Last May thirteenth, Sunday, it was Mother’s Day. To me, it was just like any other day where people just have a closer look at mothers all over. Or maybe, for children like me, it’s the day where we are pretty much obliged unto doing the dishes… the chore we hate the most. But that Mother’s Day was the most different from all the Mother’s Days I’ve celebrated my whole existence, because it was the day, I learned more unto who my mother was, before she became a mother. Of course, all this in courtesy of the mother of my mother.
It all started when me, my older brother, an aunt and my grandma were sitting in a local fast food restaurant. I had this question about my mother I just had to ask her, while she was still… there. You never know, I might not ever get such an opportunity to ask her my question. So I frankly asked her,
“How did you feel when you learned Mom was pregnant?”
Yes, it was quite frank of me to ask my aged grandmother such a question, especially with the history the maternal side of the family had. There was always the issue of getting one pregnant, before a formal marriage. Wedlock could be the term. And it ran like a curse to all my grandmother’s children. But not all of them, hopefully.
Anyway, going back to the question, I anticipated her answer. Of course, she was saddened, and she and my mother had the “talk” on what happened, and what will happen. My mother cried that time, but she knew she was going to take responsibility for all that’s happened.
My grandmother also emphasized her perspective, impression rather, on my father back then. My father was notorious on being a “playboy” and a breaker of hearts. Of course my grandmother did not want my mother just to get hurt from my father, especially with all the rumors going on with him. Same went for my grandfather, even threatening my father of shooting him with a gun if he did not take care of my mother. Of course it is quite a joke to my grandmother, because my father always has two guns under his jacket and was renowned for being a sharp shooter, and my grandfather did not stand a chance to such a man.
It was only then I realized my father was the bad guy. My mother was a good and responsible daughter, an intelligent woman who finished a degree in state university, a caring sister, and all that to be ‘destroyed’ by getting pregnant through my father. But still, they took responsibility for the child, my eldest brother. And they managed, and are still managing, because I’m right here. We’re five siblings, and add my parents. Yeah, it’s quite a family and we’re good.
I just couldn’t forget my grandmother, as she described my mother. She was a really good daughter. Grandma said that one time, Mom had a Girl Scout trip to some mountain, but then overheard that there was nothing to eat, she gave up all the money meant for the trip for their dinner. Another one is that, she’s really a caring sister. My grandmother can see in her the love she gives out to all her siblings, always budgeting her salary to be able to help all of her siblings’ education and other needs. And grandma said she can’t bear to see the woman who left my uncle, making him a single parent to their child. My grandma says its because my mom can’t bear to see the face of the woman who hurt her sibling. She was unforgivable to her.
I won’t forget my grandmother’s stories on my mom. And after asking her that, I don’t regret anything. Well, except for the part on making her cry on recollecting all those stories on my mom. Grandma actually said more, but I can’t bear to type them all in here. It feels like divulging information I’m not supposed to.
With all this, I have an increased admiration for my mother. Thanks to my grandmother, I learned a side of my mother I could have never known. All the things I learned makes me want to brag that hey, she managed, can’t you? can’t I?
As an artist that I am, I’d love to write her a poem or drawing for Mother’s Day. But not this year. This year is different, because Mother’s Day is beyond the gifts of appreciation you give. It’s the happiness.
Nah, I can’t resist it. I’ve got to write a Mother’s Day poem!
What's In My Mind... 