About mothers

I’m on busy mode these days, got a deadline due next week, so I’ll just share with you this piece of writing I found by chance while sorting out the files on my pc. The author is unknown, though I guess this was published on a news website and somebody could have copied it from there. If you happen to know the author, please let me know so I could give credit accordingly.

Here’s something to ponder about our dear mothers…
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My mother has Alzheimer’s Disease. I find clothes neatly folded  inside the refrigerator, as if it were a bedroom closet. I catch her sprinkling Tide on her toes, as if it were baby powder. I am now used to answering the same question over and over again at five-minute intervals. She claims she just talked to my dead grandmother or dined with my father who passed away when I was still in college. She looks for her puppy under the bed. That puppy was her father’s gift to her on her 10th birthday. She is 80.

I used to enjoy talking with my mom. Being the youngest child and only girl, I wore clothes of the same design and print that she  did. We were inseparable. When I started working, I’d treat her to Shakey’s on weekends.  We watched Vilma Santos movies together. On Sunday afternoons, we’d snuggle in bed reading magazines. We took turns feeding our cats and dogs.

Then I became too engrossed in my work and spent less and less time with her. On weekends, I’d sleep the whole day. Since we live in Novaliches, I had to leave early for my eight o’clock job and got home late – too tired to chat with her. But she understood and was always supportive of my job. For 14 years, she was left alone at home while I was at the office. But she did not mind. She had her plants, our pets, and her sewing machine to keep her busy. Her kingdom was our house. In fact, she felt proud of all the tasks she accomplished each day.

I am now a freelancer. I have all the time to spend with my mom. We can chat for hours now, go on vacations out-of-town, watch movies, horse around like we used to. But it’s too late. She now has her own little world.  She can’t understand what I say. She can’t appreciate my achievements anymore. She can no longer empathize with me the way she used to. She is obsessed with her odd collection of empty plastic bottles, cereal boxes and tin cans. She collects what I discard – germs and all!

I have to scold her for she won’t listen to my gentle reminders. She insists on going home to a house in Binondo where she was born, grew up and fell in love. But that house is long gone. And so is my grandmother – her mom. She does not believe me when I try to explain these things. She throws a tantrum instead. She thinks I am deceiving her. It breaks my heart. And this happens every single day! I feel like I’m going out of my  mind. I feel like a prisoner in a German camp. Now I know what mental torture a mere leaking faucet can induce.

It is ironic that while I can now enjoy being with my mom and talking to her for as long as I want, I’d rather not. I have discovered that it is better to just keep quiet and silently watch her.

‘Fleeting  moments’
I used to hear stories of how hard it is to take care of aging parents. They say it can really test your patience. It can suck out your time and energy, not to mention money. I’d like to think that I am better off: my mom is not bedridden. Neither does she make a mess of herself – yet. She still walks around our garden, eats by herself, enjoys our pets and tinkers around.

But I now realize that it is harder to watch your mom gradually drifting into her own  private world. I try to catch the fleeting moments when she still knows that she is my mother. I know that one day she will ask who I am. I dread that day.

Many times as I watch her sleeping peacefully like a child, I scold myself. Though I showered her with material gifts when I still had a regular job, I deprived her of so much: my  time, my  presence, my attention and in a way, my love. I feel guilty for the stories I did not share with her, the advice I did not ask from her, the secrets I did not confide in her, the activities I did not enjoy with her. It’s sad that when I gained new friends and discovered new horizons in life, there was very little space left for her in my heart…

For those out there who still have your mom – sane and sound – always set aside time for her. Grab every opportunity to bond and show her your love. And let her love you too. Let her continue being a mother to you. Seize the time. One day, she might still be around but you would have already lost her.