My mom, who I love to call ‘Mader’

Part of a series on our moms—or about being a mom—for Mother's Day

Ang ganda, sana ako rin may ganyan.”

Thus repeatedly said by my mom when I showed her the article that I wrote about my late Tatay Oden, which appeared here last June 11.

She was not expecting to see an article like that because we have adopted a rule in the family to, as much as possible, keep my relatives away from the so-called “limelight” as my way of ensuring their privacy and safety.

That day, my mom couldn’t really contain her happiness. She called up my siblings and asked them to read the article and requested me to upload it on my social media accounts so that other relatives could also read it. Which I did.

I had no inkling that that would be the last, most important request my mom would make.

Sherrie Ann Torres' parents, Natividad and Oden Caguimbal.

 

A week after that, she suddenly said goodbye to all of us, while I was clutching her hand as we were praying on our way to the hospital.

Her farewell happened last year, but everything still seems like yesterday.

I really miss my mom.

The woman who did everything, along with our father, to send all 10 of us to school.

The woman who almost lost her life while giving birth to me and who stayed in the hospital for another month after my birthday due to many complications and much-needed medical operations.

My mom—Natividad Borja Medrado Caguimbal—was fondly called “Naty” by our relatives and their contemporaries.

For us, she’s “Momsie” or “Nanay.” But on my part, I love to call her “Mader.”

I grew up in a generation where spanking was part of disciplining children, but it was never her style.

You would only feel her anger when she was already raising her voice.

And that was enough for us to stop and behave again.

Just like my father, my mom did not have a college education, thanks to World War II.

But that did not stop her from dreaming a better life for our family.

While my father was working as an ice cream vendor and later as a truck, jeepney and taxi driver as we grew up, Nanay would make shifts performing her role as a wife, a mother, a sales agent of a beauty product, a seller of made-to-order clothes, and as a maker and seller of all sorts of food and refreshments in our neighborhood, among others.

I was in my Grade 3 when I became Nanay’s “announcer” while selling mangoes in Blumentritt, Manila.

I and my two Ates would not have been able to finish college if Nanay and Tatay didn’t grab the chance to open a small bakery in a depressed community along Commonwealth Avenue.

Today (May 5) would have been my Mader’s 86th birthday.

And knowing her, I’m sure that she would prefer my sharing of her funny anecdotes instead of the sad parts of her journey.

My Mader was a good dance partner to my late Tatay Oden, as my older siblings would tell me.

But please, don’t ask her to sing or she would have no choice but to bring the house down – with the audience laughing.

My father also used to tell us that Nanay was so afraid of worms, but I did not believe him.

One time while I was gardening in front of our house, I saw a worm. The kid in me kicked in. And to test if Tatay was telling the truth, I showed it to Nanay with a trembling voice – mimicking the tone of somebody in a haunted house and said: “Nanay… bulate….” while waving the worm at her.

To my surprise, Nanay’s pinkish complexion literally turned white and she began to faint.

Good thing that Tatay was there and was quick to catch her.

When she recovered, all she could do was laugh with all of us. No hurting words. No spanking. Since then, no more worm jokes.

My two older brothers who reside abroad – Odie and Yeng – would always surprise her with an unannounced homecoming. And each time they did, she would cry with mixed emotions and upon recovery would say: “Ano pasalubong mo sa akin?”

A simple party was enough for her to shed tears. There were times that she would even dance with her grandchildren to show her happiness.

One rose or a bouquet of flowers could melt her heart so easy.

One of her favorite stories to her friends was when I surprised her with my first ever news report at GMA-7 some years ago.

I couldn’t forget her baffled facial expression when she confronted me the night she saw me reporting for GMA-7 (which, incidentally, was my first day at work).

“Beh [short for baby – me, being the youngest]! Bakit wala ka na sa Channel 5 ?! ” followed by a shriek upon hearing the confirmation that I was with GMA-7 already.

Since then, Mader would always introduce me to her friends and relatives as: “Anak kong reporter.”

And we would tease her by reminding her: “Bawal magyabang,” and she would retort with: “Eh totoo naman ah.”

Just like any mom, Mader was always proud of all her children whom, I dare say, didn’t give her a headache, much less bring shame on our family.

She repeatedly said in our many chit-chats how thankful she was to God for giving her the kind of life that she has.

Looking back, I could safely say that Nanay was able to etch a good mark here and that she was a happy, contented and grateful soul.

And why not? She often enters my dreams, especially when I feel down or sick, and puts happy thoughts in it.