A Heartfelt Tribute to my Mother my Hero

 

          Mothers are heroes and heroes are mothers. These are the exact words which truly define and picture our heroic mothers.

            I will begin narrating the heroism of my mother as far as my mind could remember. My mother is a farmer. The field and farm are the sources of our livelihood so that makes the field and farm her playing grounds. She did not finish any education. She tried the first grade but did not finish it so she knows only how to read the alphabet and scribble her name. According to her, her parents were not interested to send her to school because she will not learn any art of survival and living. Instead, she went with her mother to the field. There she learned how to plant and harvest sweet potatoes, plant and harvest rice, clean and prepare the field for the next planting season and any work related to the farm. She mastered them all.

            She is the last of the nine siblings and she married my father who is also the last of three siblings. In the Ifugao culture, a last child could not marry an eldest child and vice versa. An eldest child should marry an eldest child too. This is to complement the inheritances an eldest child gets from his or her parents like fields, farms, lands and forests should there be. Having both parents with no education and inheritances, our family has to work hard in order to eat.

            My mother is a very devoted Catholic. I could remember her bringing me along to church every Sunday. It’s because of her that I learned the Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary and the Apostle’s Creed. I could still remember her going house to house together with her co devotees to pray the Holy Rosary. According to her, when she was a maiden, she and her friends would travel on Saturdays seven to eight kilometers going to the capital town and sleep overnight just to attend mass the next day which is Sunday.

            To find a greener pasture, our family migrated to Diffun, Quirino where growing crops was still promising that time. I was then about five years old when we transferred to Quirino province. It was here where I witnessed how industrious mother is. She would go to the farm early in the morning and comes home late in the afternoon. This is one of the reasons why at times it caused arguments between her and my father. She was so used to working in the farm that she is the one going to work while my father stays home to take good care our youngest baby brother then. I did never hear or see her complain despite the very tedious works in the farm.

            When I was seven years old, she asked me if I could stay with an uncle, her brother in Ifugao. I was very hesitant because I was never away from the family. She patiently advised me to go schooling so that I would not follow her footstep who did not go to school. I did not yet understand what she meant that time but I heeded her advice.

            I left my family and stayed at my uncle’s place. How I missed my family very much. Once in a while my father came for visits. Mother comes every closing of school. I always garner honors so she was the one who always pins the ribbon.

            During vacation, we would go back to Quirino. I stayed there for the duration of vacation. We would prepare the farm then plant beans before the opening of classes. I would always complain how hard the works are but she always advises me to be patient because that is how life is.

            It was in my intermediate grades when my father came to live with us because our youngest brother has to attend school too. We lived in our old house which we left when we went to the other province. Mother was left in Quirino to continue farming.

            Throughout my high school and half in college, she worked hard for the sustenance of the family. She was helped by my older brother who stayed with her. Seldom, I visit her during my college days. She would give allowance upon my return which came from the sales of her crops.

            It was when crops can no longer grow from the unfertile soil when she decided to come home. I was then about to graduate from college. She still goes to the field where she is a tenant wherein yields were divided between the owner and the tenant.

            One of the hardest trials that tested the family is the death of my father. He was sick for several months from the time that his ailment got worse. That was the time when I have seen the sacrifices of the family especially my mother. Liver cirrhosis affects the mental condition and it made my father irritable, restless, uneasy to deal with and out of his mind. My mother patiently and kindly took good care of him. I knew she has lots of backlogged works in the field, but she stayed home to care for my father until the time he gave his last breath.

            Time has gone in a fleeting. Time flew so fast. I am now a professional and have a stable job. My brothers and sister got married and have families of their own. My mother is now past senior citizen but up to this day she still goes to her most favorite place, her playing field. We told her so many times to rest because she has no more young children to support. She can just go from her children’s house to another if she gets bored but she declined. She said she can still manage. If she can no longer walk, that’s the time she will stop. If there’s a time she stays home, you would not see her resting. You would probably see her around cleaning the surrounding or pulling grasses. Sunday is always her rest day because she goes to church.

            I looked up to my mother. She may have aged a lot but I always pray God gives her more years to stay with us. Being single, I find her as my best friend. She may not hear well but I tell her my stories. I listen to her stories. I heeded her pieces of advice. According to her, I was the clingiest among the six siblings. Maybe this is the reason why I long to come home whenever I am away. I try to give back the best way I can though I know I can never repay the sacrifices and love she gave to us her children from the time she bore us in her womb up to the time we grew up. If God gives me a choice to choose another mother, I would probably not hesitate to choose her. I am very proud of her and I thank God she was my mother, my living hero.