Mother's Day 2015

The first week of May I suddenly had the urge to visit the light of my life and I knew better than ignore the call. I always believe in following the dictates of the heart even if reason is against it. 

So I visited her and was aghast at how thin she is now. She looked so much like an aunt who thinned down a lot despite being a huge eater. And now both sport the same short haircut. The first thing her niece who is now taking care of her said to me is that she is dying.

I am not surprised, but it felt sad hearing that from another person. I learned that her body developed four cancer types: breast, stomach, lungs, and bone. I am not surprised. I have long suspected that cancer has spread and I have begun suspecting she has stomach cancer when she started everything she ingests.

I can still remember the stories they told me when I arrived from my second Pulag climb in January this year. My sisters, mom, and the Light all went to Quirino Grand Stand to join the massive crowd that welcomed Pope Francis. One of my sisters almost fainted so she just spent the rest of the day at a Starbucks café while the three drowned in the sea of people hoping to catch a glimpse of the Pope. They say they walked quite a distance from where they parked the car. The heavens even rained hard on them but their faith kept them out in the open.

A week after that, on the last week of January, we received news of her daughter's death. She traveled a long distance, 12 hours at least, to get to her daughter's wake and arrange for the funeral. While in the province, we would hear about how stressed she is because apparently the family of her daughter's husband is trying to get her money using her daughter's death as justification. I just couldn't believe that people like that exist! Even the Light's natural grandchildren do not care for her and only remember her when they need money.

I knew from back then that in case she is retiring I will cut her off from these beasts and will provide for her. Unfortunately the diseases came like a swift ambush in the night. She grew quiet and pensive when she got back, refusing to eat most times and preferring to stay inside her room. Depression must have crept in at the loss of her only daughter. But we, my sisters and I couldn't break in. She built a barrier around herself that's too hard to penetrate. Sweet talk won't even work.

But because nobody's home most of the time and everybody else is busy, we were relieved to hear that a relative, her niece, is willing to take her in. The Light's eldest grandson came to Manila and we assumed he would take care of his lola while the two lived in the Light's niece's house. We even gave him some money as allowance before we parted ways, driving the Light with him to the niece's house. The following day, we were shocked beyond words that this grandson packed his bags and left for his province, despite the Light's pleas not to leave her. 

I cannot fathom how people can be this cruel. I cannot help but judge. It breaks my heart knowing this, for I know how deeply hurt she is at this final betrayal. Her grandchildren who never even sent SMS to her on her birthday and only do so when they ask for money which their grandmother would send to them, these same grandchildren whom I even once said to myself that I will help send to school when the Light retires (but now I am retracting after seeing this evil)... I do not know how they were raised by their parents. It angers me to see them so ungrateful and so oblivious of the many sacrifices their lola has gone through for them.

Her sad story, a cautionary tale, makes me cry everytime I remember the events that lead to the day of our separation. It felt unfair to be unable to do something for the one you love and all you can do is to cry, as if tears can do something to make the situation better. 

As I gently touched her on my last visit, ever so gently for fear I do harm on her fragile body, I had to fight hard not to cry. At this point the last thing I want is for her to see me cry. She's seen me cry far too many times all these years and I wouldn't want her to get stressed with me now.So I had to leave early, lest tears flow freely and unable to stop.

The days leading to Mother's Day saw me looking for the photos of us together. There is one photo in particular which I love: the one wherein she wore a fashionable dress in way back in late 80s and holding me on the table. She looked like a mother to me in that photo. But I failed to find it. (Just how useless can I get?)

So I will just try to remember the other details and hopefully sketch the photo from memory.