I cannot tell you every little detail which made me lucky to have a mother like mine because this blog and these words will never be sufficient, but I can tell you some things that might provide you with the picture.
My mom is a different mother. She isn’t the classical one who protects their daughter from all the jeopardy of the world. She isn’t the one who stays at home and serves three meals to her family. She has always been a career woman whom I really love and admire. Despite her duty as a nurse, she never failed a duty to be the personal nurse of the family. She is always the first to hear our first coughs, always first to feel the heat of our fever and always first to notice when depression strikes in. My mom gave me the opportunity to experience everything. Because of her, I can truly say that I have no regrets since I was able to try everything I am curious about. When I was young, she stood from far away, watching me play and bruise my knees. She was just watching when I fell, when I cried and when I eventually got the courage to stand up again. She never told me never to play again whenever I go home with overflowing sweat and dirty wounds. For her, it was always part of growing up and now that I have the enough mind to appreciate everything, I can only cry, not because the wounds and bruises still hurt but because I realized that she was selfless enough to let me grow and learn.
When I first started going to school, my nursery classmates cried when their momma left them during classes. I did not shed even a single tear for that. I know that my mom will be waiting for me and will treat me to Jolibee as soon as I finished my classes. I know that that is what I needed to do. When I first started going to college, I cried when my mom left me on my dormitory. I just know that there will be no signs of her during the nights that I need her encouarges the most and that she is not anymore there to take care of me as her young baby. I was independent. No Jolibee treats and no mommy waiting for me outside of my classroom. For me, it was the real world and I was too afraid that I resulted to crying and wishing that I may still safely stay on my mom’s womb. Rationally, I cannot live without my mom. During my first cry to the world, she was already there. She was there when I have to share my victories with someone and more importantly, she was there when I have to share my defeats with a person who will still be proud of me no matter what. She was there when I broke my heart, not telling me “I told you so” but hugging all the pieces together so I won’t break down. She was still there when I told her, “Mom, you’re wrong” and was waiting patiently after I realized that I really was the wrong one.
For all the disappointments and failed expectations that I caused her, she was still there, loving me unconditionally because I am her daughter and she is a mother, my mother. Simple as that. I wonder if I already gave her the idea how much I really appreciate every little thing she did. I wonder if she knows how happy I am to have an ice cream cone or a popcorn which she personally brought for me. Most especially, I wonder if my gratitude will be enough for the two lives she have given me - my life and hers, too. Nevertheless, I can still thank her now and do everything to be a blessing to her, too.
Mom, I love you, even though I usually fail you, even though I am stubborn at times. Mom, I need you, even though I lock the door of my room when I am mad at your decisions or I don't text when it's already late and you don't know where am I. Mom, I am thankful for having you as my mother, even though I sometimes appear unappreciative or insensitive. When you cry, I cry more.