I have never been a fan of dates and important calendar events. I have accustomed to work with the days and time I have to celebrate moments of life. Hence, I don’t want to remember just the date, I want to keep in memory a picture of the moment, the way it felt, how the wind tasted, how my heart fell, how tears fell down my cheeks, how my eyes looked the moment and how my mind reacted.
They call today as Mother’s Day. My Facebook feed was flooded by mother’s day greetings and the like. My ears almost bleed hearing all those greetings and cheers. I kept on receiving sms telling to send those greetings to my mother. I’m not bitter obviously about mother’s day because I don’t have (technically an alive) mother. I’m bitter in a way that, I want people to realize that appreciation for their mothers should be everyday.
I didn’t have that. I only got 10 years to celebrate. I probably mumbled “Happy Mother’s Day” around 6 times, in which I bet half of them were barely pronounced right. Rest of the years were wasted with unheard thoughts and fake “happy” greetings. What’s there for me to celebrate?
4-Years Apart
I came from a week long field work. Every single bone in my body shouts for pain and my brain endlessly requesting for some good sleep. Not to mention being annoyed by the delayed flight back to Manila. Waiting obviously is not my talent. I got on a bus to endure another 3-hour travel to home. Not totally thrilled for mother’s day, but just plain happy to be home and get some sleep. I was sitting beside a lady fairly in her 30s and her roughly 8-year old kid. They were very noisy and busy with their conversation about their life happenings and the like. I just ignored them, minded my own little world and sat quietly. But their story never seemed to end. That I have almost knew everything about their life. I start to wonder why they are telling these stories inside this poor overcrowded bus. Didn’t they have all the time in the world?
Like me, they didn’t.
Learning thru their conversations, the lady send off her child to Zamboanga for a more convenient life. She was explaining to her child and totally felt sorry about the 4-years she was gone. What punched me was when she mentioned “I even brought IDs and documents as a proof I am your mother just in case you won’t accept me. I was anxious to see you. I was afraid you won’t remember me. Four years away from you was too long and was just painful to bear. I’m glad you still know me.” As I don’t want to cry inside the bus, after that quick punch in the heart, I looked at them, smiled at her and the words “Happy Mother’s day po” voluntarily came out my mouth. It was the sincerest greeting that I uttered. The wind smelled sweet out of my bitter heart, the moment in the middle of chaos felt right as my heart cries with punch, my mind felt easy and pushed my Broca to be kind enough and release those words.
The lady uttered “Wow, I barely remembered it’s mother’s day. I just remember this is the day I’ll have my kid back.”
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Dates are important, celebrations and the like. But I don’t want to remember just the date, I want to keep in memory a picture of the moment, the way it felt, how the wind tasted, how my heart fell, how tears fell down my cheeks, how my eyes looked the moment and how my mind reacted. Repetition of greetings loses it’s sincerity and importance. I uttered that 1 sincere greeting already to a mom that waited for 4-years to get her life back. (Sorry but) I’m not greeting anybody of you a happy mother’s day again as I also realize that everyday mothers give in their love for their children — more than the celebration of motherhood, more than the celebration of their lives. But I am wishing all mothers a happy, healthy extended life, so that heartless strangers like me shall learn more about life and finally give into it and finally learn to get a mother back.
May 12th, life punched hard to my heart. But I have learned enough to fight and just accept what it has. /#claricesarao
