Mindful musings
Christmas 2024 was truly a struggle to overcome. It was bittersweet and emotionally challenging since it was my first Christmas without my mom. She passed on 13 days before the Yuletide air could ring with greetings of “Merry Christmas.” Just as I had already fixed my schedule to spend the holidays with her at our small getaway farm in Laguna. Her passing ushered in a mix of feelings – sadness, longing, and even moments of joy. She was the “wind beneath my wings,” my rock when failures weakened my being, my cheerleader even in my smallest triumphs, my warm nest when I needed solace and a warm hug. She was everything to me – that stern yet extremely loving figure I looked up to. Friends and associates who know me would often hear me saying, “Sabi nga ng mama ko…” and I’d go on to share that life quote.
I recall the days when I was still in grade school when she would tag me and my sibling brother along to travel to the most remote places in far flung provinces to conduct her medical missions. She was a family physician. Places where sun-kissed children greeted us as they flashed their teeth in candid smiles, and extended their small hands to briefly give us hugs while they guided us to the roughly made chairs and a table for the boxes of medicines we brought with us. Back in the days, we didn’t have a nurse nor a health worker to assist us. She did the taking of vital signs, consultations, prescription, and distribution of free medicines, while I handled the registration. Meanwhile, my brother played with the other kids to keep them busy so they don’t run around and meddle too much during the mission. Barrio folks loved her. We shared simple meals of fried fish, scrambled eggs or whatever they could cook to convey their gratitude. At times when the site was reachable by land and she drove to get there, we brought home fruits, eggs, their local produce mostly potatoes and squash, or whatever they could give us as tokens of their appreciation after having been attended to by mom.
Dad on the other hand, was a tenacious businessman who tried everything he could to provide for the family which my mom fully supported.
Reminiscing the past with her gives me comfort in celebrating her memory. whether it’s through stories, lighting a candle, praying the rosary before our 5-feet altar shrine, hearing mass at the Our Lady of Lourdes Church in Quezon City, or reliving some of the family traditions that she cherished. Barely 3 weeks after her demise, I find tranquility in honoring her presence in my life, as I navigate the new reality of family gatherings without that warm and loving embrace each Christmas and New Year’s Eve or just candid conversations with her while perched on the floor beside our holiday tree.
When my lone sibling went missing in 1991, I recall watching her wait by the door for a good number of years, hoping and praying that he would soon come home, but yes, life is not fair. This life test she took on with courage, hope and strong faith in God’s will despite the psychological and emotional challenge she had to face.
Even at age 85, she still visited the barrios where she held her medical missions, then already assisted by her “amigas” who were also the barangay health workers. She was 91 when that debilitating fall caused her health to swiftly weaken her until she could no longer stand and walk without assistance. Her final years were on a cot at the farm where I visited her as much as I possibly could to bring her favorite mocha cake and ube ice cream, while I lay down beside her and listened to her stories during the Japanese and American times in the Philippines. She would have been 94 on January 26.
Families of her patients and those who have travelled far from her former medical mission sites weeped during her wake, sharing stories of my mom’s significant roles and contributions in their lives. These were narratives that she never spoke of nor bragged about. Stories of her love and compassion for the underprivileged prevailed during the wake, consuming rolls of tissues and eliciting comforting hugs from the lot.
Ultimately, it is truly important to acknowledge one’s feelings and to take care of oneself as we process grief differently. My mom frequently said to me, “Anak, when I am gone, ang bilin ko, wear bright colors not black. I want you to celebrate the new life I will enter when I die.” Then she would continue by saying, “I will always be with you in spirit. I will always be here,” (pointing to my left chest where the heart is).
My dear readers, especially those whose parents are still alive, cherish them, respect them, love them with all your being, because one day, they will no longer be with you and it’ll cut through you and hurt sooooooo much.
Let us start the new year filled with love, compassion for others, kindness and forgiveness (albeit sometimes with much difficulty).
Have a blessed and prosperous new year!
Love and light,
Iamempress22