Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.  ~From the television show The Wonder Years

As much as possible, I want to live in the present. I try. I am not happy to admit this but there are times (a lot of times) when I take myself down memory lane and think about things that were and think about the choices that I have made. What if… What if… What if…

I can think of more than a hundred phrases after the line ‘what if’ but I might go crazy (or crazier than I already am). So I look back and smile… Not always. Sometimes I look back and just feel this void that I can’t explain. I think that’s normal, right? We all (now I’m assuming) look back to a certain point in our lives.  Some good. Some bad. Some, never mind.

My not so straight friend: “So, what do you want right now to free yourself?”

Me (yes, ME): “I don’t know… I just want to cry and cry some more until no tears would fall. I want to shout, as loud as I can, until I lose my voice… I want to run, run as far away as I can, until my legs can’t run anymore… Then my heart will break… Then I’ll mend it…. So that he can break it again…”

What can I say? I was young. I was in love. And I got my heart broken. Nothing scientific about it. 

But, no matter how broken I was, I managed to make myself whole again. Whole, but with some chips and dents in some places. 

Still me. Fortunately. Unfortunately.

Today is Mother’s day. I woke up with greetings from family and friends. When I checked my FB News feed, I couldn’t help but smile. I saw the pictures of my friends’ awesome mothers.

I grew up with my mom. My father wasn’t always around and when I was 16, he left us completely. When I was young, I used to pity myself coz i didn’t have a father. When I saw my friends with their fathers, there was this pain in my chest that I could only explain as longing. I was young and I didn’t know any better. It took me a long time to realize that I need not look for someone who didn’t want to be part of my life. It took me a long time to realize that I was already complete. My mom, despite her imperfections, loved me perfectly and made me complete. We fought. We still fight. But at the end of the day, I am grateful that I have her as my mom.

Mom, you are not showy but I know that you love me. I am a cracked egg but you love me just the same. Thank you for all your sacrifices. I love you. We love you.

I am the youngest of four siblings. I have 2 sisters and 1 brother.I share my mom with them. And I share my sisters with my nephews and nieces. Before my sisters became mothers, they were my mom too. And I think using the past tense is incorrect. Till now, they still are. My sisters give me strength. When everyone else is pulling me down, they are there to pull me up. When our father left, my sisters sent me to school… My sisters, together with my mom, clothed me and fed me.  To say that I am blessed is not enough to describe just how blessed I am to have them in my life.

Ate Marol and Ate Marlou, thank you for everything. For being a mom, a father, and a sister all rolled into one. Thank you for educating me, for loving me, for accepting my craziness. Most of all, thank you for loving my Bela as your own.