Written by
Saccharine Ysabel Gatchalian
“Goodbye, mama! See you later. I love you!” I heard my granddaughter shout those enchanting words to her mama from across the street as she walks hurriedly towards the gate of her school. This may be a usual scene I love seeing as I watch my daughter send her child to school every day. Every time I see them, I remember those happy moments I spent with my daughter when she was young, just before she floundered with embarrassment from our borders as her parents.
I wandered along with the parks we once went to together, and commit to memory the times she asked me for everything she wanted to know, and how she told me all her feelings and thoughts. I could say that we were then a perfect mother-and-child tandem. I was the one she ran to whenever she felt like crying and whenever she was up to something. We would talk to each other about so many things, even nonsense things, and it’s just worth spending time with. We always get carried away by our nifty thoughts. She then would tell me I was the only one she could trust. I remembered her first date; I could sense her nervousness as we held our hands together. I knew she was growing up, and that one day, I would have to let her go. High school graduation came, and she was so keyed up for college. I knew I was growing old. Hehe. By then, I couldn’t believe this was the girl I used to carry, who cried whenever she wanted an ice cream, who would cling to me all the time. Nothing could make me happier than seeing my daughter succeed.
And then the unexpected time came. Maybe she was so carried away by her life, and she was yearning for independence as she graduated from college. “Why won’t you let me go? Mom, I’m not a kid anymore. I get upset whenever my friends tease me as ‘mama’s girl,’ and I’m damn sick of it! So quit causing trouble for me, Mom! I just want my own life! Go live your own!” Then she left. I did not know what has happened to her. I was crying all the time as the blades of her acidic remarks went deep through my bruised heart. It was so painful. It was followed by the death of her father, who got sick of depression. And the death of my whole life came to that moment. The prosperous life with my family left me. I didn’t know what to do. Misery enveloped my entire being as I grew older and weaker – alone.
Many years passed, and in the present, I guess she has already found what she was looking for. She already has a family. Memories are the only ones I embrace in order to be happy. I hope she’s happy now. So I found myself here, wandering along the streets all the time. I left my home because I could not pay for it anymore, and in these wide streets, I was hoping she would recognize me, even just to recognize. I spent my time begging for food or money, with ragged clothes and an old carton is where I would lay my back when I sleep. My home is just where my brittle-boned legs would take me. But every morning, I would go to my granddaughter’s school. I always looked at them, she and her daughter and they were very happy. I always made a way to see her, even for just a glimpse. How I wished my teachings would remain in her even though she had already forgotten me. I hope that as she faced life’s bigger obstacles, she will be able to stand for them. And I felt that I was very proud of her.
Then a startling thing happened, I heard that she was having problems with her husband now, who left her, and she’s very depressed about it. I didn’t want her to be sad. I didn’t want her to feel incomplete. I was still her mother, and I was here for her though not physically. If only I could make her feel my love just like in our old days. She was still my happiness and my love.
And so I walked to the church with my weak legs, to pray for her. It was the least I could do. And there I was, already inside the church with my throbbing knees touching the floor. I cried as I prayed for my daughter. I would not be contented and happy if she was not. I could not stand it if I saw her with full despair. I love her, and she was the only one who could make me happy, though she didn’t realize it.
One day, in front of the church (it’s where I just slept), I was awakened by the church bell and saw her with her whole family walk inside. They were together again and happily living their life. It made me very happy, and a broad smile has been drawn to my old, wrinkled face. My happiness was replete, and I’m so thankful.
And now, as evening deepens, I think it has been a long day – and long life. Now I pray to God for the rest of their lives. I will not stay long anymore. It has proved that my happiness for her will not be broken even though she hurt me. I am a mother, and I love being one. I am now ready as I give my life back to God. So far, as I lie on the usual carton I lay on, my deathbed, along the street, I will leave the world happily knowing that my daughter has reached her dreams. Nothing can make me happier than seeing her delightful. It has mended the wounds of my heart, and I will now join my husband with God. As I close my eyes slowly, I gently utter, “I love you, my child. The Lord will light your path. And don’t worry, mama’s here.”
I wandered along with the parks we once went to together, and commit to memory the times she asked me for everything she wanted to know, and how she told me all her feelings and thoughts. I could say that we were then a perfect mother-and-child tandem. I was the one she ran to whenever she felt like crying and whenever she was up to something. We would talk to each other about so many things, even nonsense things, and it’s just worth spending time with. We always get carried away by our nifty thoughts. She then would tell me I was the only one she could trust. I remembered her first date; I could sense her nervousness as we held our hands together. I knew she was growing up, and that one day, I would have to let her go. High school graduation came, and she was so keyed up for college. I knew I was growing old. Hehe. By then, I couldn’t believe this was the girl I used to carry, who cried whenever she wanted an ice cream, who would cling to me all the time. Nothing could make me happier than seeing my daughter succeed.
And then the unexpected time came. Maybe she was so carried away by her life, and she was yearning for independence as she graduated from college. “Why won’t you let me go? Mom, I’m not a kid anymore. I get upset whenever my friends tease me as ‘mama’s girl,’ and I’m damn sick of it! So quit causing trouble for me, Mom! I just want my own life! Go live your own!” Then she left. I did not know what has happened to her. I was crying all the time as the blades of her acidic remarks went deep through my bruised heart. It was so painful. It was followed by the death of her father, who got sick of depression. And the death of my whole life came to that moment. The prosperous life with my family left me. I didn’t know what to do. Misery enveloped my entire being as I grew older and weaker – alone.
Many years passed, and in the present, I guess she has already found what she was looking for. She already has a family. Memories are the only ones I embrace in order to be happy. I hope she’s happy now. So I found myself here, wandering along the streets all the time. I left my home because I could not pay for it anymore, and in these wide streets, I was hoping she would recognize me, even just to recognize. I spent my time begging for food or money, with ragged clothes and an old carton is where I would lay my back when I sleep. My home is just where my brittle-boned legs would take me. But every morning, I would go to my granddaughter’s school. I always looked at them, she and her daughter and they were very happy. I always made a way to see her, even for just a glimpse. How I wished my teachings would remain in her even though she had already forgotten me. I hope that as she faced life’s bigger obstacles, she will be able to stand for them. And I felt that I was very proud of her.
Then a startling thing happened, I heard that she was having problems with her husband now, who left her, and she’s very depressed about it. I didn’t want her to be sad. I didn’t want her to feel incomplete. I was still her mother, and I was here for her though not physically. If only I could make her feel my love just like in our old days. She was still my happiness and my love.
And so I walked to the church with my weak legs, to pray for her. It was the least I could do. And there I was, already inside the church with my throbbing knees touching the floor. I cried as I prayed for my daughter. I would not be contented and happy if she was not. I could not stand it if I saw her with full despair. I love her, and she was the only one who could make me happy, though she didn’t realize it.
One day, in front of the church (it’s where I just slept), I was awakened by the church bell and saw her with her whole family walk inside. They were together again and happily living their life. It made me very happy, and a broad smile has been drawn to my old, wrinkled face. My happiness was replete, and I’m so thankful.
And now, as evening deepens, I think it has been a long day – and long life. Now I pray to God for the rest of their lives. I will not stay long anymore. It has proved that my happiness for her will not be broken even though she hurt me. I am a mother, and I love being one. I am now ready as I give my life back to God. So far, as I lie on the usual carton I lay on, my deathbed, along the street, I will leave the world happily knowing that my daughter has reached her dreams. Nothing can make me happier than seeing her delightful. It has mended the wounds of my heart, and I will now join my husband with God. As I close my eyes slowly, I gently utter, “I love you, my child. The Lord will light your path. And don’t worry, mama’s here.”
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