Eric Ariel Salas
Not to build castles in the air, but castles made of bricks. My mom used to tell me that. She, who constantly pushes me forward and stirs me to strive to become the best that I can, is the woman who deserves every accolade of wisdom, honor and strength. I feel excited counting the days left. The second Sunday of May is celebrated for her.
In the countless times that things went south and continued to fall apart, there she was, the wonder woman by my side shielding the unwilling part of me from the falling debris. When melancholies were about to break into tears and roads seemed long and endless, she was there to make me realize tomorrow’s another day. Mom was there when Superman failed to show and when any other superhero fell short to save me.
Unlike Papa, whose character could be likened to a silent harp, Mama harps her subterranean emotions out. One instance, I cried with her when she said how much she loves me and my older brother. Oh, she cried a bucket.
Mama is full of love and the abundance of that gift is what I see in her. I also see strength only the strongest person could be blessed with. Ready to shed a tear wherever, whenever, on my behalf, I am convinced that what a mother cannot do is to abandon her child in grief.
Mothers are awe-inspiring individuals. If God had to dispel all the blessings in heaven, I would ask Him to hand over the lion’s share to the moms. Happiness is what they deserve for their sacrifices.
When I was still in the Philippines, a colleague named Janice would often turn sentimental in each mention of her son, Johann. Her sacrifices in making her first boy enjoy a normal childhood is both lightening and heartbreaking at the same time. When she finally came to grip that her son wasn’t growing the way she hoped for him to be, it was the saddest moment. At the age of two, Johann should have passed the crawling stage and started walking, or somehow attempted to walk. He should have been responding to noise and the call of his name. He should have been the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little boy running in the house. Sad to know, Johann is the complete opposite.
Janice agonizes in the silence of her heart. Would her son grow big and run someday? When would be the moment that he would be able to meet her when she gets home from work in front of the door, with a smile? Would he someday say ‘Mama, I love you?” Would he ever know how dearly she loves him? How would Janice tell Johann that she would be delighted to hear his first words and would long for him to hug her when she says “Come my son?” Every day, Janice talks of love, patience, maybe even giving more love and giving even more patience!
Patience is what Janice needs, and Johann needs it most. It might be a battle to fight to the finish, and every battle can be won. This is no basket case, as far as I know, many have survived and ended with many happy stories to tell. Janice’s comforts now lie on a dream that, in the fullness of time, her son will become someone great – someone she would be so proud of.
Nevertheless, Johann doesn’t have to be a perfect son for Janice to love. Only for Johann, would she continue to explore avenues, talk about love and communicate with patience. What Janice, a sacrificing mother, cannot do is desert Johann in grief.
God bless the mothers for their unyielding love that see each one of us through. Advance Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers out there!
#1.882516:2780114954.jpg:ericsalace.jpg:Eric Ariel L. Salas, Foreign Eyes: