Originally posted May 2009
It was a love story that begun when my Mom was only fourteen. She and my Dad started a family at a very young age. It started in Manila, then briefly in Davao, and, again, back in Tondo. I was the youngest of eight children. Needless to say, I was spoiled (atleast, compared to my other siblings).
My Mom and Dad were very caring individuals. I remember, inspite of being poor, my parents would bring kids who ran away from home to provide them with food and shelter until their situations were resolved. Then, in their 50′s, they both migrated to the U.S. in hopes to better support the family (that’s “extended” family). They sent most of the very little money they earned working as a housekeeper and fastfood worker to the folks in the Philippines. And once, I annoyingly ask my Mom why they sent all of their money instead of saving it for their retirement. She responded, “We need to keep helping others while we can.” With that, she kept me grounded. That’s how I learned about selflessness and humility.
I remember growing up watching my Mom pray all the time…when she’s sad, angry, worried, happy, sick, or just wanted to win the lotto. Then my Mom and I would say the 6 o’clock rosary everyday for as far as my memory take me. She would also take me to Quiapo every year on my birthday which falls on the same day as the town’s fiesta. And for every blessing that we recieved, she thanked God. That’s how I learned about family tradition and faith.
I remember that my Mom was my biggest supporter and fan at school. She was always proud of my academic achievements and “popularity.” And once when she got called in to come because I got caught trying a cigarette,…well, she didn’t tell my Dad. But, she was also my Jiminy Cricket. And when conscience is not enough, she would pinch me with her sharp fingernails on my side so hard that it would bleed. She’s proud and supportive, and tough when she needed to. And that’s how I am with my kids.
I remember getting molested (briefly) by a couple of older men in our neighbourhood, then coming to my Mom to confide. I saw anguish in her eyes. And yet, she asked that I don’t tell my brothers for she knew that they would badly hurt them. Instead, she asked me to avoid them and to pray for them. And I did. And once in a while I still do. And with that, she not only protected me from harm, but also from hatred. And that’s how I learned about calmness, forgiveness and moving on.
I remember the first time she met Dawn. How she squeezed her arm and said “You’re fat. That’s good.” And never before, have I seen my mother so happy to meet a girlfriend of mine. She used to hate any girl that I dated and would always ask, “Are you leaving me for her?” But with Dawn, she was very pleased and comfortable. And that’s why I married Dawn.
Happy Mothers Day, Nanay. (and to my wife, too 
)
An Angel to Watch Over Me
She watched by my cradle through long, sleepless nights
She taught me to pray as she knelt by my side
She guarded my childhood, and all through the years
She echoed my laughter, she counted my tears
In the arms of my mother, I came to believe
That God sent an angel to watch over me
She taught me the meaning of courage and faith
She taught me to live with the Lord as my strength
She taught me to follow the pathway he marked
She guided my steps when the journey grew dark
And I know there were dangers that I could not see
But God sent an angel to watch over me
She taught me to serve with a spirit that sings
She taught me to seek after heavenly things
And because of her love and her kindness and care
Because of the place that I hold in her prayers
And because of her goodness, I still believe
That God sent an angel to watch over me
