"Ah, er, um, Inay, is it all right for me to attend the debut of my classmate?"
Rarely will she react immediately. She’ll answer, "I’ll think about it," and once again it’s pakiramdaman time in our house.
I needed to raise my antennae and catch her in a good mood so I could ask (or beg or implore) when the timing was right.
With two weeks’ leeway to make up her mind, I figured I’d stand a better chance of getting a "y-e-s" and put a stop to my nagging.
The moment I obtained her permission, I would sigh and thank the heavens and turn my attention to something else. What to wear, grooming and tying up the lines chatting about the coming event, etc. Of course, completing school assignments, tidying up my room and helping out in the kitchen and housekeeping were built-in requisites that could not be compromised.
This was also the best time to catch me at my most generous and cheerful behavior; my brothers took advantage of that. "Ah, baby sis, can I borrow some gimmick money?" Even the sign on my door – "Off limits to male siblings" – was reversed temporarily.
On the big night, glowing with my handsome escort on hand plus the designated, reluctant chaperones not far behind (my brothers), my mother would send us off not with a hug and a smile but with a sober thought, "Huwag masyadong masaya." Literally, it meant "Don’t be overly happy."
But why put a limit to happiness, why hold it back?
To my mother, there was the risk of losing control when one is too happy. When that happens, you’d be an easy target, a likely candidate to get into a fix or into a tricky situation where you could be exposed to danger or be an unwilling victim.
Just when the party was getting warm and the giggling, laughing, drinking and dancing reached an exhilarating peak – as in a state where care is forgotten – a voice within me would suddenly whisper, "Remember, not too much."
It was my mother’s voice.
Instinctively, I’d laugh less loudly, drink less robustly and dance withless abandon. Looking down, what do you know, my feet were still on solid ground. That’s when I realized that mother was right. One could enjoy the moment without losing one’s head.
My mother’s words kept me safe. I was out of harm’s way with pleasure intact, without any guilt. When I jumped into my warm bed, I slept soundly, too.
At the memorial Mass for a departed aunt, Dr. Amparing de Ocampo, her daughter, Tita Elegado, had this to say, "Mama was the anchor to my father’s (Dr. Geminiano de Ocampo) ship in search of truth, knowledge, and beauty. She chose (emphasis on her free choice) to stay in the shadows but Papa never made any decision without seeing her approving smile." She was his strength, his guiding light.
She always told us, "Each of you is a unique individual. Use this gift to inspire people to be better than who they are. In the process you become better persons yourself."
To my friend Fe Wanner, her mother, Ima Belen Zapanta-Reyes, was the provider of simple but profound sayings. Ah, but you had to listen closely when she said it. Her demeanor was gentle and unobtrusive. She spoke softly, like the caressing wind, but full of conviction, resolve and cheerfulness.
She said, "Tumulong ka sa taong hindi makakaganti sa iyo" (Help someone who cannot reciprocate your kindness or generosity).
The first time I heard her say this, I laughed hard. In the Filipino vernacular, it sounded like something a scoundrel or a no-good tough kanto (street) boy would say. But I let the words sink in and I realized that here is pure compassion and love – you go past the publicity, the hype, and what this material world demands because in your heart you know that you were able to show kindness without expecting anything in return.
When their family house was razed to the ground, Ima Belen stood among the embers and remarked, "Mabuti na lang nakapag almusal na tayong lahat." (It was a good thing we all had our breakfast). It was her way of telling her children that material wealth do not count when you battle the contradictions of life.
Life and God’s generous bounty are your true blessings.
Ima Belen lived to be 100 years old.
I was touched by how my friend described her remaining days.
She wrote, "When I last saw her, I could see she was having less and less energy to converse. She has learned to sleep sitting up, nakayuko (head bent), almost day in and day out, claiming that she could not breathe when she was lying down. We thought at first that it was just a habit, and sometimes even reprimanded her for being stubborn (which a lot of old folks seem to become). I know now it must have been the fluid accumulating in her lungs."
When I was changing her house dress, I noticed little humps on her shoulders. I guess it was her bones starting to protrude because she had shed weight but then again, I thought, could my mother be starting to grow wings? Is she slowly turning into an angel?
Well, she can lend her wings to others because God will carry her Himself.
In the new millennium, words of caution from mothers have not diminished. How often have I heard myself tell my children, "Do not be too trusting when traveling, never carry anything for strangers and lock your luggage."
Last year, a group of friends traveled to a famous beach resort for what they anticipated as a well-deserved holiday. This, however, turned into a nightmare when one of the girls was apprehended by customs officials for allegedly transporting 4.1 kilos of marijuana in her boogie board bag. She was convicted to 20 years in prison despite her claim that the drugs were smuggled. She did not lock her luggage also. If she was indeed innocent, someone must have stashed it there, unknown to her.
Did she let her guard down because of all the excitement that surrounded this dream holiday? Was she too trusting? Was she a victim of circumstance?
Once my son gave me a book.
"What’s the occasion?" "No occasion. I just thought you’d enjoy reading this ’cause it’s just like you."
It read, P.S. I Love You. When Mom wrote, she always saved the best for last.
It seems mothers have opinions about anything and anyone. She also has no qualms about sharing them, especially with her children, whether they like it or not.
The following made me smile:
"Regarding your D in biology, let me only say that sometimes a good scare is worth more than good advice."
"I hear you have a new heartthrob. Keep a clear head. Remember, a person in love sometimes mistakes a pimple for a dimple."
"When you are angry or frustrated, what comes out? Whatever it is, it’s a good indication of what you’re made of."
"Your religion is what you do when the sermon is over."
"I’ve never seen a smiling face that was not beautiful."
"Congratulations on your new sales promotion. Remember that true salesmanship begins when the customer says no."
"When criticizing your employees, you might want to consider this. First offer a word of praise and appreciation. Remember, the barber always lathers the customer before he applies the razor."
"The next time someone hurts you and your first response is to hurt them back, remember: The person who pursues revenge digs two graves."
"I know you take pains to have an impressive wardrobe. But if someone remembers your suit and not your smile, you didn’t smile enough."
"Be smarter than other people – just don’t tell them so."
These one-liners always hit the mark. Where do mothers get them? I suspect it’s from their spiritual alliance with the gods.
Refined manners, impeccable bearing and good character: These are a few of the values that our parents try to teach and raise us with. But we have to build it piece by piece, by thought, by choice, by courage and determination.
In the twilight of her years, my mother took everything with humor. When she was asked by her five-year-old great-grandchild whether she was young or old, she bent down and whispered, "My dear, I’ve been young a very long time."
It proved again that "Growing old can be a wonderful adventure if one only remembers that the important word is growing."
When times get stormy, who wouldn’t give anything to have mother by our side listening once more to her words of comfort, humor and wisdom?
I carry her words in my heart.
More importantly, I carry her heart in mine.