Tuesday, December 15, 2020
My mother earned a Bachelor’s degree in education from the University of Santo Tomas in the Philippines. Until recently, I felt that she had completed her challenging course work but never fully realized her true potential as an educator. I mistakenly believed that she had wasted those years in college by not pursuing a teaching career. Now that she is gone and we are all assembled here, I realize that she has been teaching us our entire lives – to laugh, to cherish each other’s company and to be charitable, not by handing out money (although she did that) but by giving freely of our time and love. So I ask that you indulge me while I review the highlights of her curriculum.
Lesson 1: Feed the hungry
Although my mother was not a trained chef, she truly enjoyed cooking. As soon as you stepped over her threshold, she leapt into action, a Filipina whirling dervish throwing together dish after dish until she laid out a veritable buffet before you. Nobody could disobey her command to dine without making her irate. “Come, eat” my mother would say as she gestured towards her kitchen, and she left you no choice but to gorge yourself. And Ma would not let you leave her home without taking leftovers with you. She would wrap up egg rolls, meatloaf, duck sauce, lasagna and anything else she had in her refrigerator. Unfortunately, she had the worst Tupperware, so that no matter how much Saran wrap or tin foil she used, it would leak all over your car like a colander. Mysterious brown sauce that could not be scrubbed out of your upholstery was her gift that kept on giving. My son, Nicholas, wrote a poem for her many years ago on Grandparents Day at his school that best describes her:
My Grandma is always there for me.
My Grandma always takes care of me
She cooks and cooks with all her good looks.
She cooks egg rolls, and dumplings, too.
This poem is for you. Thank you. Thank you.
Lesson 2: Sharing is caring
Ma died a rich woman because she was surrounded by so many people who loved her, but she was not rich in the financial sense. That did not stop her from being so attentive and overly generous with her grandchildren. She could not bear the thought of her littlest ones going without anything. When Ryan would visit her, she would furtively press a twenty into his hand like it was a backstreet drug deal. She would then whisper into his ear, “Here, use this for gas”, even though Ryan was not old enough to drive a car.
Lesson 3: Be merciful
Although the heart is not designed to pump outside of the body, somehow my mother’s heart lives on in her three young caretakers, Paola, Alexis and Nicole. Ma’s infectious carefree spirit and loving nature is evident in all 3 of them. These 3 granddaughters are well trained nurses but they were much more to my mother. They were her companions, proteges and legacies. When her grandchildren were newborns, my mother played a vital, but admittedly inconsistent, role in their daily care. She taught them the importance of mercy, compassion and patience. These are virtues that Paola, Nicole and Alexis have embodied during my mother’s last few years and I know she could not be any prouder of the women they have become.
Lesson 4: Have fun
Ma was fun loving and enjoyed her games – from games of chance, like solitaire and the lottery, to the more cerebral Jeopardy. She faithfully parked herself in front of the television every evening when Alex Trebek was on. Then, without fail, she would call Ferd and Deb several times during the broadcast to talk about the contestants – whom she liked and whom she didn’t like. She would question how some of those people qualified for the show because they clearly didn’t know a thing, not understanding that sometimes the categories just didn’t go their way. Maybe now that they have eternity together, Alex can explain to her how difficult the game really is.
Lesson 5: Believe
Her faith was unwavering, her devotion complete. Ma’s lithe, porcelain fingers would clutch her rosary beads with almost as much passion as she embraced Mackenzie, her only great grandchild. Every day began and ended with a prayer for the safety and well being of her children and grandchildren. She would entreat the Lord to keep us all safe – from hurricanes, illness and the occasional Kamikaze deer. She was also not above praying for herself. Ma was notorious for misplacing things, most notably her dentures. Ma would often ask Deb if she knew where they were. Deb would reply, “The last time I saw them, they were in your mouth”. On one such occasion, Deb actually had the privilege of bearing witness to the power of prayer. Ma frantically called Deb to her room, “Deb, Deb! I think I may have thrown my dentures in the garbage!”. Deb tried to alleviate her fears and said, “Ma, why don’t we pray?”. So, there they sat on the edge of her bed praying to St. Anthony. Suddenly Ma opened her bottom drawer and began rummaging through a dresser stuffed with folded tops. On the bottom of the pile, she pulled out a sweater. There, in the pocket, was a rolled up ball of tissues with her dentures tucked inside. A genuine miracle! I am sure that once he heard of her passing, St. Anthony was there to greet his faithful friend, Norma, with open arms.
Ma was left widowed with 5 children at the age of 47, yet managed to keep all five of us together. She definitely took the road less travelled and, I assure you, that pavement was cracked, full of potholes and, in some places, overgrown with brush. But we are all still together. In that respect, she was the Montessori of mothers – she taught us to forgive, rejoice in each other’s triumphs and console each other when there is loss. Though the last bell has rung and Ma has dismissed us, we will not forget our lessons. As it says in Proverbs Chapter 22, Verse 6 – Train a child in the way he should go; even when he is old, he will not depart from it.
