TO MY MOM, THE GREATEST OF THEM ALL!

Christmas Day 1935, almost 74 years ago, a girl was born somewhere in a remote barrio in Bacoor, Cavite. I now realized that she could have been a US-born citizen if not for Manuel Luis Quezon and the 1935 Philippine Constitution.

She would, however, later become my grandparents’ Mona Lisa, beautifully crafted and yet genetically armed with great rearing abilities. Sadly enough, they would not have the opportunity to witness their daughter’s greatness. My grandfather died during the war and his wife succumbed to Tuberculosis not long after leaving my mother and 2 more siblings, not even in their teens, separated and to the hands of caring relatives. Some other closer relatives would later deprive them of their right for a greater share of inheritance than what they got. An old case of the greedy taking advantage of the hungry who have no means to fight back.

The eldest became the greatest domestic helper of all time. Way before courses for this profession started to enjoy popularity in that part of the world which is the top exporter of domestic help, she was already making news in the neighborhood. Hampered by a physical affliction, she would not marry and instead would look after every single child in the family and in the family she stayed with right after my grandparents’ death. She would take care of everybody from my oldest brother to my cousin’s youngest daughter - not one was not hugged, fed and loved by my Auntie. People say I was her favorite but purely, she loved everybody.

The youngest, who is like poker’s Money-Maker, first became a seamstress and later did anything and everything that could earn her income. Extremely hard-worker and wise, she would become financially the most successful of the three.

My mother found herself helping out in a relative’s turu-turo in Baclaran and became adept in cooking before she found my dad or my dad found her. Despite being twice her age, she chose to marry my dad, a famous mechanic from Hagonoy, Bulacan. The two would have 6 kids: Reynaldo, Florencio, Rolando, Natalia, Julieta, and myself. From a small nipa hut in a remote, mostly farming land of Looban and a measly amount my father got from selling his share of my other grandparents’ property in Bulacan, the two would start a motor vehicle repair business and also operate a couple of passenger jeepneys. The number of customers would grow. Although most of them wanted free service, they would help increase the number of jeepneys too and life was really getting better.

However, another tragedy would strike the family. Rolando was born with a blue baby syndrome. He had heart defect and would only live 4 months. But my parents would be unfazed. They worked so hard to give my brothers and sisters good education knowing the things they were deprived of will be our ticket to escape poverty. They would re-build our home into a more solid structure and cleaner, safer place to live on.

But success would be halted once again. My dad, wiring our ceiling lights, suddenly fell from the chair he was standing on. He got blood clot on his brain which the doctors had to open-up. The surgery was successful so it was a complete surprise to me to hear the news that on the 21st of January 1975, he died of kidney failure. I hardly remembered anything except for a few encounters with my father and the long way to the cemetery during the interment. I was barely 6 years old and just about to attend school in June of that year. He did not witness Reynaldo graduate from High School getting numerous academic recognitions along the way and Natalia honored as her school’s valedictorian during her own elementary graduation that same year. She would go on to become a Salutatorian in High School and thereby gain scholarships from the University of the Philippines.

With the help of Rodrigo or Ato, who is my father’s godson and more than a brother to me, and to some degree wonder kid Florencio, the family would keep the repair shop and the jeepneys. Slowly but surely, however, the jeepneys were decreasing in number and the business looking as bleak as ever. Mother, knowing best, had to do something and so she did.

She would sell the remaining jeepneys except one to start her own grocery store in the Zapote marketplace. She would get loans here, there, and everywhere and borrowed money from individuals and some well-to-do relatives just so we can continue our studies. She would make all the necessary sacrifices, I know, to make sure we finish our education. She would, of course, pay them all back which allowed her to gain their trust and give her more loans.

In the early ‘80s and in fact even before that, most adult male in our old neighborhood would go to oil rich Saudi Arabia for a promise of a better job and income. Florencio, armed with his Radio and Electronics Technician diploma from Samson University, and Rodrigo would be no different. They worked there to help my mom. Rodirgo would come back less than a year later and the amazing Florencio, who once called himself the greatest technician in the world, became the back bone of the family’s income. He would come back after finishing his contract to reopen the old shop and included electronics repair at home and also to continue his Mechanical Engineering studies.

By 1988, Reynaldo, a graduate of Chemical Engineering, has spent some time in another oil rich country, Kuwait. Natalia, a BS Chemist from UP, has been promoted to a supervisory position in a chemical processing plant in Rosario, Cavite. And Julieta recently finished her BS Commerce degree in the University of Santo Thomas. In the meantime, I was working on completing my own Electrical Engineering degree and have planned on graduating by October of that year. Include Ato to the mix who also finished Automotive Mechanic course and one could interpret this as an overwhelming success for my mother, once a homeless orphan child separated from her 2 beloved sisters. She was definitely so proud of all of us and the success we had were likely not possible without her hard work and perseverance.

Then, a group of heavily armed men surrounded and sprayed bullets on a tinted pick-up truck owned by a relative but at that time was being driven by my brother. Florencio died instantly. (It’s been more than 21 years since that incident and I still find it hard to accept). Tears in the family won’t stop for a while and those from my mother’s continue to drop to this day. Long after his death, I still continue to have dreams of him coming back to us and rejoining our family.

Since then, more tragedy struck the family via the destructive forces of fire. My mother’s store got totally burnt 4 or 5 times and worst of all in 1995 our own home for so many years got burnt down to ashes completely.

Today, thanks to my mother, we all stood tall despite those misfortunes. Although we are all living in far away places and not seeing each other except for me and my mother who are together here in Edmonton, we are proud to say we have become successful in our own little ways and we stay together in our hearts through our mother.

To this day, she still has not stopped taking care of me and nothing I do to her including sacrificing my life would be enough to repay what she has done to me and my brothers and sisters. Let this be my tribute to her and come Christmas day I hope I can find the way to tell her how much she means to me and how much I love her. Now, I dream of one day re-uniting together with my brother and 2 sisters, Ato, together with all our children and my 2 aunts in front of my mother. That is probably the greatest gift we can give back to her and I hope it happens soon.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM! AND MERRY CHRISTMAS, TOO!