A drizzly morning started that Sunday. Light clouds covered the sky and the air smelled grassy. I was there in that very park, summoned by the most significant lady. Holding an umbrella with my left, the other hand was holding her
old, wrinkled hand. The romance was second to none, indeed, as we walked side by side to a seemingly endless point yet too short for such cause. Alas, the time was not ours to stop, nor it was ours to rewind.
The distance has been the archenemy of our bond ever since I pursued my study, and now, my career. That she had never regretted it was clearly reflected in her countenance. As most parents, she had always known that someday she would have to let me go. In some ways, she even encouraged me to do so, not through words, but through her silences. In her quiet manner, she was the wisest mother for sure, and I thanked God everyday for trusting her to give birth to me.
She called me earlier that morning with an ordinary how-are-you and stuffs. Somehow I caught a glint of blurriness in her usually full-toned voice. Even without explicit utterance, I knew that she missed me dearly. She requested to meet me, so I ardently approved the courtesy to sate the sense of longing in her chest.
And there I was, giving company to the woman I respected the most. She chose to meet me at the very park she and her husband―that I called father―used to spend their share of early marriage together. Through the gentle touch I tried
to convey, “I’m here now, Mom. Everything’s gonna be alright.”
Picture: www.santasukiwanis.com © Corbis
As we strolled down the wet gravel path, she chuckled lightly. I asked why, hence she brought me back into my childhood reminiscence, “When you were a tiny little boy, in rainy days like this, sometimes you spent the time with your dad in the porch. While you sat on his lap, he began to sing this chant. It was no lullaby, but it always was for you. It always made you fell asleep on his lap. Do you still remember?”
I was slightly baffled, but tried to hide it under a pretentious calmness. “Ah, yes, of course,” I chuckled behind the white lie.
“He dotes on you, Son. Always does. Beyond his firm and temperamental disposition, he cares about you more than anything else. He played football with you, brought you to the shopping centers, bought you toys, called you when he was away . . . . He might have never said it, but you’re his sole pride.” I rendered speechless as I listened to her,
realizing of how naive a teenager I once was. I might have not even been aware if I have hurt or disappointed them countless times, but then I did.
“So, how is he?” I asked her.
“He’s fine. He’s a robust man, you know?”
“Then what about you? How are you, Mom?”
She then stopped her step and turned to me, looked straight into my eyes and said calmly, “Listen, Dear. Don’t you worry about us. We have a wonderful life. Wonderful children too, yes?” She caressed my left cheek, then inhaled gently as if trying to control her emotion before continuing, “The happiest thing in our life . . . the sweetest thing is to witness that our children have a wonderful life too, that we have done such a great job in nurturing you. That's all the matter to us now.”
I took her hands and kissed them respectfully. These hands were the very hands that had raised me to who I was. “Now,
let’s go see him. I’m sure he misses you,” she suggested.
As we reached that very abode where I had been grown, I saw the man sitting on the front porch, with a cup of coffee on the table and a newspaper on his lap. He seemed so delighted to see me. I greeted him and shook his hands, then we spent the day in a cheerful fashion.
They might not be the greatest parents in the world, but if I was to be reborn, I would implore to God that He would entrust me to these exact couple. I promised that I would carry along their legacy, ultimately to be inherited to their grand-children, so that someday they would realize that they have the warmest treasure in this world: love.
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“You know, your Mom and I, we had one hell of a great life, Son. And the best part about that is we had one hell of a great kid, too.” – Harry Helmsley in 2012 (the movie)
P/S: Happy Mother's Day to all :-)
