Finding Home

Dear Mom, I remember you in the silence of my heart. Here where day is beginning. The boys are still in bed though I hear Morgan muttering. Garret hiding under all the pillows. Even as the neighbor's early morning workers have begun their woodwork grinding, sitting here in the room where you used to stay whenever you come visit brings me into that quiet. The memories then come one after another. I allow myself this precious time to be immersed in them no matter how painful. You playing catch and throw with 2 year old Garret in the terrace. You cradling 8 month old Morgan to burp him. You telling me as I was  trying to get the boys' meltdowns under control, also on the verge of my own meltdown, "Anak, ayaw palabi. Kalma lang." And then the memories  get to be too much.  "Ayaw palabi," your voice echoes here in the silence of my heart. Be kind to yourself, I constantly admonish others. Why is it always so hard to do it myself? "Ayaw palabi." I hear y

March 1, 2020 "Kinsa imong gibisita Mam?" the Grab driver asks. Whose grave did you visit? "Akong Papa." "Unsa na ka dugay?" "20 years." "Aw dugay naman diay." So it has been quite a while. He said it in a manner that somehow tells me it is no longer as painful as it must have been before.   The driver’s words stung. I wanted to him to take back his comment but remained silent as he proceeded to tell a story of how his own father had died many years ago as well. I responded politely and listened to him but my mind drifted elsewhere.   I wept at my father's grave. "I forgive you. I miss you.   I still see your face, still hear your voice." One continuous stream of thought flowed from the core of my being spilling out of my eyes.  I hear the Grab driver’s own storytelling as if from a distance. Meanwhile I am unhinged by the barrage of emotions. A song plays from the car’s radio," Mutya ka Bale