Remembering the lessons my late mom taught me
Today, the nineteenth of October, would have been the ninetieth birthday of my late mother, Constancia Birondo Jimenez, a devoted wife, an excellent mother to eighteen children, an outstanding public school teacher for more than four decades in the mountain village schools of Ronda, Cebu, (and for a few years with SWU as critic teacher), and a faithful Catholic and Christian who, to my mind, could be considered a living saint to us her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She was born to two Argawanons, a Birondo father from Tulic and Sarmiento mother from Suba, Poblacion in Argao.
She married another public school teacher and war veteran from Dumanjug. They settled in Langin, Ronda then migrated to Hawaii, and later to the state of Washington, USA. Two years ago, she passed away peacefully after a lingering heart ailment in the city of Fife, south of Seattle, a three hours drive to the northern US boundary with Vancouver, Canada. I really could not imagine what would happen to the world and to life if God did not create mothers. And I really do not believe that our family could have survived all those travails and vicissitudes of living without our late mom. I owe a lot to her and I do miss her immensely.
My mother, first of all, taught me honesty - complete and unconditional honesty. We had to return excess money and goods that we received by mistake or inadvertence. We had to refrain from cheating in our school assignments and exams. She also taught me hard work not by words or instructions but by her concrete examples and actions. She would leave our home while still dark and walked many kilometers, traversing rivers and small forests just to be in her classroom on time. She did all her lesson plans after putting the children to sleep, and she made teaching aids out of old calendars and magazines.
She also taught me entrepreneurship. She made blankets, pillow cases and mosquito nets for she knew how to weave them, a tradition in her maternal ancestors in Argao. She also sold "tableya" and many other things to augment the salary of public school teachers. I helped in the farm plowing the fields, feeding the carabaos, cows, goats, pigs and chickens. She instructed me to grow vegetables in my home garden. My mother was my first mentor. My father was always away in other barangays also as a teacher. I had to take care of my siblings. My mother taught me how to be responsible, how to relate to neighbors and friends. She even taught me how to deliver my first speech when I finished the elementary with honors. She taught me how to write perfect grammar and flawless spelling with excellent penmanship.
I miss my mom now, and, in the past, at many times of great trials that I had to face, I still consult her spirit and see signs on her counsel and support. My father is 92 years old now and still alive, living with loneliness in USA. And like him, a great part of me died when my mother passed to the great beyond. The world, just like any family is orphaned every time a mother leaves for the other life.
It will never be the same again. Sad.
- Latest
