It's mother's day and what better time to tell the world about the mother who is responsible for bringing me to this world.
My mother stands at only 4 feet and 10 inches, but she packs more courage, resilience, enthusiasm and probably more balls than any two-legged able-bodied being that I know in this planet.
She was born and raised in a remotely situated farmland in Bohol. Her father is a farmer who practices quack medicine. Her mother was a pure-bred Spanish senorita who's facial aesthetics remind me that of Sophia Loren's.
My mother inherited more of her father's physical features--short, dark-skinned, flat nose, dark eyes instead of her mother's meztiza looks.
At age 11, my mother was forced to abandon school due to a family crisis. Her mother needed a colon surgery, thus, being the oldest among 6 siblings she had no choice but to pick up slack to make ends meet.
She travelled to a different island in the Philippines with the hope of finding a better means of earning a living, abandoning school and abandoning her childhood.
Unequipped with any working experience, she ended up working as a seamstress in a tailor's shop, learning the tricks and techniques on her own without a mentor, and forcing her way into a newly acquired skill, all out of desperation and necessity.
It would be a tale that she would proudly share to her children years later--a tale of how she supported her family when she was supposed to be only a grade-school kid.
My mother, conceived nine children, all in all in her marriage. One ended up in miscarriage and one died while still an infant. But she managed to raise seven of us, seven totally different beings who managed to pierce her heart with sorrow at some point in her life. I'm sure, I had at some point made her cry. She cried her heart out, when she learned that I was one of the victims in a vehicular accident. She looked up to the heavens on her knees, begging from the Gods to let me be alive.
My mother taught me independence at a young age, by giving me the responsibility of overseeing my younger siblings.
She taught me how to cook at age 5 when she would let me perch on a high chair as she skillfully whip a tasty egg omelet in the skillet or concoct a hearty and filling dish over a wood-burning stove.
She made me experience life's harsh realities at an early age when she would send me to collect payments from nasty bitches who felt that they had every right to yell at a helpless child sent by her mother for an errand.
My mother taught me to look out for myself at a young age because she was busy taking care of the younger ones in the family and as well as working a living to bring food to the table.
My mother is very religious, thus, I grew up paying attention to my faith, religion, and God.
My mother knew when to punish me when I did wrong.
She was my cheering squad when I used to compete in academic contests. She proudly collected all of my medals that I bagged home from different inter school quiz bee contests.
My mother taught me the virtue of humility and the resolve to persevere during hard times. After all being raised in a poor family was constantly a test of perseverance.
My mother is special. She has a hearing problem. When we talk to her she always gives her undivided attention because she wants to understand what we are trying to tell her.
The one most important thing that my mother taught me is the value of education. Poor as we were, she never failed to remind us to do well with our studies and pursue our education with excellence. In fact the fruit of her labor came when she didn't have to pay a dime for us to go to college to obtain a degree. By her constant inspiration, my older sister and I were granted full scholarships to universities of our own choosing.
That's a legacy she chose to inculcate into her children and her children's children--to get a good grip at educating ourselves because education is the one thing we can have that can never be stolen away from us.
Today at past the age of 60, my mother still has a full zest for life; she's still very animated; has a cheerful composure and still has that nurturing spirit towards her children and grandchildren.
One thing I know is that in the wee hours of the morning, my mother would get up, and on bended knees, utter her morning prayers for the blessing of her children who are miles away from her but are constantly treasured inside her heart.
To my wonderful mother, thank you.
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