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Ma. Lourdes Sison Ferrer
It's been quite a while since I've been to my hometown. The last time I was there was 3 years ago. It was my little chick's time to meet the matriarch of the family. Being the first born daughter, it was tradition to present her to the matriarch.
Our matriarch is one of the most amazing women you can ever get the chance of meeting. She is a mestiza, having been born to an affluent family with great history. Her chinese blood was from the chinese pirate Limahong. She created an empire during the day but sadly, it has wasted away to nothing. She was a character - alive, funny and beautiful. I remember her nails most of all. She would have a manicurist come over and she'd have these beautiful red nails with white half moons on them.
When I was a kid, I'd stay over at her bakery and she would ask me to read something or she would listen to me sing. She's not all strawberries and cream though. She had her moments that sometimes, no family member can explain.
When I went home to Lingayen yesterday, I wasn't prepared to see her that way. In my mind's eye, I remember a plump and beautiful woman, full of life and always smiling. She was not that woman. I still have tears in my eyes as I type this. What I saw was an emotionally broken woman. Physically, she was skin and bones, emaciated by her condition. She had bed sores all over and could hardly speak. She had lucid moments but for me, I wanted more. I saw my mom break down. We cried, our hearts broken to see her this way.
When I had my quiet moment with her, I told her stuff - some mundane, others important for me. I told her of her wonderful great grandchildren and of how I married the most amazing man. I told her of memories that I have about and with her. I sang to her. I held her hand, embraced her and told her that I loved and love her. I thanked her for everything.
We left Pangasinan with the heaviest of hearts. During the trip home, I never let go of my daughter. I held her in my arms until she fell asleep. I needed her to feel that I love her immensely. I hugged my mother before she went to sleep and kissed her forehead. It was when my head hit the pillow after kissing my hubby and sons goodnight that I had an epiphany of what I was feeling.
It was guilt. I felt guilty for not being there for her. I felt guilty that I never took the chance to tell her that I love her. It had to be at this time, in this moment that I dared to do it.
I'm such a crappy person.
***
I love you Mamang.
You can let go now.
Go to sleep.
We love you.
Our matriarch is one of the most amazing women you can ever get the chance of meeting. She is a mestiza, having been born to an affluent family with great history. Her chinese blood was from the chinese pirate Limahong. She created an empire during the day but sadly, it has wasted away to nothing. She was a character - alive, funny and beautiful. I remember her nails most of all. She would have a manicurist come over and she'd have these beautiful red nails with white half moons on them.
When I was a kid, I'd stay over at her bakery and she would ask me to read something or she would listen to me sing. She's not all strawberries and cream though. She had her moments that sometimes, no family member can explain.
When I went home to Lingayen yesterday, I wasn't prepared to see her that way. In my mind's eye, I remember a plump and beautiful woman, full of life and always smiling. She was not that woman. I still have tears in my eyes as I type this. What I saw was an emotionally broken woman. Physically, she was skin and bones, emaciated by her condition. She had bed sores all over and could hardly speak. She had lucid moments but for me, I wanted more. I saw my mom break down. We cried, our hearts broken to see her this way.
When I had my quiet moment with her, I told her stuff - some mundane, others important for me. I told her of her wonderful great grandchildren and of how I married the most amazing man. I told her of memories that I have about and with her. I sang to her. I held her hand, embraced her and told her that I loved and love her. I thanked her for everything.
We left Pangasinan with the heaviest of hearts. During the trip home, I never let go of my daughter. I held her in my arms until she fell asleep. I needed her to feel that I love her immensely. I hugged my mother before she went to sleep and kissed her forehead. It was when my head hit the pillow after kissing my hubby and sons goodnight that I had an epiphany of what I was feeling.
It was guilt. I felt guilty for not being there for her. I felt guilty that I never took the chance to tell her that I love her. It had to be at this time, in this moment that I dared to do it.
I'm such a crappy person.
***
I love you Mamang.
You can let go now.
Go to sleep.
We love you.
