Creative children
September 30, 2006 | 12:00am
These days when I think of my only son, I get a flash of myself wearing a long, red and white polka-dotted maternity dress, laughing and walking at night with his daddy, waiting for our son to come. Then he was born, and with him came some of my most wonderful mother-and-son years. I would wake up early and tiptoe to his room to change his diapers. Then I would pick him up and hug him, smell him, kiss him, play with my marvelous baby boy, born so small on Sept. 30, 35 years ago. 35 years! What did those years bring?
We moved from a small house to a grand mansion, then we moved over and over again. We were like gypsies moving from home to home. Then he turned eight and his father took him. He wanted to go, so I let him, did not show the pain it caused me to him or to his sisters. I kept that pain – so profound – to myself. The burden became a part of me, an integral part of my life then. I breathed in and out of it, laughed over it, but never showed it. It took a long time for me to forgive his father for that crime, but now it is forgiven. Now I can admit to it publicly.
Nothing hurts a mother more than the taking away of her child. I think that hurts even more than if you lost your child to disease or an accident. Imagine: your son is alive somewhere around you but you do not even want to see him because you are afraid of your pain deepening still. You lost him to his father. There is an element of anger there – very deep, lethal anger. So you stay away. What else can you do?
I moved to the US hurting still, not saying goodbye. In time, he found me and came to visit. That eased my pain slightly. We began to develop some sort of relationship. Many years later, I wrote a book, How Do You Know Your Pearls Are Real? I had to research for that book and found data that said that when children have to be divided, it is better for sons to go with their fathers and daughters with their mothers. That sort of eased my pain, too.
Slowly, over the 35 years, we mended our hurts until finally his wedding came around. Then we developed a real relationship. That was, I believe, about seven years ago. Now we are very good friends. I am so proud of him, his wife Faye, his lovely little girl Maxine, named after my stepfather, Max, who was a tremendous influence in my son Gino’s first eight years with me.
I learned many lessons from my relationship with my son. First, that parental relationships are never fully ripped apart. True, there are times when the fabric gets torn, but it is always something you can mend. If you are separated from your child, sure, you will suffer pain and cry in secret places, or late at night when everyone else is asleep, but he or she will return. All you have to do is leave your heart open. There will come a time when everything is mended and you love again, you are friends again. There comes a time when all – and I mean all – is forgiven, even forgotten. I can write about this because the pain is gone.
Gino and his wife Faye are both creative. Gino composes music and lately has taken an avid interest in photography. Just like his dad. Faye loves to paint, has taken lessons and is a most avid painter now. Just like her mother-in-law. She is developing her style. I have seen her work and it is impressive. Next week, Oct. 6 at 6:30 p.m., they are opening a group exhibit of their work – paintings and photographs. The painters are Rhia Faye Cruz, Cookie del Gallego and Samantha Galvez-Lorenzo. The photographers are Gino Cruz, Dan Gil, Joey Kilayco, Ruel and An Soriano. It will be held at the Exhibition Center for Contemporary Arts, Chateau Verde Bldg, Valle Verde 1, Gate 2, Pasig City. Best to enter through the C-5 side on E- Rodriguez Avenue. I know. I went to see the place. Jimmy Laya, a part of my son Gino’s childhood, and I will cut the ribbon or do something together. We will enjoy the exhibit. I am sure of that.
These days when I think of Gino, my only son, I see his dad and me laughing and walking at night waiting for our son to come. We are both young and maybe both stupid. It’s the image my mind has retained. Nevertheless, it tells me that all is finally forgiven.
Please send your comments to lilypad@skyinet.net or secondwind.barbara@gmail.com or text 0917-8155570.
We moved from a small house to a grand mansion, then we moved over and over again. We were like gypsies moving from home to home. Then he turned eight and his father took him. He wanted to go, so I let him, did not show the pain it caused me to him or to his sisters. I kept that pain – so profound – to myself. The burden became a part of me, an integral part of my life then. I breathed in and out of it, laughed over it, but never showed it. It took a long time for me to forgive his father for that crime, but now it is forgiven. Now I can admit to it publicly.
Nothing hurts a mother more than the taking away of her child. I think that hurts even more than if you lost your child to disease or an accident. Imagine: your son is alive somewhere around you but you do not even want to see him because you are afraid of your pain deepening still. You lost him to his father. There is an element of anger there – very deep, lethal anger. So you stay away. What else can you do?
I moved to the US hurting still, not saying goodbye. In time, he found me and came to visit. That eased my pain slightly. We began to develop some sort of relationship. Many years later, I wrote a book, How Do You Know Your Pearls Are Real? I had to research for that book and found data that said that when children have to be divided, it is better for sons to go with their fathers and daughters with their mothers. That sort of eased my pain, too.
Slowly, over the 35 years, we mended our hurts until finally his wedding came around. Then we developed a real relationship. That was, I believe, about seven years ago. Now we are very good friends. I am so proud of him, his wife Faye, his lovely little girl Maxine, named after my stepfather, Max, who was a tremendous influence in my son Gino’s first eight years with me.
I learned many lessons from my relationship with my son. First, that parental relationships are never fully ripped apart. True, there are times when the fabric gets torn, but it is always something you can mend. If you are separated from your child, sure, you will suffer pain and cry in secret places, or late at night when everyone else is asleep, but he or she will return. All you have to do is leave your heart open. There will come a time when everything is mended and you love again, you are friends again. There comes a time when all – and I mean all – is forgiven, even forgotten. I can write about this because the pain is gone.
Gino and his wife Faye are both creative. Gino composes music and lately has taken an avid interest in photography. Just like his dad. Faye loves to paint, has taken lessons and is a most avid painter now. Just like her mother-in-law. She is developing her style. I have seen her work and it is impressive. Next week, Oct. 6 at 6:30 p.m., they are opening a group exhibit of their work – paintings and photographs. The painters are Rhia Faye Cruz, Cookie del Gallego and Samantha Galvez-Lorenzo. The photographers are Gino Cruz, Dan Gil, Joey Kilayco, Ruel and An Soriano. It will be held at the Exhibition Center for Contemporary Arts, Chateau Verde Bldg, Valle Verde 1, Gate 2, Pasig City. Best to enter through the C-5 side on E- Rodriguez Avenue. I know. I went to see the place. Jimmy Laya, a part of my son Gino’s childhood, and I will cut the ribbon or do something together. We will enjoy the exhibit. I am sure of that.
These days when I think of Gino, my only son, I see his dad and me laughing and walking at night waiting for our son to come. We are both young and maybe both stupid. It’s the image my mind has retained. Nevertheless, it tells me that all is finally forgiven.
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