My heart aches when I think about Mommy. So I try not to.
But it’s hard when her birthday is coming up. Last year, her birthday came up a few months after we buried her. I honored her birthday wish that we gift two (2) kilos of rice to a stranger in need. My sister felt the same so I lugged sacks of rice to a nearby orphanage and to our church for the parish’s feeding program.
Now, her birthday is a few days away and all I feel is resentment. She is not around. She is never going to be around. She is gone. What does it matter if I give away rice or not? It will not bring her back. Nothing will bring her back..jpg)
A 2015 picture of my mom,
Evelyn R. Luab
I go to Sunday mass in the chapel I visited almost every day for all those days leading to her death. At first, there was just sorrow. Now there is hurt in my heart. I had put my mind and heart into asking the Lord that she be healed. Once I decided to ask for a miracle, I went into it with complete disregard for the rational. I chose to dismiss all arguments against it and just asked with complete faith and trust.
A miracle, after all, is the impossible. If I rationalize it, why even ask for one? Why even doubt? I had everything to gain, and just myself to lose.
Mommy died on February 28, 2018. I tried to understand God’s decision. I know He could have granted me my dearest wish, but He did not for reasons I actually understand and try so hard to appreciate. I bring back images of her as she was nearing her end so that I can appreciate His taking her from that kind of life.
So I pray for her every day. I ask for her eternal repose. But beyond that, I try not to think about her. Every time I feel a thought of her coming on, I dismiss it. It is a struggle because I miss her every day, several times a day, too many to count. I don’t want to open that door. I don’t want to remember all that love, because it brings so many memories that I really have to ignore or I might come to a complete stop, wondering if I will ever be that special again.
A mother’s love is all-encompassing. She sees everything, yet loves regardless. In her eyes, her children are special. I share that special space with my sisters. There are days, though, when I feel that space has all but dissolved with Mommy gone.
It’s the year 2022 now, and once again, it’s August. Mommy’s birthday is coming up. I am no longer angry or hurt or resentful. I am just sad. So there is hope. There will come a day when I can actually celebrate her birthday with love and joy blocking out all these other feelings that I cannot describe.
So Mommy, I am truly glad that you are with God, and that you are free of all earthly pain. Try not to be sad that I, that all of us, still miss you. It’s your fault. It’s hard not to miss a lifetime of being loved, the way you loved us.
I imagine your eyes widening at this before breaking into that infectious laughter of yours. Of course, I am being silly. Laugh, Mommy. Happy Birthday from your silly daughter.
