A life within oneself is having a mother.
It would be hypocritical to say I loved hearing her nagging — when I was a kid, and maybe even now, I still feel annoyed every time she nags about things. I’m a grown woman now, mom. You shouldn’t have lectured me about things I could handle on my own.
And there were moments when we didn’t speak for weeks. I could still hear her voice talking to my siblings, but there’s this strange ache in my heart where I miss hearing her talk to me. It makes me realize that living in a world where a mother’s voice can no longer be heard is like being cut off from the world itself.
I remember we went to a place and she told me to stand in front of a beautiful scenery while she took a picture of me. I posed lazily with a frown. I hated being photographed in front of others, it embarrassed me.
Then I found that picture in a dusty photo album. As I grew older, I began to think maybe it was something my mother missed out on when she was my age. Perhaps she never had the chance to visit such places with her parents and hoped to show that picture to me when I grew up. Maybe she just wanted to hold onto those fleeting memories forever.
Growing up, I feel more peace spending time alone in my room. I could still hear the sound of television from outside and knew it was her. She called me back and forth many times, until I grew tired of responding and stopped opening the door. I needed my space, mom. I wish you had understood.
Next hours after I came out from my room and saw she was still there, sitting quietly with water in her favorite cup and a peeled fruit, accompanied by a silence. The day was getting late and I couldn’t remember how long I had shut myself away. She asked me to eat, and that time I wondered if she had eaten herself. I was struck, how long had my mother been sitting there alone?
Did she need someone to talk to when she called me back and forth? I never imagined she could feel lonely too.
Maybe all she needed was for me to sit beside her and say a few words after her. Maybe she missed her children who were no longer always at home. Perhaps she just yearned to talk to her daughter, share some tips and moments of womanhood. Mother is growing older, and sometimes, she simply needs to hear her children’s voices to ease her longing.
I turned my gaze to every corner of this house, and all I found were traces of my mother. In her bedroom, I could see her lying on the bed after a grueling day at work, still in her uniform. In the kitchen, I could picture her bustling about, cooking breakfast before we off to school. Out in the yard, I could hear her nurturing the plants she had lovingly cared for since they were mere seedlings.
This house is more than just walls and rooms. This house is a home built by a mother’s love.
And then it hit me.
Sometimes in this world, a house is could be merely a building, but a home not. Sometimes, a home could be in the form of a mother.
To create a warm and nurturing home like the one I live in now, mom sacrificed everything. She once had dreams and ambitions. She once found joy in trying new lipstick and high heels. She was once a fearless girl who’s unafraid of what tomorrow might bring. She was once someone’s daughter too.
And I can’t fathom living in a world without her.
Losing my mother would be losing a part of myself and it is the wound that could never heal.
But time keeps ticking by. Her skin grows more weathered, her voice weaker. She relies more on medications now. She easily falls asleep wherever she lays her head.
The passing time feels suffocating. And yet, I am still nothing.
To live a life without a mother is something I cannot bear to imagine.
To live in a world without a mother is to live with half a heart that is forever incomplete because the other half has died.
To live in a world without a mother is to endure the void and sorrows that will forever remain open and can’t be healed by any medicine.
To live a world without a mother is to grapple with endless regrets over words that left unspoken. A sorry. A thank you. An I love you. A forgive me.
To be awake each morning in a world without a mother is to face a day where nothing more excites, except the fleeting hope of reuniting with her one day.
To live life in a world without a mother is to carry a burden of suffering that no one else can comprehend.
Because while a mother’s presence can heal any hurt, nothing can mend the pain of losing her.
Mom, I find myself lost at times and still need your hands to guide me. So please, stay with me a little longer.
I pray you will.
PERSONAL NOTE: This piece is really personal to me and I poured so many emotions into it. It’s 12 am and I’m still ugly crying in my room over the words I wrote. Regardless, I sincerely pray that my mom will live long enough to see me making her the proudest of having me. And I pray the same for all of you. She truly deserves nothing but the best things this world could offer.
