Just a few minutes ago my officemate Trina and I were just talking about how funny I look on the photo I posted on Facebook. I grabbed that photo from an old friend’s wall and it was taken probably when I was just 3 years old. I made that as my profile pic as I was with my mom in the photo and since it was Mother’s Day last Sunday.
And then I felt a tear falling down my eyes again…
From my Heart to Facebook
Wow. First note in Facebook. Feels weird, coz I am no writer, nor a blogger. My vocabulary needs some help from Wordweb to look for complex words and to make my write-up more exciting to read. I envy my batchmates and friends who are very good in writing. I realized through them that the link to good writing is reading because those friends of mine are book lovers. Not me. I have only read more or less 10 books in my life, on top of the books from school, and including Sweet Valley High. Hehe. But I guess, though I don’t have that love for reading, the love for music may have helped me to kind of create a sensible piece of art using words.
As far as I can remember, the last time that I poured my hearts out in writing was in my fourth year college, where our prof required us to submit an article for the School of Accountancy’s newsletter. So in short, my artistic sense in writing have gradually waned from years of non-practice. I remember I entitled that article “Fate or Faith”. And would you imagine, it’s about the Accountancy Course and how I managed to pass it. Haha. Funny, you may think, but I loved it. My professor thought that I could be an Editor-in-Chief, but due to lack of confidence, and my pessimistic behavior of always thinking that some successes I achieve in life may just be a fluke (added by the fact that I hate big responsibilities),I declined. After that, all of the writings I’ve done are walkthrough documents, and management letters, (not to mention nonsense posts on Facebook). And then now. After 6 years, here I am, writing again. But this time, not handwritten in yellow paper, not checking interview notes, not checking the margins and grammar. This time, it’s just my fingers striking the keyboard, and my heart.
Today is my mom’s birthday. This note I dedicate to her. I love my mom so much I want to include her name in my future children’s names. Probably just change the spelling or whatever, as long it sounds like “Flor”. I even used her birthdate as my mobile phone number. For my family and close friends, they know that both of my parents have already passed away. And of course, you, now who have the curiosity and luxury of time reading this note. My mom should have been 65 today, retired from years of teaching at Dagatan Elementary School and scolding 6th grader kids whose stubbornness-level are as high as the stratosphere, resting at our humble home, cooking an almost-perfect leche flan, or preparing my brother’s things for school. But it has been 10 years since her death, and the only thing left of her are just the memories when she was alive.
She’s the best teacher though I didn’t have the chance to be her student. She’s the reason why I didn’t want to study far from home though she wanted me to take upcat. She’s not perfect but for me she’s the best mother. She’s my hero. She’s my idol. I envy my friends who have their mothers supporting their careers, and taking good care of them. I always wished that my mom was present on my debut, college graduation and oath taking. I wished that I gave her my first salary from SGV. I wished that I have treated her for a tour abroad. I wished that she knew how to send text messages and always text me to go home on weekends and remind me to go home early everyday, scold me for being late, or not eating right. I wished that when I go home, she’s waiting from our terrace, and then I will hand-over my pasalubong. But they are all just wishes. The only and greatest wish that I am still holding up to now is my wish that she’s in heaven. I don’t know if she really got saved before she died and if she’s in heaven right now, but I wish that if she’s there, she’ll recognize me and welcome me with a tight embrace when I also get to that place. The pain of her death still lingers and I still think of her from time to time, but I have learned to move on and accept the fact that I do not have a mother anymore. Her death became an instrument for me to become stronger. It sparked the start of a new chapter in my life and in my family.
Ten years may have been long but time wouldn’t really heal. It will just aid you to accept things. I praise God that despite the heartaches, downs, challenges, losses and pains, He provides strength and courage. I thank the Lord that he gives rest to those who are heavily laden and to those who puts their weight to God’s arm. As I tread to the rocky road of life, I know God will always be there to be my guide and shepherd. Life is unfair but is still good, as Regina Brett says. And life is good because God is good to us.
To those people who still have their mothers, I pray that they could show their love to their moms while they’re alive. Life is short, as we all know it. Make every second count.
Have a happy weekend everyone!