We fought hard. We prayed. We hoped.
Yet, time has given her verdict. It's decided to cut herself short for you. With that comes the inevitablity that soon, I will have you only in my memory. The pain of your absence can no longer be taken away by flight tickets or the familiar announcements at airports.
Home will never be the same.
But I have now.
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| A lighthouse in Ivatan, Batanes |
True that even with the years, I have not yet fully understood what that means. But, with all the contradictions, the irrationality that come with that declaration, I cannot be anything else but certain about how much I love you and how I will miss you dearly.
Let me show that certainty by telling you a story about a boy.
Once, a long time ago, he searched the whole house. He went everywhere- the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedrooms. Everywhere to find you. An inch before giving up, he decided to go up the stairs to his favorite spot at the balcony to sit and wait. Then, he found you.
Because it is difficult for a child to pretend, a big smile lit his face, but only for a second. He remembered he was supposed to be upset with you. And then, you smiled and told him he could go with you downtown if he promised to be a good boy, if he promised not to ask for new toys. He was elated! He could not imagine how that afternoon would pass without you by his side. It did not matter if he had to write off miniature cranes and planes. For more than the toys, I could conquer the world with you.
Do you remember how he braved that river without you for the first time? You told him that a prayer is more powerful than you crossing the river with them (for he was with his little sister). He was only a little scared. For if the most powerful person in the world entrusts her little ones to a prayer, then saying the words is definitely GOD. He held his little sister's hand and told her, "Don't be afraid. I am saying the prayer, and mother is just at the other side, watching over us."
You taught him to be brave. You taught me to be strong.
Time went by, you stopped seeing them off at the side of the river because they have grown old for that. But I remember how you would still sometimes wait there, sitting on a rock, when they came home late and when it was raining (with their raincoats and umbrellas).
Mang, you have always been there like a lighthouse- a beacon, a respite.
Do you remember the time when he defied his father to go away for university? You went with him to the bus station, perhaps, half hoping he would change his mind, but the other half cheering him on to make his dream come true. Then, just when he was about to get on the bus, you slipped in his pocket what was probably the only money you had. I am not even sure how you would get home. You shrugged his worries away, and simply told him to do well and take care. It broke his heart to see your tears as the bus slowly left. But, you made sure to smile- an image I like to revisit when I am sad...until now.
The stories go on, but I do not think my heart could take any more. I will save what strength I have to tell you all these by your side. For now, let it be enough to let you know that you have always been the one to teach your little ones to utter a prayer when doing things for the first time. The mother who would watch over them till they get to the other side of the river safely. And the mother who would wait at the other side when it is late or raining.
Now, you are telling us again we have grown old for that. You want us to go on crossing rivers without you, with only the prayer you taught us to say.
I must have been a bad student to you. I have prayed hard these days, Mang. So hard, my heart aches. Yet, I cannot feel any strength to take a step. Perhaps, your little boy should have listened harder?
Your little one is going home to you soon. Hold on to that rock you like to sit on, waiting for us. We will have a little chat and I will hug you like you did me many years ago.
Kuya
