Reversal

You birthed and raised nine children but lost four of them. You have seen and felt how they treated you. In your eyes there were differences, huge and small and many more in between, but in your heart they were all your same children. A mother does not choose one child over the other, but children only have one mother they choose to either leave or live with. You became a widow for almost two decades, but you did not feel his absence in the presence of your children and grandchildren.

You said it was easy for you to give birth to any of your children, but you never said it was hard to raise them, even if it was harder in reality. None of the difficult part was however written on your face, you must have kept them deep inside your heart. You never worried about anything, you just wanted to look fresh and beautiful, even if life turned ugly, and the people around you uglier.

You too were not perfect, but you perfected the art of being funny. How, by not trying to be, by not even knowing it. Although some of your unwitting jokes were mean, you did not mean them. Even if you did, you didn’t know it was cutting. Regardless, you brought laughter to those who sense your accidental humor, you even wondered why. You had the most stinging retorts. When your children complained about their physical imperfections, you told them they can’t blame you for their complexion.

You survived the world war but only had fond memories of it. You did not recall fearing the enemies, you only remember outsmarting them. You survived the crowned virus but did not even know you had it. You saw several presidents but you focused on who was the prettiest first lady. You did not worry about the darkest hours of the country’s democracy, you only compared the ostentatious lady and the woman of simplicity.

You lived long enough, up to 99 years and two months to be exact. But in the last five months, your health suddenly went downhill, you suffered discomfort and pain. You were too weak to even complain, but too strong to last that long. Even when you were about to be pronounced dead, you still held on for a few more minutes. Too short a time to say goodbye, but too long a time to watch you die. Thank you mama, for the joy and privilege of being your son. I was your baby in the beginning, you became mine in the end.