Mother — this word holds a whole world of varied meanings. As with all others, everyone conjures different pictures in his/her mind when the word is heard. And the picture changes with every stage in life that one goes through.
I haven’t grown up with my own mother because I was told I was sickly as a child and being the eldest child of a pampered daughter, the grannies found it best to take care of the “baby” me. But both my parents lived nearby and we would see each other everyday.
Today, I would share with you how the meaning of the word “MOTHER” changed for me through the years.
In my infancy, mama had been my lifeline. Without her constant loving care, I wouldn’t have been here by now. I didn’t grow up on cow’s milk like all of my siblings. We have all been breastfed and those who have gone through breast feeding can attest that it is no easy feat to wake up just when one has just drifted off to sleep because the baby has demanded for his food. I couldn’t remember much about what happened back then, but I see fragments of pictures… of both my parents and my grandparents rearing me and me having grown up a bit spoiled by the grannies.
In childhood, mama was the monster with the guava branch. I could still picture her with both hands planted on the waist, eyes wide and blabbering like a radio that’s just been loaded with new batteries, 
. And I always had choices then — I could choose to run as far away as I can or hide behind my grandfather (my mother’s father). Both ways, I could be certain the guava branch won’t hurt me. With me running far, mother can’t keep up and they guava branch can’t do any damage. If I hide behind my grandpa, it would be grandpa who will be hit with the guava branch, 
. I still remember that so well. But mama was the one who carried the rod. She imposed rules on us which we had to religiously stick to if we don’t want to be whipped. We had been assigned chores, imposed with curfews — and whoever comes home after dusk will be punished. She chose our friends, didn’t give all day to roam around and play. We could play of course, but everything had been controlled. Looking back now, I didn’t understand it then. I felt rebellious as I felt suffocated. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t given the freedom which other children obviously had. Mother, to me, was too possessive and too overprotective. It wasn’t until I was into my young adulthood — when most of my friends were either impregnated or married because they’d gotten pregnant — that I understood why I was being cooped up. She did those things because she was looking ahead into my future and knew well enough that if I wasn’t dealt with the way she dealt with me, I would have been one of those friends who have miserable lives because of getting all the freedom all too soon…
In my pursuit of a college profession, mama had been the inspiration. I was living in Ozamiz City as a part of another family, but mama had always been the reason why I have dreamed as high as I dared to dream. I dreamed that one day, I would be able to let her have a sip at a better life — something she wasn’t able to enjoy while we were growing up because my father wasn’t the good provider that he was supposed to be. Mama found ways and means to augment whatever was earned by father — hand sewing pillow cases and blankets from cloth remnants and selling them to whomever got interested. She sold a lot because she had been and still is a good designer. I remember mama braving it all — a jealous, manic and irresponsible husband, four kids, no job — I remember mama wanting to give up but choosing to hold on because of us, four kids. I remember mama getting all too tired of the situation she was in and getting it all out on us, her children…but who could blame her? Mama had been my inspiration while striving to make a better life for myself because I had vowed that I would one day get her off the rut that she had known ever since she married my father.
When I first fell in love, mama had been my confidante. I had friends of course, but telling it to mama had seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. When I first had a boyfriend, I told her about it. She didn’t have to worry that much though… I was already 20. I let her read the love letters and she would share a piece of her mind. Oh, she didn’t say anything bad about Jerry, my first boyfriend — only telling me that if I choose to marry the man, she won’t disagree, but she’d be stomping and crying like a child who’s been denied a cone of ice cream in the middle of the road. Now, if you had been me, what would you make out of the situation? But with Efren, she didn’t have anything to say. I guess, what people say about the parents’ gut feeling on the intended lover of their children is correct. It seems they see the things we choose to ignore. I’m glad I listened to Mama because if I didn’t my life wouldn’t have been anything different from the life she has had… I know because Mama had followed her heart instead of listening to her parents’ advise against marrying my father… Mama had been and still is a mirror to me…
When I got married, mama had been the steadying hand. When I felt uncertain and was overwhelmed with the newness of it all, I had always relied on the stability of mother’s judgment and took it for granted that she was always there. I didn’t fear anything because I have been certain of her presence in my life. It didn’t bother me that Efren would be leaving me for months every year because there had always been my mama. When the children were growing up, I didn’t worry that some nanny would beat them while I am away because I was confident that I had left them in the care of the one person who loves them as much as I do … my Mama. When the children got sick, I didn’t worry too much because Mama shared the anxiety with me. Mama, had been the wind beneath my wings.
Mama is no longer with me… she’s flown to Ohio to join my sister. In my earlier blogs… especially the ones right after she left, I had been telling about the adjustment I was and still am going through to stand strong on my own — I have a husband, but his work keeps him far way. I have my father nearby, but I can’t count on him. It has not been easy; it will never be easy, but if anything, her departure has been the springboard that I needed to jump from where I had been — the dependent daughter to the self-sufficient wife and mother. I know it will never be easy, but I also know I will make it through — because I am my mother’s daughter; because even despite the distance, I can still draw strength and inspiration from one remarkable woman — the wind beneath my wings — MY MAMA.
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