Hi Mom. Before the last few hours of May fly by, I just wanted to say: I miss you. Again.
Almost all the important milestones in your life happened in May (birth, baptism, marriage, death) — which is why we call May your month, as each day in it reminds us of you. On top of that, we your children could never escape all the mall decorations, supermarket promos and advertisements that capitalize on the power of “Mother”. I exhale slowly every time I see one, hoping that as I release the air, some of the pain of missing you escapes with it. Thankfully, your grandkids come to the rescue each time, with a hug or kiss meant just for their mom.
We had been busy since April, with the Spring Festivals and then preparing for your Choco Boy’s first stint at theater, Yosef the Dreamer at Greenbelt 1. God really sustained us during that time, and each rehearsal (four nights a week, haha!) was a blessing. Hubby called me a Stage Mom, but I felt more like Fan Girl, wide-eyed and amazed just to see the participants’ united discipline + passion to glorify God with the talents they were given. We all learned a lot from the experience, and even the little girl enjoyed tagging along when necessary.
Since they had to rehearse on Mother’s Day, Sir Viking (the unforgettable Potiphar) led a simple breaking of bread with a prayer for all the mothers in the group, and it was a very memorable moment. I remember missing you again so much that night, wishing you were there to see your apo enjoy rehearsing and performing. You would have loved being a Stage Grandma, and we would have debated about which side of the family he got those performing genes from.
The best “Tissue MOMent” came on the day of the actual show. Backstage, I was helping Choco Boy put on his costume, and I told him that his Daddy’s Mom and Mommy’s Dad were in the audience so he need not be nervous when it’s time for him to come onstage. He told me, “Don’t worry Mommy, I’m not nervous. I’m so happy Lolo Nap and Mama Au will see me dance and sing for the Lord tonight.” There was a pause before he hugged me and said, “But I wish Lola Pearl could see me too! And Daddy Jaime!” I was able to choke back tears long enough to tell him I’m sure Lola Pearl and Daddy Jaime would be so happy with his performance too. “I’ll give my best!” he says to me, and he did, praise be to God.
Another wonderful blessing to the family came this month, too — your Choco Girl, Abby Zoe! I’m sure you would be so proud of Ate Muty, and ecstatic over the miracle baby too! I’m passing on to her everything you taught me when you helped me take care of my firstborn, during the extra 9 months God added after you recovered from coma.
There were so many MOMents this month that we wished you were around to see. This morning, during meditation, I was remembering the day you passed on, how far away I was from you, how at that time I wished God would give me the gift He gave Apostle Philip in Acts 8, and whisk me away from Baguio back to Batangas to be with you in a heartbeat.
Then I remembered the strong gust of wind that circled around me. I asked God why there was a whirlwind around me, a half hour before I received Dad’s call that you were gone. Then I came across this quote online — “When a soul dies, the winds will blow. The greater the soul, the greater the winds (Ancient Saying).” I suddenly remembered the passage about Prophet Elijah being carried away by chariots of fire. I looked it up and it wasn’t the chariots that excited me, it was this: “…and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind” (2 Kings 2:11).
You’re not Prophet Elijah of course, so thankfully there were no fiery chariots. But the whirlwind from nowhere was unmistakable and strong enough to blow my shawl off, even as I was carrying Choco Boy at that time. And it did not make me feel afraid, but somehow it comforts me even more now, knowing that you are up there with our Creator. I don’t know if you can see us. If you can, then I will stop wishing you were around. Instead I will start hoping you will see more MOMents that will make you laugh and smile. And make you sing a louder Halleluyah to our heavenly Father.
Happy Mother’s Month, Mama Perla.