leaves have their time to fall,
and flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
and stars to set; but all,
thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death.
- john milton, the hour of death.
when i was 1...she held me with love, she fed me, she bathed me, and she cuddled me to sleep...
when i was 5...she wore my shoes for me, she waited for the school bus with me and she sang me dondang sayangs to sleep...
when i was 10...she caned me, but she also cooked me my favourite dishes to make it up to me...
when i was 15...she complained that she never sees me enough...
when i was 20...i was so busy "becoming an adult", i rarely had time for her.
then i
turned 21...and she suddenly leaves for a better place...for
good. i wished her back, but my wish didnt come true. i cried a river,
but it didnt bring her back either.
instead, the nails sealed the coffin shut.
so i silently prayed
for her...for her calloused hands, hands that cared and loved
unconditionally...for her cracked heels, heels that walked miles in the
estate to put food on the table...for her generosity, her generosity to
be a mother to those in need around her...for her freckled face, a
face that withstood the sun and rain to make sure her grandchildren got
on the school bus safely...for her strength, her strength that has
built the family foundation...for her love, her love that has carried
me through all these years...and for her soul, may her soul rest in
eternal peace.
amen. | 