The kid that I used to know

Finding a childhood friend in Friendster kind of reminded me of the many childhood memories I had. I can not help it but laugh at the so many things that happened in childhood that I do not seem to care about so much but in fact, are happy memories. Well to the friends who were part of those memories, here is a trip down memory lane.

I do not remembering living in any other house other than the one that we have now in Lower Antipolo but I was told we transferred there when I was two years old. Considering that our subdivision was a housing project of the AFPMBAI, most of those who live there are either in the Military or in the Police. Its not really a wonder why this place is called Katarungan Village.

I still do not understand why little children just can't be told to stop playing. In our house there was a simple rule, sleep in the afternoon and you can only go out after three in the afternoon. For some reason I do not want to sleep and I will just stare outside from the window waiting for the time I can go out. Then my aunt sees me looks me over and discovers that I did not take the required afternoon nap, suddenly I am not allowed to go out and I spend the rest of the afternoon staring at the window, ogling at the kids playing outside. The next day the same thing happens and I begin to wonder what is it that my aunt is looking for to say that I have taken my nap. After sometime, I discovered it was the eyes. When she looks me over shortly before I am allowed to go out, she will look for the "sleeping signs" on my eyes. Well that was easy, after sometime I was sure that I will go out every three in the afternoon. Shortly before three, about five minutes before my aunt will begin her inspection, I would push my face to the sofa. After a few minutes, I will pretend to be groggy and as I look up to my aunt, I have the "sleeping signs."

And then there was this fascination about super powers at a time when I idolized the likes of Bioman, Maskman all those Japanese kid shows. Well, I too have my super powers (ha ha). I was with my other playmates, of course there were also five of us, all the others become sidekicks. We did what normal kids do, pretend that we were grown ups (that have super powers that is). Walk around the village as if we own it, fight with one another just to end up playing together again. I guess all kids have been through that stage.

In our little community, it was as if life was not a problem and all we cared about was to be able to play the next day with our playmates. At the time when the country was suffering from power shortage and there was brown-out everyday, we loved it. We loved it because we will be allowed to go out at night and play hide and seek. During the 1989 coup, when tanks were around our village so that the rebel soldiers can not go home to their families (as I said almost everyone in our village were either in the Police or the Military), we played just the same while our fathers are out there fighting each other. The truth is I loved it because I can brag at school that there are tanks in our village. It's funny how things can be so simple for little kids.

I wish I did not grow up, but I did and soon all of us seemed like strangers. Each of us either developed new circles of friends, moved to another place or just be contented at staying at home and watching TV. We do not fight anymore because we barely talked and every once in a while we see each other waiting for a ride going out of the village, we just nod at each other and that's it. Every now and then we get to talk about things but its as if everyone is just trying to live life and be controlled by it, I wonder how it came to that.

Yesterday, I was browsing through different Friendster accounts when I recognized a familiar pretty face. I could feel her super powers(ngeks), she was one of the "chosen" five who were gifted with the power to be like Bioman. Considering my isolation and lack of social life in this place, it was something that gave me so much joy, I was just so happy to find a childhood friend that I have not seen in almost ten years. Well, our lives are different now, she seems to be leaning into becoming a member of the millionaire's club while I'm becoming a soldier, just like our dads. I reminded her how I used to make her cry and call her all sorts of names and its good that she did not remember most of it. Other than that, for the first time in so many years, I remembered how fun it was to be a kid. Its not like I hate the fact that I have to worry about how I am going to have enough savings for my future, how I am going to live this life independently and be a productive member of society. Its more of going back to the simple joys of being able to play with friends and not caring about the power problems of the country. Or bragging about tanks and be the center of attention at a time when the country's government is in deep trouble, or simply having super powers. I realized that as we grew and our lives became more and more complicated, we have forgotten the simple joys that we enjoyed as little children. Somehow, I could say that these memories remain in our hearts for the reason that in all of the challenges we face each day, we have to take the backseat and enjoy the little joys of life.

Thanks Thea for reminding me :)

Unearthing the feeling

I want to write about a thought that has occupied me since last night, but I do not know where to start. I tried getting inspiration from my previous entries and although I remember the feelings I had in writing those, I do not know how to unearth the feelings I have right now. Finally I decided to just repost the entries those entries and let it linger.

This entry is taken from this blog about a year ago:

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

The prayer of a longing heart

"...It was not long ago when I started feeling differently about the things that are happening to me. This different feeling has developed into a longing for something or rather for someone. Believe it or not there is never a day that I do not think of that someone. A few months ago I decided that I will just wait how things will come. I will never be aggressive, I will never push my luck. I decided to stand firm in my convictions that love will come in a manner that only God dictates. The letters that I wrote her once a week became an activity that I looked forward to and for no apparent reason my life suddenly drifted around her. It's surprising because she never replied to any of the letters I sent her and yet each day I grow more and more engrossed by my feelings. I continued to ponder on this finding reason but finally just believing that something is happening outside my understanding. The love letter that I wrote a few days ago was something that came out just by thinking about her while my entries has somewhat revolved on topics about love. The Formal Dinner last Saturday although a disaster became somewhat of a cause for anticipation of next year's Formal Dinner. The talk of our rings coming and other class memorabilia do not come to me as a sign of achieving my dreams but a reminder that there has to be someone with me when I achieve my dreams. Maybe I am just imagining things, seeing everything as a reflection of something that I do not have but I remembered my prayer a long long time ago I realized she was the one, I said to God "Lord, guide my heart." I gave it all up to Him the moment I felt that tickle in my system and I am believing that it still is. With all the "funny" feelings I have I can just be hopeful and continue to believe in the beauty of this wonderful journey that I am going through. I guess I really am in love, by all means my heart tells me that I am in that state and I am finally accepting it. As I stand in silence talking to God in one dark corner with several others saying their own concerns, I finally admitted to God that I love her and I am trusting God to do what He has to do."

God, should I still go on??

A mother's legacy (the conclusion)

(Note: This is part of a series of stories dedicated to my mother who passed away last 13 April 2000. Her birthday is on April 27th)

Living the legacy

Most people would say that one of the hardest thing to experience in this world is to lose a parent. I also thought of that before. When I learned of my mother's cancer, I can not even bare the thought of losing her forever. Thinking about how life has been since she was gone, not much has changed except that this time there will be no mother to call me up in the phone and just talk to me.

I could be the most talkative person in the world. I realized that to a certain extent this has been shaped by my experience with the relationship I had with my mother. I could say that the love I have for her was nurtured by endless conversations that was done from different sides of the world. I could really bond with people just by being able to talk to them. I have also developed the ability to write my thoughts well and really express my heart out in the words that I use. Its because in so many times when I feel I really had to tell my mother something, I just have to write it.

When I first published part one of this series, I received a comment that I have no intention to approve but will just state it in this entry. The comment said that my experience (particularly this one) caused me to "f*ck up with relationships". I do not have idea how that person came up with that conclusion but I beg to disagree. I realized that the kind of people we become is a reflection of the parents we have even if they are not with us all the time. My mother did not have the opportunity to nurture me the way other parents had but I could say that I came out better than my other peers. I am proud to say that I never went into drugs (not even tried) and did not go to jail. Somehow, I could conclude that parenting is the perfect example of leadership by example. A parent does not have to be with us all the time, they just have to set the example of how is to be a person and by God's grace everything else follows. I may not be the best person there is out there but I know I am not a bad one either. In my journey, I have done so many things, both good and bad, but I know whether or not people will agree with me, I have not failed my mother into becoming the person that she can be proud of. If she can see me now, I know she is happy with the way I turned out.

So what is it really that my mother has left in me as an enduring legacy? Let me answer that by narrating something that happened between me and my brother. As I said, I have done things that are bad and that caused a big quarrel with my brother. I was ashamed of myself and did not want to show my face to my brother. Finally, when I was confronted by my brother my mother's legacy lingered. He said that no matter how bad I have become, he knows that my mother will never want us to be enemies over anything no matter how big. Up to this day, the words of my brother still linger in me. What he was telling me was that, he values relationships more than the problems. He values our being brothers more than whatever it is that I have done. He loved me more than anything else in this world. My mother's legacy is that. To love with all of one's heart no matter how hard the circumstances are and to believe in the enduring capability of unconditional love.

I was the last son to see my mother before she died. It was in the middle of March 2000, almost a month before she past away. It was in a small nipa hut, she was weak but she had the eyes that was simply happy. Again, there were no words just moments of being together and what I did not know was that it was to be the last time that I will touch her. When I finally left her, she hugged me very tightly. It was as if she knew it would be the last time she will be able to do it. I walked away with my tears rolling down my cheeks, it was indeed the last time.

Now I write this testament to a mother that made me the person that I am right now. My story is not very happy nor did it end with living happily ever after. But my story is a reality that many of us has overlooked. The reality that love endures forever... even beyond death.

The End

A mother's legacy (part 3)

(Note: This is part of a series of stories dedicated to my mother who passed away last 13 April 2000. Her birthday is on April 27th)

The Homecoming

Just like how it was before the day was normal and yet we were all excited. Unlike what happened 7 years ago, today's event was something we looked forward to. By three in the afternoon, I was inside a taxi towards Fort Bonifacio. The day was normal and yet the emotions were raging. For the first time since I was ten, I hugged my mother.

The day was 23 December 1999. It was the culmination of a long journey, completing the full circle that began and ended in the arms of the people that she loved. At ten, I was a little boy with so much innocence; now, I was seventeen, not yet fully grown but as a young man full of ambition. There wasn't much talk, it was a silent homecoming with a dying mother holding her three children for the first time in seven years. I can't believe that was actually happening.

My mother went home after realizing that her cancer will kill her. In 1996 when she first discovered her ailment, she battled it out, standing her ground against the disease all because she wanted to see the fulfillment of the dreams of her children. Her reason for leaving the country did not waiver and not loneliness nor disease can stop her from making sure of a good life to me and my other siblings. It was a fierce battle between the spirit and the body. The spirit continues to go on while the body ceases to do what it should do.

My world came to a temporary halt when out of the blue there wasn't any communication from my mother; not a phone call, not even a letter. There was also no money coming in for my education and I was broke. By September 1999, I got a phone call from my aunt in Manila, Mommy was dying.

I could remember the exact moment where it seemed that the rest of the world was some noisy haze and all I was feeling was the tremendous fear of losing a mother. It was a reality that was not easy to swallow but it was the truth and I can not do anything about it.

With all four of us (my mother and the three of us) on the bed, she directed us to a wound on her abdomen, still very fresh. It was a one week old incision that was evidence to the rabid effect of cancer taking my beloved mother away from me and the rest of the world. After learning that it was hopeless, she immediately decided to fly to the Philippines even against the instructions of the doctors who were seeing her. I knew she was desperate, she did not want to die without seeing us for the last time.

Christmas of 1999 was both the saddest and the happiest Christmas I can remember. Happy because finally I was with my mother but sad because although I keep on denying it, I knew this was to be my last Christmas with her. We did not have a lavish feast, I do not even remember what the food was, I was focused on my mother. I also knew that while we suffered seeing her in that situation, she suffered the more knowing that she was to leave us. But being the woman that she was, she was tough, her spirit did not falter and she tried her best not to show how much pain and suffering she was going through.

The nights that followed was a torture to me. From across the room, I could hear her screams over the pain she was feeling. I can not do anything, I can just listen as my mother, the mother that I have not seen for seven years, suffer in agony of her illness.

This was to be her last homecoming not just for the three of us but for the rest of the world. She tried meeting all the people she can think of, going to many different places despite her state. Finally, in 13 April 2000, she left us. She left us for good and she will forever remain a memory-- a loving memory.

to be concluded...

A mother's legacy (part 2)

(Note: This is part of a series of stories dedicated to my mother who passed away last 13 April 2000. Her birthday is on April 27th)

Bridging the distance

I will sleep early around nine in the evening. By two or three in the morning, I will wake up to answer the phone. I will be talking to my mother from overseas until early in the morning.

Thanks to technology, it was as if my mother is just in some other Philippine Island who calls me up as often as she misses me. Back in the days when having a phone inside your house was for the rich and famous, I had to contend myself to the weekly phone calls we make from a payphone around 30 minutes away from our house. In due time, I learned not to cry so much over the phone and began to talk sense to my mother. It was the only way aside from the letters that took years to arrive.

In the year 1993, about a month after my mother left, an Uncle died. Another uncle collected me with my other brother from our house and off we went to the airport to attend the wake. At that time, there was this popular advertisement about calling the States, and at 10 I thought calling my mother was that easy. For some reason, I saw the payphone at the airport as a way to talk to my mother, dialled the number without the slightest idea how to even call her. I remembered being scolded by the operator on the other line. I was so scared and did not tell anyone, I just missed my mother badly.

When I lived at a house that has their own telephone in High School we had more opportunities to talk a lot. She tried very much to be updated with everything that was going on in my life. She asked me about crushes, about things in school and my other activities. I know it wasn't the typical way of being parent to a child, but I think that was the best that she could do to at least continue to be part of our lives. In time I did understand why we just have to be phonepals, it was the best that we could have to remain a family.

I guess the hardest that my mother was faced then was to make me understand the so many issues that hounded our family that she left unexplained. Leaving me at ten, much of the problems in our family was like a haze, it was unclear and very confusing. My mother understood and really did try her best. Her answers to my questions, although hurt me a bit, was something that guided me growing up. For some reason, her stories had so much effect on me that it shaped the kind of person I am now. From the phonecalls, the letters and to the voice tapes that I was sent all of it had some kind bearing in the way I took things.

I will not wish the kind of childhood and bonding I had to be the same as that of the children I will be having. Although I do not exactly agree with my mother's decision at leaving us so that she can provide our financial needs, I know that she did everything she had to give me and my other siblings the best life she wants. Hers is an example of being undaunted by circumstances and deciding to pursue everything possible for the people that she loved. For how she was, she taught me the value of love that never ceases. A mother's love that is felt even beyond great distances. A love that will continue to endure despite of the many things in this world that will hinder such devotion. I guess that is what love is.

to be continued...