Dear Mama

To my lola,

Thank you for reminding me that I can never be too old to learn things about life.

“We are never alone. Our mothers will always be with us, whether we’re in a mansion or a jail house. Our mothers will always be with us.”

Setting: At a cemetery in a hot afternoon

Noah steps to the podium dressed in a black suit all wrinkled and wet. He reeks of beer and Marlboro reds. Some of the visitors seem appalled by his presence. Yet he doesn’t care. He rarely did.

He takes off his sun glasses to reveal his teary eyes coupled with grey eye bags. He frisks his suit pockets to search for his eulogy. To his dismay, it got lost in the havoc of the past 48 hours, preceded by the havoc of the past 31 years. He stumbles, in a way only a drunk man can, and then he lays his head down for a while. He looks at his brother among a sea of people; his brother gives him a slow nod. At once Noah began to speak softly and slowly…

“When my mother was 21, she was nursing two children and pursuing a degree in English literature at a renowned university. Upon hearing this from my grandfather, I never thought I’d ever meet her. Nobody else would have taken her place. The father was a drunk, who beat my brothers up for no reason. Sometimes he’d come home and hit his eldest for not greeting him at the doorstep.

My mother never knew about this until it was too late. Wounds which were deeper than scars were already embedded among us siblings. The eldest became addicted to drugs, so as the second. And I stand before you as an alcoholic.

My brothers have led great lives, lives of character and nobility. And most of their shortcomings were bought about by a childhood that no one on this earth deserved.

My mother loved us unconditionally. During the peek of my moronic youth, I would come home drunk. I’d start cursing her for making our father leave us for another family. She would take it with such grace. She’d even fix me a hot plate and tell me to eat and go to sleep, ‘we’ll talk about this in the morning.’ But she never bought it up. She was the epitome of patience.

I was resentful. I always blamed her for all my troubles; it was the same for my elder brothers. But we never stopped to consider that she’d work two jobs at a time just to feed us and put us in school.

She was always too responsible to engage in pointless banter. She was the only source of stability in my life. I understand now, why at times she seemed so cold and calculated. Unfortunately, raising three boys alone does not give one the luxury to be frail. She stood her ground and raised us, as best as she could.

I guess losing someone so responsible is hard. But following that line of thought would be selfish. She now sees the world in the most beautiful perspective possible. And that gives me a sigh of relief and an air of comfort.

I love you mother. I know often times we clash with one another. But I want you to know – no – I need you to understand, that when whenever we fought I was simply applying the lesson you have taught me best: to stand my ground when I think I’m right. To fight for what I believe is right. Thank you for everything.

P.S.
Yes, I wasn’t always right… Good thing you were there to correct me.”