post-mother’s day

sneaking to make a mother’s day post. i know i am a day late but well it’s the thought that counts. haha.

anyway, my closest friends know how during my emo moments i talk and write and act like the unwanted kid since ’84 (or ’85).

i did not get that feeling until i learned that once upon a time, when i was still all blood, my mom tried but failed to get rid of me. they say this may be one of the reasons why i grew up a sickly kid.

i was 18 then and it was brought up during a family reunion. and i cried. sometimes i still cry about it.

so, after that i find reasons to support my premise: my mom doesn’t love me. most of the time, when i watch my mom and nephew together i find myself trying to remember any similar moments that i had with her when i was younger. try as i might, i cannot remember even a single split-second snippet. and this is frustrating for me because i am known to have this really amazing memory. either something is blocking my mind to remember them or there aren’t any to retrieve.

i actually remember a lot. but there are no hugs or kisses or playing around. there were refusals – no ballet or piano lessons, you cannot have this or do not join that.

at times, i also find myself pondering why among three children, i am the only one who spent most time growing up with a yaya or a neighbor. or why my mom seems to regard me as the black sheep of the family – if something is fishy she always asks me first if it was me (like who’s smoking inside the cr?).

i think i am being emo just right now. haha.

but going pass these self-pitying moments, and at my best, i always realize i have a loving supermother. the mere fact that she was able to raise a kid like me, she must be a very great one, huh!

so, as i think about her now, i remember how she supported my volleybelle career despite her preference i go gaga over books only. she patiently accompanied me to and from school in all my seven years in elementary. come to think of it, i even have one precious memory of her carrying me under the rain when i was seven. as a rule, when we were kids, my siblings cannot make me cry or my mom will scold or spank them. she cooks for me the unhealthy food i want while lecturing me how unhealthy it is, sweet.

so, now, i know my mom loves me. maybe not in the way i expected to feel loved but she does.

my mom is not the technie type – she even refuses to learn how to send sms – so she wouldn’t be able to read this. but i would still like to tell this to her here:

i love you so much, mom. i am sorry for the times that i failed to recognize how you show you love me. and i may not always say this but i really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. i hope i always make you proud. :)


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