Miss You. Extremely. Terribly.

I’m still awake thinking of both my parents on the eve of my mother’s death anniversary.

It’s hard being an orphan. That would seem easier to accept as you age. But I tell you that the more heart-wrenching thing is being both an orphan and having no siblings as well to share your thoughts with. That you miss sorely even as you become older.

There are things you just know you can more freely discuss with a sibling, just because… you’re siblings, and you grew up together.

Maybe I’m just romanticizing this because I grew up an only child.

Some friends tell me it’s not always true your sibling will understand and have your back.

I don’t know. I’ve never had one.

So on the days when I feel bereft and need to endure and there’s no one around, I write and talk to the dead.

…..

Dearest Inay,

Before you died, I know you had been trying to hold on to life for my sake, and for the sake of seeing me and talking to me again. We did not part in the best of terms the last time I visited you, but you have forgiven me for being proud and undmindful of your wishes, hindi ba*, Inay?

Knowing me very well, not only because you’re my mother but also because you saw how I am so different from you and so much like Itay, I know you worried about me till the end. You taught me to be flexible, adapting, and patient: from Itay, on the other hand, I got the knack for assessing situations and seizing opportunities, pushing the envelope, questioning, questioning established traditions. When I was moving out of your house after getting married and having Pim, on that day you cried and I told you: “I’ll be ok, don’t worry about me!” And you couldn’t stop crying and said: “I’m afraid - afraid you’re not ready for what you got yourself into! I don’t want to see you getting hurt. I just want you to be with me a little longer so you can learn how complicated it is to be a wife and mother!”

You never lived without that fear for what was going to happen to me, I know. And I understand you, now that I have my own children as well - mothers probably never get to bury this “fear” for what’s going to happen to their children.

And as you grew old and I grew older, we began to form a new bond: that of mutually fearing what’s going to happen when we finally let go of each other. Being apart from me physically, especially when Itay left, traumatized you a lot. For the first time in your life, you were living alone, not only without your only child, but also without a husband.

How difficult it must be, Inay, to live that kind of a life! And yet, you lived your life with such quiet dignity and grace I realize now it’s another one of your virtues I still need to learn.

Dearest Itay,

I remember the night before Inay died. I was walking home from work when I finally allowed myself to cry since Inay was brought to the hospital - I don’t think l ever cried so much in so short a time. I felt you walking home with me, as we used to do when you picked me up at UP Prep. Those days were one of the happiest memories of my life. I was so proud of myself, and you - my Itay, meeting me at school after work at the Diesel shop on Isla de Provisor (you see how I still recall this?), while the rest of my schoolmates were being fetched only by their family drivers! Of course it occurred to me that was our reality: I was being picked up by you because we had no driver, let alone a car. But I had been so conditioned to living in two separate universes that I was actually defiantly proud of our economic status.

Which brings me to my lessons learned, Itay. I do understand now - alam ko na**, Itay!

You taught me, first, to love and respect myself. But you also taught me to be unyielding in what I believe is true to my heart and mind. Many, many times in my life the first conflicted with the other - foolishly, and conveniently, I led myself to believe that if I can follow the second, the first will be derived from the other. Itay, I have not often followed you on this, but I haven’t forgotten! Ang dami kong kasalanan sa inyo, Itay! Matigas ang ulo ko***, and it cost me then, and cost you and Inay too. But this is no time for regrets. I know you want me to move past that. Things have turned out fine, as most things in life usually do. What’s important is that I know now, Itay: first, love and respect myself. Then, I can confidently believe what’s true in my heart and mind.

* hindi ba? - isn’t it?

**alam ko na - I know now

***ang dami kong kasalanan sa inyo, Itay! Matigas ang ulo ko - I have so many sins/faults against you. I was stubborn.

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