What if my Mother Finished School?

This thought has not crossed my mind before until it did.

By logical deduction, my dear mother didn’t finish school primarily because they were poor. Also, World War II and the Japanese got in the way. Her asthma, too. But there was another reason.

Recently, I got the chance to ask the last man standing and the only boy among the siblings, uncle Emiliano, the youngest at 80. I asked him why only one of them was able to finish college. He didn’t easily find an answer but also pinned poverty as a reason. But he added that most of them, probably including my mother, were not interested in finishing school. After all, a housewife’s job can’t be learned outside a home.

Still, I ponder on the thought.

πΌπ‘›π‘Žπ‘›π‘” was not very good in Math so she wouldn’t have been an engineer. The measurements needed for her cooking ingredients were done 𝘱𝘰𝘳 π˜ͺ𝘯𝘴𝘡π˜ͺ𝘯𝘡𝘰. Also, I don’t remember her helping me with my science homework. Nope, a mad scientist she wasn’t cut out to be.

A teacher, maybe? Because the only one who graduated, my aunt Adelina, was a teacher. All the life lessons she taught made me who I am today minus some imperfections here and there that silently made their way into this perfection.

But I heard her sing some Karen Carpenter songs when I was a kid. And her singing “Heart of Jesus” and “Oh, Sacred Heart” were my best memories of her great voice. Yep, she would have made it big as a singer.

But she didn’t.

My π˜›π˜’π˜΅π˜’π˜―π˜¨ loved her the lovely way she was and took her as his wife. And because of that, we became her children. And she became the most loving mother to us.

She would have turned 95 today and if still alive with her asthma, I doubt if she could still blow 95 candles out. I can only imagine her silly grin showing the dentures her only daughter-dentist made for her as she prepares to blow. She’d probably oblige, just the same, to the singing of her grand- and great-grandchildren the Happy Birthday song.

I can only ponder and heave a deep sigh… wishing. Although it has been 14 years now since the last time my eyes saw her, my heart will never forget. The same heart that resonated with hers while I was resting in her womb.

Happy birthday, Inang! With so much of the love I felt as a child. You are one great treasure I will never lose.

Here’s to you. Cheers!

If you’ve been touched, amused, or entertained by this post, or it put a smile on your face, please favor me with a cup of coffee. I will continue writing.

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