cook the egg spread very thinly so that we have a bigger pie size to share. The bigger the size, the
bigger the share! Nag-imas topay! Today, we are not contented with just two or three eggs to be consumed by just
only one person! Rimmawet kayo kadi?
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On the other hand, when I started to hit the school, you know my school is just a stone-throw away from our house just across the national highway. I can hear the sound of the bell to signal the flag ceremony. I recall that before the bell is sounded, my mother and I were sitting on an old but sturdy bamboo bench while looking at the pupils rushing to school. There my mother teaches me to read my Mona and Tiririt books. For those who cannot remember this story, Mona is that little cow and Tiririt is that young bird. And I just love them that I can still remember their names up to this time. I am longing though to see an old textbook of Mona and Tiririt. Yes, my mother wants me to read the story very loud that we can hear it both clearly. That was the start of my training in reading.
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As we become bigger in the family, I mean we grow very fast, of course we need so much to spend for our schooling and household needs. The farm output was not that enticing and not enough to sustain us. My father and mother decided to venture into a small income generating activity – buying and selling coconut products. This is ready available because our area was lined up with so many coconut trees. This time, not a single tree is there. They succumbed to the great and destructive ‘barrairong.’ All the coconut trees in our place were helpless to kind of pest/insect. My mother is always on the go looking for sources of coconut products. We sell young coconut fruits which we usually eat fresh, as well as old ones that was usually used to cooked delicacies and source of oil. We also sell stick broom and coconut husks for floor scrubbing. As a young boy, I tag along with my mother when we go to Bauang, La Union to sell our stuff. When we go home, we have already our groceries. My mother will buy one fourth kilo of pure meat and one fourth kilo of bones and then she will ask for a free blood for dinuguan fiesta in our house. My other siblings would then be ready of any extender to our dinuguan (dinardaraan), either cassava (kamoteng kahoy) or upo since we always have those in our little farm. And life was just so simple and happy then. All made possible by my hardworking mother!
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And to the mothers of our own respective families, we thank you for coming to our lives and be the mother of our children, together we carry our families towards tomorrow believing that the Lord shall always bless it in any way according to His will and plan. We salute you all mothers for your love, affection, hardship, sacrifice, and dedication
for us. Mabuhay kayong lahat!
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Let me greet you all a Happy Christmas and Merry New Year! Stay safe always!!!