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Parents

I wrote this about my parents more than two years ago. My mom has passed away just a month back, and we are still making sense of our loss. Amidst our profound sadness we find that the love she left behind warms our hearts and gives us hope. She loved us really, really well. It is my great joy that she knew how much we loved her all throughout her life, and even before she died. To my Mom, Francisca Maranan Varilla, our prayers and our love.

May 1, 2005

I went to Mass earlier with my family and while I was there, I felt a soft, gentle feeling slowly
envelop my entire being. I’ve felt it at other times before, and mostly inside a Church, which is why I love churches. It always has a way of calming me, sometimes not completely, but I always leave a church calmer than when I first arrive. This time was a bit different, although this has not been the first time I’ve felt it, nor do I wish it to be the last. I felt something different, something I feel when I am surrounded by the safe and the familiar, when I feel everything is real and I have no reason to fear and to hide. I was with my family inside that church, and I felt a good feeling celebrating Mass with them.

I felt loved. By the family who has raised me and who know both the best and the worst of me. I know this might sound mundane, and perhaps overly dramatic but I felt a bit overwhelmed earlier in Mass, that feel I need to put it down on paper so I could take hold of it and grow somewhat bigger to handle it.

I was in line waiting for the slow procession of people go nearer the alter to receive communion. I have always loved that moment—the moment where I stand up and slowly walk closer to my God, gazing intently at his sacrifice. It fills me with hope, and strength. It is during those moments when I feel, both physically and spiritually, that I am drawing closer to him. Those moments when I feel both alone in my faith in Him, standing and facing him as a complete individual, and simultaneously part of a family that has been one of the major reasons  why I love Him so much. That is a moment when I feel loved, called by my name to go closer, and feel that I am responding with my whole heart and reaching towards Him.

I felt love pouring out at my parents who stood in front of me. At their aging bodies that I have known all my life to be strong and unfailing, at their now somewhat slouched shoulders that have borne me when I was small, at their slightly weaker arms that have held me close. I look at their faces I know so well, at those eyes I have looked to for an unspoken word of encouragement ever since my youth, at those cheeks I have kissed countless times even into my adulthood.

I look at them and I couldn’t help but smile, to myself and to the world. Both in sublime joy and in overpowering pride, that these, these are my parents. They are wonderful human beings, with their numerous flaws and totally redeeming qualities, their idiosyncrasies I have learned to accept and celebrate, their raised voices and frowns I have learned to massage into smiles and tender speech. I smile at their familiar, reassuring, and accepting presence. I smile at their faces, now a bit more worn than ten, fifteen years ago, which are to me beacons of goodness and love.

I realize that they have made many mistakes in the past, as have I. With the world changing I once thought it changed too quickly for my parents to catch up. Their values therefore, and some of their thoughts and beliefs I once believed to be outdated and irrelevant. I once held pride over knowing more of this new world than they did. They would correct me, and keep me in line, and I would snap back. I realize that I definitely grew in knowledge during those times, but perhaps not in wisdom and character. Now I see their opinions more for what they mean rather than what they contain: I now see concern rather than control, direction rather than detail, love rather than dominance. Now I am more patient with them, mostly because they have infinitely been more patient with me.

I am witness to them being unreasonable and unwise at times, but I believe they have been witness to my own failures more. So I hold my tongue, or I try to lovingly but humbly correct them. In my amazement they trust me more and more, about my decisions and my triumphs and my mistakes. The most compelling act of trust I asked of them was my decision to go to Med School. I could not make them understand at first, and after an exhausting tug of war that lasted over a year, I told them simply to trust in the way they raised me, and believe that they raised me well. Well enough to make wise decisions and responsible choices. They relented after that, and now they can’t wait for me to become a doctor.

I realize that the kind of relationship they have is a truly nurturing one. My mom beams when my dad is home, and she becomes more bubbly and obviously happier when Dad is home from Benguet. My dad can completely let his guard down with my mom, and no judgment passes through her lips. They walk around the mall and are very simple with the things that make them happy, the things that at the end of the day they can look back upon and say, ‘this has been a good day’. These are few and simple and uncomplicated: any time spent with the family, whether at home or in the mall or in a moviehouse, and time together as husband and wife.

I like the way they communicate with each other, the way they can still make jokes and laugh together. The way my mom can fondly look at my dad without his knowing. I think it warms her heart just to look at  him, and it’s enough, really, to make her day. I like the way that they can be both themselves when they’re together, and how it’s obvious whenever I see them, that they truly need each other.

Many call my mom charming. To me she is beautiful. I will never grow tired of looking at her face. My dad has a ready smile. To me he is handsome and distinguished. I will never cease to be amazed at how much I have learned from him, and in many ways, wish to be like him.

I realize that my parents are one of the most important blessings in my life. My brother and sister complete the wonderful blessing that is my family. I stood in line, absorbed in my moment, feeling truly, truly loved by the family I did not choose to be born into, but I will forever choose to love back.

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