A mother, from a son’s point of view

My relationship with my mother had always been close, fortified by mutual respect and faith in each other.

I had always sought her advice on matters that would ultimately alter my life. She was my source of wisdom, a resident guidance counselor, if you may. When I first ran for Congress at the age of 27, I came to her to ask for her blessings. She objected to the idea at first, knowing what lay ahead. But she dropped her objections soon after she realized and was convinced that I had the popular support of Zambales behind me, in exchange of a promise to do my job well, if elected.

When I decided to venture into the cable business in the 70s, I had the unwavering support of my mother. She allowed me to use the paternal properties in Bataan as collateral when I applied for loans. It was a big risk on her part, given that the cable business was unknown at the time, and therefore maybe unprofitable. Her faith in me was undeniable, it was this abiding faith and strong character that I shall remember most about her.

My mother was gentle, as she was strong. And she never actually meddled in my personal life. She respected my own person, and acknowledged my faults. I could not have asked for a better mother.

She was a hands-on grandmother. She was involved in the rearing of Marga and Paco, when they were in primary school – Marga at Poveda, Paco at La Salle. They were sort of half-boarders in their lola’s house, and I remember she made sure there was warm, hot lunch waiting for them after a tiring day in school.

All of us – Teresita, when she was still alive. Mila and I, had an unspoken commitment to support and help each other in time of need. Our mother did the same for us, and for that we would always be grateful. Mila bears the largest burden of our grief, having had to live with my mom for more than four decades – until her last hours.

She will be remembered as a simple gracious, down to earth committed loving, devoted, supportive mother to us.