Mother is 67, Going 68, and I Am 49
Posted on March 2, 2007
Filed Under Parenting and Family, Poetry | Viewed 5441 times
He was 26, she was 17 when they got married
Mother, one of 6 sisters and 1 brother, not even a high school graduate
She didn’t like school, they were so poor she was not motivated
She was tomboyish, she didn’t even know what she was going through
When Father, one of 11 brothers and 1 sister (plus a few more half siblings)
A fine budding optometrist, aggressive, brimming with youth
Proposed to her. Mother said “Kasal kung kasal” (“wedding and no other”)
Father found himself proposing marriage through my grandmother
Immediately followed a wedding, by a judge and a priest one month thereafter.
They had 3 children, 1 girl and 2 boys, those were me and my 2 brothers.
He was 42, she was 33, and I was 16, my brothers 14 and 12
Father suddenly disappeared, everyone thought he was captured by the NPAs
A few years later Mother found out that he was living with another woman
With whom he bore a son and a daughter, it came to us as a shock.
What pained Mother more was that Father’s family knew about it all the time.
Mother hurt inside, Mother toiled, Mother sacrificed, Mother cried
Even if I and my siblings were too young to understand, we also hurt inside
We were in want of a father, of more food, of new clothes, of things material
But most of all of a mother who would shower us with affection
It was naught, I don’t remember any public show of affection, nor hugs nor kisses
She was just a mother, spurned, she cooked for us, she bathed us
She brought us to school, she went to church with us, she took care of us
She did all sorts of jobs, sewing, selling insurance and helping my grandmother
Mother must have been contented seeing us her children shine
Herself staying behind the scenes, watching us accomplish our dreams
Taking pride in discussing our insignificant achievements
She must have ignored her interests in letting us her children fulfil our ambitions
She must have been humiliated and hurting all the time, but she was good to us.
Flashback to my growing years
We were happy despite Father’s temperament and Mother’s country girl act
We had fun with our playmates, we played by the river, we wove dreams
Each year we always looked forward to a 2-week holiday in
Father and Mother were a happy go lucky motorcycle riding couple
Zooming in and out of highways, chilling out with other motorcycle riding friends
Leaving us children in the care of my grandmother, uncle and aunts
But it was not all fun. Father was strict. He was hard on one of my brothers
Who had difficulty in school. How he would spank and whip and curse
While Mother looked helplessly away, while I and my other brother cowered in fear
The next day would just be an ordinary day, as if nothing untoward happened at all.
Through all my young years, Father never allowed me to have boy friends
Boy, was I really afraid, I dared not break his rules. All I did was study and read
People thought I was the perfect daughter, obedient, loving and caring
Little did they know that inside I was rebelling, inside I was wanting for affection.
Grandmother was the person who showered me with affection
She would bring me everywhere she went, proud of her little girl
She must have been hard on herself and her 6 daughters and 1 son
Whom she raised all by herself from the time her husband died
A month before she gave birth to her youngest child.
But with me, she was all soft, and gentle, and sweet, and pampering
I was her world, she showered me with hugs and kisses, just like a mother would
She was my security blanket, my comfort, my pseudo mother
Bless her soul, she was 70 when she died, I was 37, and I cried a lot.
He was 47, she was 38, and I was 21 when I walked down the aisle
On that beautiful Wednesday morning, 27 years ago, my wedding day
Father must have cried inside all the time, her little girl turned to a woman
Unable to bear it all, tears fell down his face, while Mother was beaming with pride
Maybe like all fathers would on their daughter’s wedding day he was unsure
That his daughter has made the right decision and was ready for marriage
Despite his leaving the coop, I was still the apple of Father’s eyes.
Mother lived with me from the time I gave birth to my second child
Father never failed to visit each time I had a baby, all 4 boys and 3 girls
He would come for birthdays, anniversaries, sometimes just to surprise
When he got ill, Mother and I took him away from his second family
To tend for him, to make up for lost time, to bring him back to God
He was 69 when he passed away, Mother was 60, I was 42
I was in
He was still my Father. I cried for the last time, to say my final good-bye.
Mother is 67, going 68, and I am 49
Mother is Mommylola to my kids, Ma or “Inda” to me
Sometimes she is my friend, sometimes my enemy, sometimes in between
Sometimes I don’t understand her, sometimes I lose my patience
Sometimes she doesn’t understand me, sometimes she loses her patience
I feel guilty, she feels guilty, what goes between us is a complex set of emotions
A seesaw of feelings, of anger, sometimes resentment, sometimes competition
But most of all, love, and a bond that exists only between a mother and daughter
I am headstrong, determined to be the head of my home, not her
Perhaps because we both have strong personalities, extremes in many ways
With the kids, she is all soft, and warm and cuddly
She pampers them, kisses them, hugs them, and tells them, “I love you”
Public displays of affection never experienced with her while I was growing up
Her voice dominates the house, her laughter is contaminating
She talks incessantly, she nags but with good intentions
She takes care of my household, the dogs, the kids, my husband and me
Mother is 67, going 68, and I am 49
Together we mature in many ways, knowing our imperfections
Learning to be more of friends than enemies, more of partners than competitors
Side by side we go through daily struggles, hardships and obstacles
I appreciate what Mother has done for the family through all the years
She has respected my individuality, my opinions and considered my advice
We have learned to share sensitivity, empathy, wisdom, will power, dedication
Perseverance and firmness that we pass on to my children, her grandchildren
I find gratification for her unconditional love, encouragement, prayers
And respect for all the things valued in life because of her
While I, her daughter, become a pillar of support for Mother in the later years
We go through the innumerable struggles of this love-hate relationship
Through the conflicts and disagreements
No other relation is as perfect as this complex but strong bond
Shared between my Mother, 67, going 68, and me, her daughter, 49.
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Dine Racoma is Sexy Mom, a Filipina doing what she likes best—writing, her passion. She writes freelance, does research, advises on new media, and manages a virtual assistance office for home-based jobs. A mother of 7 (what joy!) foremost, a wife, MIL, grandma to 2 pretty girls and an angel in heaven, sister, daughter, friend. Was in the corporate world for 27 years, the first 5 as Executive Secretary to an affiliate of the country’s biggest drug chain, and the last 22 as an international civil servant in an international development bank with HQ in Manila. Traveled extensively to many countries bringing about rich experiences and lessons learned to share with dear Readers. All these—in The D Spot
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It’s good that families have strong bonds … It’s one of the most amazing thing that someone could wish for.
Wow! This is really good, Dine! I was teary-eyed (and still is) the whole time I was reading this post. Made me reminisce every moment I had with my mom. She passed away Sep 2005 and I still miss her terribly.
Thanks for sharing this.
Happy Friday! God bless!
Nice stories,Sexy Mom!The`re very touching coz they have your sensible touches
Enjoy the rest of your Friday!
Beautiful post. My eyes misted. Made me remember my own mom—the ups and downs of our relationship but constantly the love. I remember the year the year she died … it was march, didnt cry much … i don’t really cry at funerals … A few months later it was Mother’s Day. I recall thinking I had no one to visit, to buy flowers for, to show my usually undemonstrated love that one day in the year. Then I wept.
advance happy birthday to your wonderful mom, she was able to raise well her children even she got married at became widow at young age.
Such a treasure that cannot be bought by anything and from anywhere in this world.
Beautifully written Dine! I can relate to your story. It brought back memories of my mother and suddenly tears rolled down my cheek.
maybe now you understand about the comments i made in PMN—you stirred so vivid memories when i read your post, but all’s well now, thanks!
wipes tears
My family is still…intact…so to speak. Just a reality check that families do undergo hardships in order to make the family bond stronger. I should keep that in mind.
Hi Dine! This is beautiful- so from the heart. sniff, sniff It reminded me of my relationship with mama. I suddenly missed her so i’m going to give her a call. Thanks for sharing!
Loved the style. People will start copying that for sure. :p
we all undergo our own family turmoils.. and what matters is.. how we made it through and all that…
soo nice… ty for sharing this..
This is a beautiful & touching entry Dine. In a few stanzas you were able to give us a picture of how you & your mother and your relationship have evolved through the years. Again, a beautiful piece….
Have a good weekend!
What a very touching life story. I can relate your story to my latest post.
Great piece Ms. Dine. You and your mom grew up together.
i remember when i was in highschool, my dad gave me an article written by that author.
i liked the stoiry. remided me of my dad of course. he’s still my father. and my mom knows, he’s still her husband. so if he’ll get sick, i’m sure he’ll return to us. labo! pag may kailangan dun babalik
What a beautiful post! A nice tribute to your mother too.
Such a wonderful write-up about tita, who definitely deserves all the love and praises in the world! It runs in the family, our mothers are one of a kind…
Its in the blood I guess,I got misty eyed especially when u talked about lola… who also treated me the same! God has blessed them with such wonderful and caring heart and soul!
Beautiful post, Sexy Mom… Lovely tribute to the evolution of relationships within your family..
Blessings to you and those you love. Hope you have a great weekend !
hi Shari – lucky girl!
Chateau – do give her a call! she’ll like that.
thanks, Benj – oh well, if it would make people better, they could copy the style…but the story, i am sure, will be different in some ways.
tina, gina, and KK - thanks! it was a revelation, we all have a story of our lives…
Ann – i do read your posts. i was so touched with the way your kids reacted…and i am sure the reassurance meant a lot to them. it is really traumatic to be parted from one or both parents.
tin-tin – that’s how it is most of the time…we can’t help but take care of our parents, despite their mistakes, we owe them our lives, and we are not to judge them for their actions.
nice heart and loving annie – it is a tribute to our mothers.
you know writing this post has made me feel much better, it is a revelation in itself, and it has also made me understand how moms are, esp when they grow older (we all will age, too, so, by understanding ourselves, we will be able to beautifully handle situations with our kids (esp with daughters)
Ning – pleasant surprise, dear cousin! yes, our moms are a different breed – same cut. how we love them!
and lola, bless her soul, sometimes, i do miss her, but i know she is happy where she is now.
Hi Dine,
What a great post and a very nice tribute to your mother.
Mothers an indeed a beautiful treasure and they continue to shine through their years with us.
What a coincidence that we posted something so similar on the same day.
btw, my family moved to Baguio when I was 4 or 5 yrs old, so I grew up and studied there.
Very touching story, Dine. My life parallel yours somewhat. My father, ah, yes, the same…and my mother same…aren’t they great. I wrote a poem about it…”Through My Eyes.” Thanks for sharing your story.
[...] something my Mom wrote about MommyLola, as we call her at home. And maybe it would somehow explain why I love and respect my Lola so much, [...]
thanks, Leah – that was a wonderful piece you wrote, too – a timely tribute to your mother. it’s also nice to learn that we are “kabalens”, though you moved to Baguio (the vacation city of my youth).
hi, Leah – thanks for sharing “Through My Eyes”—same story we have! and great mothers who served them, despite their flying the coop.
nice and touching stories, na-miss ko mama ko who died years ago.
hi! thanks for your comment in my blog. you know, ive been lurking here a long time
got teary-eyed while reading this post. there may be a lot of struggles but this goes to show how deep your love is for each other.
I’m reading it again for the nth time… made me look back to the kind (quality) of relationship I built with my mom and my family. Kind of hard to connect after a long time of being “emotionally” away from her. Thank you for making me realize how valuable my mom is.
Hi Dine! I really admire your compositions including the stories you sent through e mail years back. While reading this poem, I feel like you are beside me narrating your life.
Bea
[...] I blog, so that they will know when to come back. My blogging is kinda witty, light material, open, sometimes personal, sometimes funny, sometimes poetic. My favorites are my series on “The [...]
[...] I blog, so that they will know when to come back. My blogging is kinda witty, light material, open, sometimes personal, sometimes funny, sometimes poetic. My favorites are my series on “The [...]
[...] toast to mothers, grandmothers, aunts, daughters and friends, a toast to our Filipina countrymen, a toast to all [...]
[...] One of the most touching poems i wrote about my mother is here: Mother is 67, Gong 68, and I am 49. [...]
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