Nanay is everything

There is nothing in this world that I will not do for my 65-year-old mother. Her happiness is the priority of my existence. After all, when I was small, during her prime, my concerns were her reason for being.

When Nanay smiles, it is as if heaven smiles at me. I take pleasure in hearing her laughter, especially so now that Tatay just passed on. Oh, I hear the gentle inflection of God in her laughter.

Three weekends ago, I was in heaven when I saw unadulterated joy clearly written on my mother’s face. I brought her to Boracay, my early Mother’s Day gift to her. It was her first time to travel that far. In fact, it was her first time to ride a plane. The innocence on her face when I was helping her fasten her seatbelt was a blissful moment, a cause for celebration, a reason to live, a motivation to love her even more. Her expression was a smorgasbord of emotions — there was excitement, gladness, anticipation, gratitude. She was joy personified. 

When our Cebu Pacific plane taxied on the runway for take off, I held her hand. She pressed mine. The whole duration of the flight we held hands. While airborne, she looked out the window with revelry and reverence as she marveled at the gigantic, cotton-like clouds. She was like a child in her expression of silent delight that I felt she wanted to scoop the clouds and bring them home as pasalubong to her grandchildren. She was, indeed, on Cloud Nine. Seeing her pleased and content made me feel at peace. Like a little boy, I fell asleep on her shoulders. It was the most powerful of all the power naps I had had so far. I woke up recharged —especially when I saw her face with that beautiful, peaceful smile. That moment alone was priceless.

When the plane landed, she clapped. She just clapped and clapped and clapped. Her applause was soft, bordering on being timid, but she just could not hide her excitement. My mother has always been consistently true to herself.

One important lesson she imparted to me was to be very comfortable with who I am. She taught me to celebrate life and not to feel small even if before we had very little in life. She taught me that poverty is not permanent as long one person is rich in dreams. Yes, she taught me to dream, to see the light — in those days when nights were really long and dark.

Nanay only finished grade six but she has a PhD in the university of life.

* * *

When we arrived at 3-5-7 Boracay resort, our home away from home for the weekend, Nanay asked Yali, her nanny, to ready her “bating shoot.”

“Ora mismo, maliligo na tayo (We will swim right away),” she told me, Yali and my brother Rod.

It was the first time she wore a bathing suit. She was both coy and excited; but the azure waters of Boracay peeled away her apprehension. I was not yet finished lathering sunblock lotion on her back and already Nanay sped off to the sea. Like a swan in her printed dark blue and white bathing suit, she waded in the waters as she shrieked like a little girl. She swam like she was the only one on the island. Again, priceless moment.

“Maginaw pero masarap (It’s cold but it’s good),” she remarked. I was busy clicking away with my camera, making sure to capture every detail of her bliss.

For more than an hour, she basked in the glory of the island’s sea, sand, sun and sky. A little before sundown, we took paraw sailing. I felt she was most calm in the middle of the sea. She was enjoying her life — a break she so well deserved. 

Today, perhaps with a heavy heart, she will celebrate, albeit singly, her 45th wedding anniversary. I will surely snatch her away from an impending emotional loom. Everything for Nanay, I will do. Her happiness fuels my existence. Perhaps to the sea we will return. So this early, I will ask her to ready her “bating shoot” again.

(For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com. Twit me at www.twitter.com/bum_tenorio.

Have a blessed Sunday!)