She hasn't gotten a college degree. She doesn't know what Facebook is. It's foreign to her what a blog is. And even if I will explain what it is and how it is made, I know she'll care less. Because everything in her existence came from a simple discipline: Self-giving.She started caring for us way back 26 years ago. She was still at the blossom of her youth. Though it was not her womb who nurtured us, you can never teach her what motherhood is all about. You can never define to her what care and love is. More than the educated people out there, she's more intellectual. She knows what are the basics in life. She doesn't need words to say it all, her actions are enough.
When my sister and I were still in our grade years, she would attend our school meetings. She's not seated on the front seat since she's only wearing the same old set of jeans: no make-up or even glittering jewelries because her money is dedicated for our allowance. Hardly can I recall that she had bought nail polish for herself. In fact, her hands are wrinkled and overworked: washing and ironing our clothes, doing the hard stuffs for us, something unlikely for a single woman to do at her 20's when she could be having a time of her life.
Highschool years and she's still the same. Maybe not. I can see some additional graying hairs to her already gray-streaked hair. I can even see some wrinkles around her eyes whenever she would genuinely smile over our school achievements. I just forgotten she's now on her early 30's. The endless school meetings continued, her seating habits all the same. Only her love is constant, only her care remains unrelenting. I'm wondering if she ever thought of thinking about her own happiness now that we can take care of ourselves fairly well.
She got sick around our college years. It struck me that she is not getting any younger. That sooner or later, we will have to face our own individual lives. Still, her devout in making us good people is her expertise. Whenever I would wake up to go on duty on rainy days, I could already hear clanking of utensils at the kitchen. My meals at the table, uniforms well-pressed. The umbrella is ready and she would wear her old jacket. We would trudge the dark road together under the drizzling cold morning. My fear then was that if she had reached home safe since she don't own any mobile phone. My sister and I graduated and through all those days and years, she would still keep her Christmas gifts as an "emergency fund" for us.
We became professionals, her hair even grayer in time. She's about on her late 30's. Still single by choice. She now owns a mobile phone, the colored-screen one. She can text faster now, and if only I can share in this blog her text messages, you can also say that we are more than adequately and abundantly blessed.
Now that we are full grown-up individuals, I'm hurting whenever I think that she's about to face her 40's..far from us. That she had given all her life raising us, honing our character in the most genuine loving way. But we are not around for her when the drizzles start. The umbrella she's holding on rainy days seemed to be too wide for her to hold alone. No Kim or Robz around to comfort her when nights of loneliness would creep her. The table seemed too spacious for her to eat alone. The house is too big to bumped with each other just like when we were still around making fussy noises...I miss those days. I miss her younger days.
The world is full of intellectuals. The earth has produced skillful and high-achiever individuals. The gadgets worn out fast as everyday another one evolves. The days are fast. Everyone's pacing in their own rights and rhythms. The earth continues to revolve on its axis without anyone giving a damn. On the simple corner of the complicated world, there lies someone who don't know what iPad is, what Macbook Air looks like, what a blog is all about. But in that simple corner of the world is someone who dirtied her hands doing the hard stuffs, keeping Christmas gifts to be an "emergency fund", a graying hair and appearing laugh-lines. There lies someone who knows how to genuinely love, an expert in self-denial and delayed gratification. I could have received the highest medals in formal education and she's the deprived one, but compared to me and anyone of us, she's more intelligent. Because she doesn't live with her brain, she lives with her heart. And because of that, she's illuminating the brightest inner light. The light of SELF-LESS LOVE.
I am so ashamed to withhold love. I am so ashamed to deny others of love. How could I when all my life, I have seen and felt love.
Inspiration: Leonor Venegas Tan
Profile : Aunt of the author, single by choice
Expertise : Lingering Service in Self-giving
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