Beyond this lifetime (a mother's love part 2 / maui experience 4th installment)

Maui, Hawaii. They say what happens in Vegas - well, in my case, Hawaii - stays in Hawaii. I'm going to tell you anyway.

A year has passed since my vacay in Hawaii. The few family and friends who knew of my travel plans wished me one thing - that I find Mr. Right (or rather Mr. Right Now) or that he find me, whichever comes first. They were clear and specific and adamant about it.

My life mentor's wish for me, however, was more...cryptic. Double-edged, if you will. Prophetic even. In her e-mail, she wrote, "May you find what you're looking for..." I knew she meant something (or someone) else but what I found was more than what I bargained for. Her wish was a prayer answered...

It was a gloriously sunny day, like most days, in Maui. And like most days during my two-week vacay, I went for runs along the sloping streets of the gated community in Wailuku. That day, however, I went for a long, slow walk with Inang.

Inang was my "Tita" Tessie's mother. Family called her Mamang but I called her Inang. She was old and skinny and wrinkly and forgot things, like most old folks. But she was such a sweet granny. When we're left alone in the house, we'd share long talks - well, she'd usually do all the talking mostly about her life during the war, her Japanese father, growing up and her family.

That day, as I geared up for my daily run, I saw Inang looking on so I asked her if she wanted to join me for a walk. With a smile that brightened the room, she readily agreed and hurriedly went to her room to change.

As I went out of the house to wait, I wondered if Inang was the reason I was led to Hawaii. I uttered a short prayer and asked God, "Lord, is SHE mommy? Will I get a chance to do things with mom, through Inang, that I wanted and would've and could've and should've done with her? Will I get a chance to hold mom one last time? Will I get to know if she has forgiven me? If she even knew how I cared for her?"

The moment I whispered my last bit of prayer, I saw Inang coming out of the house with long purposeful strides towards me. She came to a stop right before me, looked me in the eye and said, "Anak, salamat ha...salamat sa pagalaga mo sa 'kin." It was my mom. And with those simple words, she gave me what I needed. Atonement. Absolution. Forgiveness.

I choked back tears. A lump formed in my throat and I couldn't speak. Arm in arm, Inang...or was it Mom...and I went on to what was to become our routine - long, slow walks along the streets of that small community in Maui.

No, I didn't find Mr. Right (Now)...I found something better...more than I bargained for...more than I deserved. I found what I was looking for. I found healing.

I told only three people about this when I got back from my trip - my sister, my life mentor and my spiritual teacher. I wanted to relish and cherish this amazing experience all to myself. But, after more than a year, I find myself still at awe at the remembrance of it, wanting to shout out God's ever merciful goodness and the force of a mother's love - beyond measure, beyond compare, beyond this lifetime.

John 14:27-28. 'I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives.. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father...

a mother's love

A mother's love is a force of nature to be reckoned with. It is unparalleled. Unequaled. Unbreakable. Beyond measure. And sometimes oh so funny.

I remember my first trip to the US of A many years back. I was in my early 20s and it was my first travel outside the country. My sister and mom had had their taste of vacation in the US and in Asia so I fully trusted whatever tips they had to give. No prodding or asking was necessary as far as my mom was concerned. She’d give her two cents’ worth of advice whether you liked it or not. And in my ignoramus state (as far as foreign travel), I hang on to my mom’s traveling tips as if it was a life saver.

My mom had all sorts of tips from luggage to clothes to food to money saving and what-have-yous. One of her very first and non-negotiable tips she insisted on was this: “buy panties with zippered pockets”.

I looked at her wide-eyed with disbelief. “MAY GANUN?” Apparently, there are. Granny panties with zippered pockets in front. Gosh! “What in the world do I need these for?” I asked.

Heaving a sigh of exasperation, my mom explained, “What else?” she started, “To put your dollars in.”

“HUWAAAT?” I exclaimed, still not believing she’d make my buy these granny panties. . . or worse, make me put my traveling money in them.

She did though… she made me buy the granny panties - five pairs in all, one for each day of the week. “Yipee!” I thought, “I’d get to wear regular panties on weekends!”. In case you’re wondering, I had them in black, white and pink. Let me ask something though - what’s worse than putting your dollars in your granny panties? It’s wrapping your dollars tight in a colorful, flower- embroidered handkerchief, that’s what! This surely gave a new meaning to the term “pocket money”.

I knew she just meant well, but “No way”, I thought. So being the obedient daughter that I was not, it was such a surprise that I gave in and wrapped my pocket money in a handkerchief and placed it in my granny panties. I did it to please her…hmmm, no, not really. I did it ‘coz I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it. So off to the airport I went with my pocket money, all intact and safe in the zippered pocket of my granny panties. It’s a wonder my jeans fit me at all.

It was a long travel and the “stash” kept poking my belly. So, while on board the plane en route to the US, I decided to take my pocket money out of its hiding place and put it in my jean pocket.

Good thing I placed my “stash” in my jean pocket – the Immigration Officer at the San Francisco airport asked me how much money I was bringing in and asked me to show it to her. “Whew” I let out a sigh of relief. But as I dug in my pocket I realized one thing – my “stash” was still wrapped tight in the hanky! In double knots at that! As I tried to loosen the knots, the Officer and those in line behind me looked curiously on. It was embarrassing, to say the least! So finally I was able to take the money out of the wrap and show it to the Officer. I moved out of the line and moved on with my life...my funny life with my mom.

I miss my mom terribly - her strange show of love and her out-of-this-world bits of advice.

Yes - a mother's love is a force to reckon with. Unparalleled. Unequaled. And sometimes oh so funny (or maybe it's just my mother's love that is sometimes funny).

on Eat, Pray, Love (part 1)

There has been much hype about this book, "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. When I first saw and heard the author's journey in an interview by Oprah, I knew I just had to get hold of the book. When friends just couldn't stop talking about it, my curiosity just got all the more piqued by it.

So get hold of the book I did. It usually takes me a day (or two) to finish such novels. But with this book, it's taking me forever! The book is divided in 3 sections, one for each country (and phase) she visited during her self-inquiry - starting with Italy (Eat), then India (Pray) and Indonesia (Love). I started more than a month ago and I'm still reading Italy!

Every page out of her life (at least in Italy) seems to be a page out of mine. I can't help but give in to flashes of pensive reflection on own past as she talks about hers. When she started her story and talked about being on the bathroom floor at 3 am, on her knees, praying, sobbing, I remembered moments when I was down on my knees, on the bathroom floor, sobbing quietly lest anyone hears me. Of course our sobs were for entirely different reasons - her for the death of her marriage; mine for the death of my mom. Many more such pages out of her life seem to mirror some of my own thoughts and adventures (but that's for another post).

Though some of our thoughts and experiences are alike, we cannot be more different people. Take her views on love and men for instance. She writes, "I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. . . . I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself . . . Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism.”

Whereas she is quick to love men, I tend to be a skeptic where men are concerned. I look hard, scrutinize, analyze, pore over and when I finally do decide to take a risk, that man, whoever he is, is long gone. But like her, I’ve had my share of heartaches and what she says about them is appeasing. I so loved it when, speaking of a broken heart, she says, “This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.”

As she traveled across the globe in search for answers, I looked back at my own recent travels and the answers I got from them. In retrospect, it seems I can't get passed "Eat, Pray", or more precisely and literally, "Pray, Eat"... as in "Pray" the prayer "Bless us Oh Lord and these thy gifts..." and "Eat" the gifts. I can't seem to get to the "Love" part.

And this thought led me to further introspection and a new dawning of understanding... that this is so NOT true. I've always had the "Love" part in my life. I need not go far to see or to feel it. In fact, I'm surrounded by it. Of course Liz (the author) talked of a different kind of love, but I have it and am surrounded by it, nonetheless. I am here because of and out of love. It's in the smiles and hugs and kisses and tears. It's in the laughter shared. It's in the answered prayers. It's in the unanswered prayers. It's in family and friends. It's in the "I-love-you's" I received in response to my "Blah, blah, blah" post. God's love shines so brightly through them. Need I ask for more?

Well... :-)

blah, blah, blah, blah

I remember a homily sometime ago, the priest asked us to say “love” every time he banged his hand on the podium. As his banging tempo increased, our chant “love love love love” soon sounded “blah blah blah blah” (go on, try it). His point: we ought to express our love.

Ouch! This is how I often am with family and friends – I don’t get to “walk the talk”. Come to think of it, I don’t even get to “talk” or say those precious words. I don’t know about you but I find it difficult to say the words (see…I can’t even write them). Why are we (or is it just me?) so reluctant to say them? Embarrassment? Fear of rejection or being vulnerable and hurt? We're so busy trying to protect ourselves we get too scared to take the risk. But love is a risky business.

I envy all those brave souls who are not afraid to risk it. Take my sister for instance. Her timing couldn't be more perfect. While I was writing this, she texted me just to say she loves me. Awww! Her efforts did not go for naught. Of course I texted her back. I said, "Thank you...but cash is better." hihihi

I remember my mom. Her days while she was sick were difficult for the family…that time certainly was most trying, emotionally and physically, for us. She was too weak so we dressed her, fed her, moved her to a comfortable position, lifted her so she could sit or so we could put her on her wheelchair. One time, she said to me that she hoped she got better soon so we wouldn’t have to be taking care of her. She was sick, she was in pain and all she thought of was relieving us of our “nursing duties”. It broke my heart. I hugged her and said that we were happy to take care of her…we were not happy that she was sick, but she had taken care of us and it was time that we gave back, it was our turn to take care of her. Taking care of her was backbreaking but I would do it (and more) all over again if given the chance. I said I loved her.

I wish I had expressed my love sooner. I wish we could have celebrated that love. I wish I was more patient with her and took better care of her. I wish I was a better daughter. I wish I wasn’t too late.

No matter what our relationship is with our family or with our friends, a word of love, appreciation or thanks or apology could spell the difference. Saying the words can be healing. Maybe not physically healing, but the words can heal wounds in relationships.

Life is short (as I have painfully learned) to waste our love on “blah blah blah”. Let's take a risk. I, for one, am going to risk it and express gratitude and love and appreciation TODAY. Tomorrow might never come. So... thank you!

letter to Mom (on the homecoming)

Dear Mom,

Where do I begin telling you what a great weekend I had at Stella Maris. I've been visiting the school, you know. I was gone for so long, I was afraid at first - but the gels have been welcoming in spite of the years in-between. These were the girls I grew up with. You would have loved seeing them again. Some of them remember you and were asking about you. It touched me and I so wished that you were here. I would have taken you to the homecoming and you would have had the time of your life!

When I made my first steps back into the gates of Stella, I couldn't describe how I felt. Mercy called it "coming home"...and I couldn't agree more. But it felt more than just coming home. I was simply at a loss for words - until I read Atty. Kristy's "Sweet Inspirations" article and she aptly described how I felt. Coming back to Stella was like feeling the deeply-missed embrace of a mother.... and I did feel your warm embrace and everything felt so right.

One time, Mina came to practice with her mom and I watched them talking quietly and intently. I envy her. I would have given anything to have you here for quiet and intent discussions. But our talks were never quiet, were they? They were loud and funny and fun. I miss our talks, your stories and and our fights. I would have loved telling you about our bloopers, my wonderful leaders, my friends, the changes in us and at the school, and the real and “reel” Si-Cats (SCs). I know you would have loved to have seen again Mela and Mercy and Roxanne and Teresa. It would have been more fun had Myra and Gaby and Sheila and Jong and Tetet and Joy joined us. I know you felt relieved that I made friends with such "good" girls. Well, if you only knew how "bad" they can be….

Being the “showbiz” that you were, you would have loved hearing about Nonong Pedero and the music he created for us. You certainly would have reeled with joy at hearing Anthony Castelo sing and seeing him bring the house down with the catchy dance song he rendered. You would have probably gone on stage to dance…no, cling to him and kiss him like crazy. And of course, you would have dropped your jaw at Mercy's song numbers. I remember how you gushed with awe at her singing during my birthday party.

I so loved the girls I grew up with. They never cease to amaze me. I just loved that we started the program with a short prayer at the backstage and ended the celebration with a prayer of thanks. My leaders worked sooooo hard at and for this, I am put to shame. They were relentless at giving their all - they planned, tracked down, piloted the course, raised funds, collected samu't sari stuff, created, sang, danced, cheered and pushed. Mostly they inspired and sailed us home.

Me? I was a PA – a Pretty Alalay and I was good at it, thank you very much! Although I did ruin Atty. Kristy's rug and floor. Oh, and I sang and danced a bit. You know how I dance and sing like I’m nuts? Well, that’s exactly what I did. Someone in the office said I looked like Lady Gaga when I strutted on stage. I totally disagreed - I was just plain gaga!

The tribute given to the teachers and nuns was so moving it brought people to tears. As the teachers were being honored, I gave my own silent tribute to my first and best teacher – you, Mom! I remember how you glared those big eyes of your in frustration as you tutored me the day’s lessons; how you scratched your head and gave a big loud sigh as you wondered if I was really your child – you, a Summa Cum Laude and UP scholar, expected to have a genius of a daughter. Well, heller, mom! You have… I just haven’t figured out yet where I’m a genius at.

More than the school subjects, you taught me the things that really matter most in life - God, family, friendship, love, truth, charity, integrity, service and forgiveness. I know how you and dad wanted what was good for me and Emily. I guess that's why you insisted we attended school at Stella Maris. Stella was good for us in so many ways!

I never got the chance to thank you for getting me into Stella. I guess I never really recognized how the school shaped my life nor have I fully appreciated the girls who have and continue to inspire me....until now. You're right Mom - I made friends with the best of the batch.

Thank you, Mom, for the life lessons...and for Stellang pinakamamahal!

love you lots!

maan

on mothers

It’s going to be Mother’s Day soon and I’d like to talk about mothers. . . well, my mother in particular. It used to hurt to talk about her even three years after her death. It still does hurt but now I smile more often in remembrance. I guess it has got something to do with the healing I experienced in Hawaii. And as part of my healing process, I thought I’d talk about her (I hope you don’t mind that I’m involving you in my healing process).

I wish every one of my friends (and even virtual strangers) got the chance to meet her. She was fun and funny without meaning to be! Don’t get me wrong – she was quite strict in her Catholic policies with me and my sister. That’s why we (ok, just me) had to be creative about our social (a.k.a. love) lives.

She was also quite an achiever. She never failed to remind us, i guess as a form of motivator, that she was a summa cum laude (I’m not even sure I spelled it right), a scholar, master’s degree holder and PhD of UP (for her there was no better school), and of course a member of UP’s honor society, the Pi Gamma Mu. She's a tough act to follow. So I guess I didn’t even try. She must have wondered many times in her life if we were her children (ok, again, just me)…. she couldn’t fathom why I didn’t have the heart to complete the few remaining units of the master’s degree I wasn’t trying to pursue. If I didn't have her nose, she'd probably declare me a lost and found case.

But she still had her many blooper/funny moments. One time, while she was writing one of her books (did I mention that she authored books, short stories, plays, etc.?) she tried learning to use the computer. When she got stalled with some sort of problem, she called for help. Over the phone, my cousin spelled out instructions – press “Esc” key – done; then press “Enter” – easy enough; then hit the spacebar. My mom went blank “What spacebar? What space? Where is that bar?” She was getting panicky and frustrated. My cousin said it’s the key at the bottom with “spacebar” on it. My mother was short of screaming when she said “What spaaaaacebaaaaar! There is noooooo spaaaacebaaar!” And true enough, there was, and is, no “spacebar” written on the keyboard...or any keyboard for that matter.

I loved and admired mom’s service and love of God and the church. She and my dad were both daily mass goers and were leaders in various religious orgs. My mom had many friends and they were just as hilarious. One time, while on an outing in Pangasinan with some of her friends from church, they were praying the rosary on a boat while island hopping in Hundred Islands. Their prayer went like this: “Hail Mary, full of grace – hey, look, that’s beautiful! … the Lord is with you, blessed are you – wow! Did you see that over there? ….among women and blessed is the – hey! Hey! Hey! (pointing at God knows what). I don’t even know if they finished praying the rosary! They were a blast!

And she was also my number 1 “broker”. She’d be sitting beside a stranger in a lounge or plane or airport and after awhile they’d be friends and swapping stories…and she’d be “selling” me and asking if the new friend had a son who could just be right for me.

God I miss her! I miss arguing with her. I miss going to the mall and watching two movies in one day with her. I miss her friendship. There wouldn’t be anymore fun times and blooper moments with her. I wish … that I had more time with her…that I told her I loved her more often…that I took better care of her…that I listened more…that I was a better daughter. Life with mom was too short…but I’m so grateful and blessed for that time.

For those of you who still have mothers with you, I envy you. Express your love for your moms not just on her birthday or on mother’s day but everyday. I envy my sister and all those brave souls who are not afraid to voice out and express their love. They don’t mind if the loved one doesn’t say the words back. I asked my sister once why she says it all the time. She simply said: “I don’t know what will happen today. There might not be a next time.”

So don’t wait until the next time.... it might be too late (like maybe I did). There might not be a next time. So MYMP (make your mama proud) and give her a big hug and thank her and tell her you love her. She deserves all that.

(Advance) Happy Mother's Day to you mothers and to your mothers.