A friend whom I haven't seen in years asked me good-naturedly to greet my mother a Happy Mother's day for her. It's a little awkward whenever this happens and unfortunately, it happens often. "Will you bring your parents to Family Day?" "What did your mom say about you having to travel for a week?" "Why didn't you list your parents as dependents?" I guess it's reasonable that people assume that I still have parents. After all, few people lose their parents in their twenties. I try to be as lighthearted in my replies as I possibly can. But, you know - how upbeat can you get while telling people you're an orphan? I feel uneasy that they they're obligated to apologize afterwards. I feel bad that they feel bad about me feeling bad. It's a crazy quirk, I know. There's never a day that I don't think of my parents. But understandably, I remember them more on special occasions like today, Mother's Day. Some random post on the internet said missing lost loved ones is like stretching sore muscles; it provides a sense of relief from a nagging pain to remember how things were when they were still around. I thought it was a very insightful metaphor. I get tired of faking adulthood sometimes. It's exhausting to always keep everything together and letting myself be flooded with the memories can be cathartic.
When I think of my mother, I miss so many things at once it's almost overwhelming. I miss her laughter and the animated way she talked. I miss watching movies with her. I miss her phenomenal home-cooked meals. True story: on our way back from the funeral, my sister and I started to enumerate which of Mama's recipes we remember. If your family has them, please write them down. You might not think it matters now, but yes, it will. On a somewhat related note, I miss my mother's beautiful cursive. On a totally unrelated one, I miss her singing voice. Unfortunately, I got neither of the two. And I certainly did not think I would, but I miss the embarrassment whenever she would brag to everyone about our every lame and significant achievement.
Looking back now, I realize that my mother's parenting was a balance of instinct and deliberation. She was always aware that she was bringing us up. She knows that her words and actions - positive or otherwise - have a direct effect on us and she tried her best to mold us into well-rounded individuals.
Well-roundedness include social skills and I believe there was a time my mother found it hard to understand my introversion. She kept prodding me to get out of my proverbial shell. She had a sociable personality and my older siblings are fairly gregarious - at least much more than I am. My mother had to deal with a youngest child who didn't want other kids on her own birthday party; who goes out of her way to avoid any form of social interaction outside her inner circle. Eventually, I think she resigned to the fact that I was that way and didn't force me into uncomfortable situations.
A quick digression. Just the other day, I was telling friends how thankful I am for online food delivery systems. Because of this technology, I don't have to call a stranger and give my order. I sometimes wait for an hour for these services to go online. They usually confirm through text (yay), but when they call me up, then that just defeats the whole purpose for me.
Anyway, I wish Mama could see my nephew now. He's growing up to be a smart and funny kid. I'm sure she would've loved teaching him all the nursery rhymes that she taught us as kids. She would've enjoyed hearing Adi recite, "My name is Anjeran Daniel... I am three years old. I live in Doha, Qatar."
His name is actually Adrian Daniel, but we cut all three-year-olds some slack on enunciation, right? If you ask Adi what food he would like to have on his birthday, he'd say: cake, chicken, and gulay. Sitaw, in particular. My brother and sister-in-law are turning out to be wonderful parents. I'm sure Mama would've been proud of them both. I think my siblings and I all try to live our lives in such a way that if our mother were still alive, she'd still have enough stories to bore everyone about our every lame and significant achievement.
As always, to those of you who are still blessed to be able to, please hug or call your mothers today. Thanks.
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