MANILA, Philippines - I remember the day I learned about it — it wasn’t the most pleasant of news and it felt like a dark cloud had stepped into my life. Those who are close to me know that my mom has the strongest presence and influence on my life. It wasn’t like that when I was younger but through the years my mom has become my best friend, my strongest ally, the one who’s hardest to live without with.
Not too long ago, I was diagnosed with a life-threatening disease that required me to be under medical care for months. Every time I would wake up, be it morning, noon, evening or the wee hours of dawn, I would see mom by my bedside holding my hand. She was there to see me through my fears, my tears, even through the tantrums I threw when death became a fervent prayer to a soul who has lost all hope. My mom was beside me through it all accompanied by a Bible, her prayer, Nadal, Djokovic and Federer.
Yes, my mom loves tennis and she loves watching whatever Open is open — be it Australian, US, French or Wimbledon, be it on grass or clay or whatnot. But when she was caring for me, she would watch the matches with the TV on mute so I could sleep in peace. As that picture comes back to mind, it is only now that it dawns on me how her quiet presence was where I drew my strength to pull through.
When I got well, I promised myself that one day I was going to bring Mom to Australia so she could watch the Australian Open live.
But before getting the chance to do just that, the gavel fell: cancer. I mourned because I may never get the chance to give her that gift that I knew would make her happy. I cried knowing the ordeal that she would have to go through — I had been there myself, I knew the path all too well. I grieved for my siblings and hers knowing that neither of us could live without her.
We all promised each other to put on a brave face and try not to cry in front of her. But it was hard not to crumble seeing this very woman who was my rock crying in pain. How can a daughter say to a parent, “It’s okay, Mom� I couldn’t.
Behind her back, I crumbled and fell. Words of encouragement got stuck in my throat like a stubborn fishbone. But I did what I could — lay on her bed and slept along with her, watched episodes of KrisTv and Please Be Careful with My Heart in her room to keep her company, and FaceTimed her when I wasn’t home in the Philippines and talked about the weather, politics, Vhong Navarro, Deniece Cornejo, Cedric Lee, Janet Napoles, Manny Pacquiao, among others. We laughed mostly and just forgot about what ailed her.
After a year of chemotherapy and radiation, we thought the battle had been won. I started saving and planning for us to watch the 2015 Australian Open.
That was three months ago.
Mom was only given that much reprieve. We found out that the disease had come back, had progressed and “metastasized.†I do not know what metastasis means exactly, I just know it is akin to a death sentence. When we received the news, there was a quiet sense of foreboding. I had lost faith, to be honest. My prayer had turned from healing to “Thy will be done.â€
But Mom, she has not given up. We see her fight up to the last ounce of what she has left. Even at this very point of weakness, she still teaches us the values of courage, bravery and hope.
What a woman — the kind I am honored to be a daughter of.