Imperfect

We are bound to commit mistakes and sins in this enticing world.
Hence, my mom nor I, or maybe you aren’t spared of imperfection.

I was four when my parents called it quits, for what reasons I barely know up this moment. Everything is vague to us or maybe just to me. All I know that dad had a mistress that’s why mom decided to set him free. Yet couple of years ago, for the first time I heard mom sharing her marriage life to our neighbor as she was trying to save our family friend’s marriage vow. Mamang said, he didn’t want to leave us but I pushed him away to the extent of sending his belongings to his office. With that, he accepted the bitter truth. We didn’t have a good closure and parted ways having unfinished business, mom uttered.

Mom worked her fingers to the bone to make ends meet. She put nutritious food on our table 3 times a day, sent us to prime private catholic school in our city, dressed us with branded clothes once in awhile. Luxury was not included in the priority lists. Everything was prioritized. The top 1 on list was education. Mom said that’s the best and only thing she could give us, of course aside from unconditional love and care, for she doesn’t possess any wealth for us to inherit.

My siblings might agree, I reckon mom is meticulous, strict and nagger at all times. Oftentimes erratic and have a heart of stone especially if she’s pretty mad. On a the other side, she’s friendly, fearful, hard worker, and have a big heart beneath the strong personality. The unfathomable personality of mom imply fright to others, even to our immediate family and distant relatives. My great grandma in my father’s side labelled mom as “the lion” in which most people would accord.

Mom is mom. Mom is our preacher, admirer, giver, counselor, inspirer, breather, number one and loyal fan, first teacher, shock absorber, believer, protector, and could surrender her life for the love to her family.

I love you mom. And thank you very much.