I have written this article (a memoir actually) in my Creative Writing class. I personally dedicate this to my mother who is working abroad to support our needs. I love you mom... Happy mothers' day...
In the Absence of Light
My life is seemingly perfect as any acquaintance would put it. I have every material thing I could ask for: shelves of my favorite books, up-to-date technological gadgets, top-of-the-line clothing, copies of my favorite movies, a room back home that I can call my own – name it, and I’ve got them all.
I am the envy of my relatives, neighbors and peers: I have achieved far greater honor than any other relatives in the family; I have gained a good reputation and a sense of respect in our neighborhood for the academic achievements I bring back home; I am the head of an academic organization, editor of our publication and consistent academic scholar. There is no doubt I live a perfect life with the smiles I unrelentingly wear every hour of the day, seven days a week.
Conversely, I must confess that the outside look can be so deceiving. Under those portraits of mirth painted on my face is an abyss of clandestine which, for so long, have held to conceal a lonely and sorrowful lad. Yes, I have these material things and a life anyone would risk theirs just to get a hold of mine but there’s one thing I would never barter with what I already have, which they say, I now enjoy. And that is, being in the caring hands and loving arms of my mother.
I remember perfectly well how and why for a decade’s time, I only felt a mother’s touch in not more than ten times, though I know that what I feel is just a speck in her wall of miseries she unbearably carried all throughout those woeful years, which, as of this time, is raging up at an unimaginable height.
Her life had been hell yet she chose to suffer than give us, her children, the unkindly burden. She had a choice but she turned her back just to give us a brighter tomorrow she once envisioned to be her own. She could have been great with the degree she had finished yet she took the “surest path” en route a thorny life in exchange of smiles in our faces every time she sends her pay. I have never seen nor heard anyone as unselfish as my mother – the only person in the world who would make my nearly perfect life complete.
September of the year 1996, as far as I can remember, was the date when it started all. A cousin of mine came all the way from Hong Kong to persuade mother about the great opportunities abroad but she denied the idea, thinking that we were still young. I was a mere eight-year-old boy who knows nothing about the world except school and home. I was there when they talked about the matter but nothing sort of triggered an alarm in my innocent brain cells.
Some time in December that same year, we experienced the most pressing ordeal (in my point of view) in terms of financial matters which paved the way to mother and father’s decision to grab the opportunity. Father lost his job and he feared he could not secure a better one for in every opening is a requirement of an educational attainment higher than an elementary graduate. Mother, at that time, can’t not bear to allow us stop school since she treasures education so much. She gathered all her strengths to find a suitable job and she ended up as a substitute teacher in a barangay elementary school. She’s a bachelor of elementary education diploma-holder.
But all these actions did no good, although we could at least eat three times a day and we have a baon at our lunchboxes in school everyday. And so they did the dreadful thing. They phoned in my cousin to tell that she’s taking the offer.
In the months that followed, mother and father quarreled over their decision. Father insisted that she needed not to go but mother grudgingly disapproves thinking about her meager salary and father’s also for he convinced one of his compadres to allow him drive the tricycle the latter owns and, of course, most of all, the expenses they had spent for mother’s papers to be processed which caused us a mountain of debts.
It was July 11, 1997 when mother and father had their first sorrowful wedding anniversary since the day after that would be their most dreaded time after all those months of decision-making, quarreling and settling everything in. I have seen in their eyes that deep inside their empty stares is a weeping heart avoiding as much as possible to blame one another. At that point, there was no turning back.
I didn’t very much care what was going on since the idea that my mom is leaving is the very least that could come into my fragile mind. But some of my relatives came rushing to our home to escort us and mother to the airport. No one ever spoke to us three about mother’s departure (as far as I can recall) yet they tried their best to show us their melancholic sympathy through telling us stories about mother when she was young and how she had managed to succeed much like what we were doing those times in school.
“Your mother was self-reliant when she was in your age. She had endured a kilometer walk everyday just to reach school” – an aunt said while lending a helping hand on mother’s packing - “no wonder why you three are as much as achievers as your mother.”
And then mother would give a cold laugh and say in her kind and soothing voice “Don’t brag about me in my children.” – and would be followed by a sound of preaching – “it’s not me whom they have to thank. It’s God who gave them their extraordinary brains.” then it would be followed by a cheerful smile at us.
You see, we were literally sticking together during that time since our house back then was incapable of accommodating such a number of people. And such conversations continued until the time we really have to leave – still having not a single hint nor care of what was about to happen.
At the stroke of midnight in July 12, we left our house and boarded the jeepney owned by one of my uncles. While we were on the ride, one of my cousins told me that we were invited by my uncle to pay a visit to the place where “airplanes fall.” My nerves jumped as I heard the news and I looked forward to see such beautiful scenery. I fell asleep every so often on that ride since it’s still evening but the continuous laughing, story-telling and honks of other vehicles deprived me from a good sleep.
Nonetheless, it could not be mistaken that there was something troubling mother. From the time we rode the jeepney, she talked very little and continued to stare at a certain point. I felt it even remorseful to see mother trying to embrace us all as one.
“Is there something wrong? Tell it to nanay and everything will be alright,” she said one moment when I was awoken by the hard laughs of my aunts.
“No, nothing po,” I would tell at a begrudged smile as the thought of the mysteriousness of mother and the untimely trip seep once again into my conscious senses.
“Son, take care of your sisters, okay? Don’t give father a headache. Obey him with respect as you are to me. Study hard because that’s the only thing that I and your father could give you. Always pray to God. He’ll give us strength..,” mother told me in one of those moments of wake but I paid a little attention. I did not develop the understanding at that time about the strangeness of her lines. I courteously answered with a nod and her smiles became even emptier.
It was already morning when I was awoken for the last time. Mother had gone to sleep and we were then passing the towering skyscrapers and flyovers, the Metro Manila slum areas and the seemingly unending traffic. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the trip by looking at and pointing and counting the towering buildings and the big city roads. The sight was exhilarating and that was my very first memory of Manila. Then, a moment later, I saw airplanes becoming bigger and bigger in sight as they “fall” from the sky. The awe-inspiring sight kept me curious about how these bird machines fly with such an enormous size, judging also by the thundering sound it produce. By that time, mother was already awake and joined my aunts and cousins in their conversations. They were laughing yet mother’s eyes don’t tell the same. Something really is troubling her, I said to myself. It’s something like that rare occasion when your hearts meet to communicate the feelings they try to conceal yet overpowering with the need for outbursts just to alleviate the weight. But mother held strong of her feelings.
We finally reached the airport. There were rows of every kind of vehicle you could imagine. Upon our arrival, we ate our breakfast. I was eventually dragged by my cousins to the other parts of the airport. I must admit, the experience was very memorable because at the sight of it, I fell under the impression that I’m in a foreign land because of the sophistication I only had the chance to see in TV and yet I was there. Different kinds of people were pouring in and out of the main door of the building with others in the background, calling out the names of those who come out with excitement painted on their faces. And then, I remembered, where is mother?
I was brought later at the departure area, although at the first mention of it, nothing in particular crossed in my mind. But by the mention of my mother’s name, I was aghast to hear them telling something I can’t quite comprehend.
“Two long years, no vacation yet with a good price every month. But I trust that she’s gonna make it though. I mean, how many have gone there that lasted only for two years? Probably the weaker ones only. With that opportunity, I wouldn’t be surprised if after two years, she’ll return again and again.”
Halfway through their conversation, some of our companions have cared to join us in the wait. It was only then that the true nature of our travel became clearer and clearer.
“Your mother, in a few minute’s time will be boarding an airplane bound to Hong Kong,” – a sympathetic aunt told me – “Do you know where that is?” she asked in a somewhat sarcastic manner, as if half-expecting that I already have answers in my mind.
I shook my head wonderingly, trying to extract anything out of my young brain about the faintest hint regarding the place in question. But the lack of knowledge made me more and more irritated. Is it that far? Could we not pay her a visit from time to time? I would like to ask them these questions yet I know they would only say things far from my expectations. I feared their answers. My aunt did not have the chance to continue what she was saying because my cousin broke out with a shout “Tiya Norma’s over there!”
I could not see anything. I struggled to go as close as I could but I was barred by rails. I asked them where she was and they pointed a place obscured by a throng of people going in the same way. “Nay!” I shouted, but no one turned her back. I shouted and shouted but my uncle lifted his hand in my shoulder only to tell that she could not hear me anymore because she’s already inside and it’s time that we go. For a moment, I scanned the inside of the building from where I was standing, trying to catch a glimpse of her, but she’s nowhere to be found.
I wanted to see her so badly that anger, mixed with an agonizing thought trickled down my spines. What a cruel thing to do! I never got the chance to give my formal farewell to her, to feel her last embrace and seek for her motherly kiss for the last time before the two-year ordeal. But none of them possibly had the slightest idea of what I felt during those times. After all, she’s not their mother who devoted her time in taking good care of me all those years. She’s not their mother who first taught me how to read and write. She’s not their mother who consoled me in my roughest time in school. And she’s not their mother who became my only source of strength to stand tall everyday while expressing her own little way of a motherly love and care that is unlike any others.
My blood surged with hatred with some of our companions for hiding from us the very fact which we solely deserved to know. They kept on blabbering and blabbering until we arrived at the parking area yet I felt like I was deaf as we approached the jeepney. They told comforting words but nothing can delude me from the emptiness I felt inside and a heavy lump in my chest. I wanted to burst out but I know better than to do so since there can be nothing I could do. By that time, mother’s plane would have taxied and was already in the air. The thought of sight-seeing and wondering at the gigantic establishments diminished as I decided to sleep my anger over.
When I woke up, we were already home but the thought of mother’s leaving pierced my heart in two. Nobody among us talked much. As I found the right place to pour out my fury, tears automatically welled off my eyes. I know they too feel the same and I know father felt the same either because I heard him whimper. Silence at home was unbearable that night. I know the next two years would be different. I know I had to make myself ready for the environment which became new at my sight. Nothing can be done but to go with the flow. That’s just what we must do.
I had no doubt about how much everything would change. In the absence of light in the family, life was difficult at first since my father know nothing about house-keeping work and he has a very very short temper. But I admire my father in his pursuit to learn nanay’s ways. In due time, he became a professional na-tay to us. At this moment, it would be fitting to tell how much I thank God for giving me parents any teenager like me would envy of.
After Nanay’s two-year contract, she was hired once again by the same employer up until now because they can’t risk letting go of someone they now consider a family. Although mother would have denied the offer, she knows better to take it to ensure that the three of us would graduate college and be the person we wanted to become no matter how hurtful it is for her not to see us grow up. I know it’s every mother’s desire to see their children whom they took care inside them for nine months and eventually gave life on earth become the best they can be through their guidance and tender love. It would be hard for them to bear that after their sufferings, they would go home with nothing but a bunch of drop-outs and delinquents, much like the story in the movie Anak (a local movie about the hardships of a mother in working abroad and coming home with her children unhappy of her presence), which every time mother would watch, she would cry a river of tears.
However, despite the geographical hindrance, she never failed to do her family task of being a mother. She’s always there in my triumphs and defeats, in my agony and bliss and in every hope turned despair. She’s as if always at my side to keep me warm over the cold and provide me support with her wide smile in my struggles. Everything that I achieved and will still achieve will be a product of the love my mother never failed to give. It’s she who deserved to have all the things I now have.
Now, at this point, I must iterate that in the absence of light, life may not be as perfect as in the case of others, but as for me and my family, I never thought that light can find its way home no matter how far and impossible it may seem.
