show my gratitude to the mother I only knew for 8 years in my life? How would I express the deep longing to have her around knowing that I was accused of killing her? Should I be scared to say that I miss her? That I shouldn't be missing her because I caused her death, anyway? How could the 8 year old little girl in me say that I miss her when at the time that little girl was hated, unwanted and maligned?
Sometimes I find myself wallowing in the voices of the people who accused me of her death. My soul anguishing as I see them one by one in my mind. And then the gnarling sets in. I couldn't help myself from being pulled down into the darkest pit where no one was there to help me out. No familiar faces, no love ones. NO ONE. I was alone.
Then I would start collecting memories from the 8 years that I saw her. She was there; stitching my notebooks, handing me a present wrapped in a small box; a matchbox with jewelry inside. She was there telling me to read aloud. In English. She was there singing, yes singing. She was singing at church, at home and at the studio. She was there encouraging me to sing.And then she was in her booth. Her voice waving on the air giving home tips to her listeners; mostly mothers. She was there in the family picnics. She was there reprimanding the four of us because we didn't take a nap in the afternoon. She was there defending me from a pervert man.She was there helping other people. She was there scolding the housemaids for listening to another radio station aside from her station. She was there attending school plays for me. She was there giving instructions to the dressmaker of the particulars of our dresses. She never made us wear retail clothing; they were always tailored. And lastly, she was there concealed by a curtain on a stretcher. I couldn't go to her because there was an excruciating pain from my waist down to my legs. I tried to crawl but someone saw me and picked me up. All I heard during that time were people praying and rebuking. I wanted to say, shut up people! I want to hear my mother. What is she saying? Is she looking for me? Is she angry at me for losing the other pair of my shoes? I never thought the accident was fatal. I thought we both made it; bruised and injured only. Apparently not. Her struggling voice was the last memory I had of her.
Growing up I learned to accept that no one's going to be there for me except God. I flourished into a woman whose heart depends and relies only to God. No family. No relatives. I worked hard and didn't bother anyone as I believed I have caused too much griefs and problems already.The distance from all the relatives became my safety net.
Now, I want to put up that net again. God knows how much I struggled to understand every detail of my mother's death. From now on, whoever relates to me should believe that I didn't kill my mother. Other than this, I don't have any business with anyone anymore. Life has a lot more to offer. I am not going backwards. There are more people needing help than spending every moment thinking that there are vultures who are just waiting to attack me again just to eat up the dead part of my past. I think I let down my net for a while thinking that things have changed but I was totally wrong. I was fortunate enough that the mask went down early. It saved me time and efforts.
Nay, only you and God know the whole story. However things turned out I never doubted the thought that you would love me unconditionally. All I can say right now is, THANK YOU. Thank you for giving me the chance to be called your daughter. Thank you for those eight wonderful-learning years of knowing you. I know you're the only person who wouldn't hate and judge me.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NAY.
