My mother died of profuse bleeding
22 years ago while undergoing a diagnostic operation. Today, my mother would have turned 73. Though she had left us 21 years ago, I can
still vividly imagine her beautiful face, her gracious ways, her loving touch.
My mother died in a freak medical accident and even today, thinking about her
untimely death brings a tinge of pain in my heart. She was just 50 at the time
of her death. My siblings and I were all barely in our teens, in the awkward,
difficult stage called adolescence. It was a really bad time for her to go.
Mama was a career woman at a time when careers were not even called as such.
She practically raised us -- six siblings -- single-handedly when our father
went into some sort of self-exile after his arrest during the Martial Law
years. Mama was working as a registrar and later on, finance officer, of the
only Catholic school in our town. On the side, she was an Avon franchise
dealer, a Tupperware lady and at the same time, running our farm. On weekends,
she would either be leading the affairs in our diocese or holding relief
operations somewhere. And she was raising six children!
It amazes me no end looking back at how our mother managed to juggle
motherhood, career, side-lines, civic work, religious duties all at the same
time. To think that she would never miss checking on us week by week in school.
She was the only mother who would do parent-teacher consultation when hands-on
parenting was not yet coined.
In the evenings before we would go to bed, she would marvel us with stories of
the war-times -- how the Japanese took their home and turned it into a
garrison, her encounters with "santelmo's" (St. Elmo's fire), her
family back in the Occidental side of Negros, and our lola's "third
eye" and her encounters with dwende's and spirits. We would all be
shrieking at the horror stories but nevertheless, we would beg her to tell the stories
over and over again.
Mama almost never got sick. The only time I remembered her getting sick was
when she came home from Dumaguete, then about five to six hours drive from our
town. She probably got too tired from the travel.
It came as a shock to everyone in our town, especially us, when she died while
undergoing minor surgery. Unknown to us, she had a rare bleeding disorder,
which unfortunately, my daughter Star and I inherited. (Which is another
story.)
Our life turned upside down when Mama died. Suddenly, our home was never the
same again. The orderliness of our mother. (She was definitely OC!) The
discipline. The gentle reminders. The hugs and kisses. Suddenly the center of
our lives, who put all of us in our right places, was gone. I supposed all of
us siblings, and even our father, questioned God why. Why was she gone so soon?
She was the best mother any child could ask for. I don't think I am even close
to her as a super mom.
Thankfully, God knows the best timing. He took our mother after she had
instilled the right discipline in each one of us. If God took her earlier, we
would all have been ill-prepared. But if He took her later, we would probably
have lost both our parents. Because a few months after her death, our home was
bombed, and the shrapnels landed mostly in our parents' room. Since Mama's
death, our father stopped sleeping in their bedroom. But had she been alive,
she and Papa would have died a brutal death. Truly, God has a reason for
everything.
What I am today as a mother and as a wife, I mostly attribute to my own mother.
She, who patiently read me bedtime stories amidst candlelight. (Electricity was
only until 8pm then.) And I have five other siblings she would also put to
sleep. She, who taught me mostly what I know -- from household chores to
survival tips. She, who taught us to care for others. And most especially, she
who taught us to love God with all of our hearts, mind and soul.
Mama might not be perfect. But she was the best. I might not be the best
daughter to her. But I'm sure she would be proud of where I am today. Of how my
siblings and I have turned into. And we would never have been where we are
today if not for her. I praise and thank God for giving us nobody less than
her.
* * *
Most Inspirational writing of a daughter's
admiration of her mother
Andrea tells of her mother dying of profuse bleeding, due to a rare
bleeding disorder. She later finds out that she (Andrea) and her daughter both
share the same rare bleeding disorder. She shares the amazing accomplishments
of her mother who simultaneously juggled motherhood, career, civic work and
religious duties and by acknowledging her mother's strengths, she pursues these
same attributes to guide her life's path.
