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My Nanay
Part of a series on our moms—or about being a mom—for Mother's Day
The scariest book I’ve ever read is Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None.” I was 12 years old when I first read it and I remember being so terrified the night I finished it that I couldn’t sleep. I kept tossing and turning in bed, imagining myself being transported to that chilling, horrific world.
I finally got up and moved to my parents’ bed and lay down next to my mom. She asked what was wrong and I told her about the scary book. She stroked my hair and patted my back and within seconds I found myself relaxing and drifting off to dreamland.
That’s what my mother is to me: a refuge during times of fear and uncertainty, and a beacon of hope during seasons of loneliness or despair.
She and I have not always had the best relationship. When I was younger I often blamed her for all the things that was lacking in our lives. See, we weren’t the richest of families. Of course, to a teenager, everything is our parents’ fault. What I never realized were the sacrifices they had to make in order to provide for us, their kids. I see that now, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
We get along great now, but my mom still gives me grief every time I tell her I’m switching jobs or companies, which has happened, like, five times in the last 16 years. “Na naman?!” she would say. But then, she taught the third grade in a public elementary school for over 30 years, and I understand the concern and incredulity. To me, that’s the very definition of commitment, and I couldn’t be more proud.
The best thing about my mom is her quiet strength and unshakeable faith in the goodness of people. Ours was a pretty ordinary household when I was growing up: lunch at Jollibee after Sunday mass; trips to the province (Leyte) during the summer; spaghetti, ice cream and cake during birthdays, and a simple feast with everybody gathered around the dining table in our little house during Christmas and New Year’s. All this is a testament to my mom’s humility, effortless grace, and beautifully grounded persona, and I couldn’t admire her more.
Today, I say a little prayer of thanks every night for all the blessings I have in my life, and family is always at the top. And every night, without fail, I ask only one thing from the Higher Being: that he continue to bless my mom with good health and long life, because I can’t even begin to imagine living in a world without her: the meals she lovingly prepares when I request for them; the unexpected text messages to ask about my day; her unmistakable laugh that sometimes turn into a cackle at the corniest jokes; and those gentle, loving hands that always reach out to caress my face and muss up my hair every time I come visit, which isn’t often enough. That’s my Nanay and I couldn’t love her more.
The scariest book I’ve ever read is Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None.” I was 12 years old when I first read it and I remember being so terrified the night I finished it that I couldn’t sleep. I kept tossing and turning in bed, imagining myself being transported to that chilling, horrific world.
I finally got up and moved to my parents’ bed and lay down next to my mom. She asked what was wrong and I told her about the scary book. She stroked my hair and patted my back and within seconds I found myself relaxing and drifting off to dreamland.
That’s what my mother is to me: a refuge during times of fear and uncertainty, and a beacon of hope during seasons of loneliness or despair.
PJ (second from right) with his mother Ledy Caña and siblings Allan and Len
We get along great now, but my mom still gives me grief every time I tell her I’m switching jobs or companies, which has happened, like, five times in the last 16 years. “Na naman?!” she would say. But then, she taught the third grade in a public elementary school for over 30 years, and I understand the concern and incredulity. To me, that’s the very definition of commitment, and I couldn’t be more proud.
The best thing about my mom is her quiet strength and unshakeable faith in the goodness of people. Ours was a pretty ordinary household when I was growing up: lunch at Jollibee after Sunday mass; trips to the province (Leyte) during the summer; spaghetti, ice cream and cake during birthdays, and a simple feast with everybody gathered around the dining table in our little house during Christmas and New Year’s. All this is a testament to my mom’s humility, effortless grace, and beautifully grounded persona, and I couldn’t admire her more.
Today, I say a little prayer of thanks every night for all the blessings I have in my life, and family is always at the top. And every night, without fail, I ask only one thing from the Higher Being: that he continue to bless my mom with good health and long life, because I can’t even begin to imagine living in a world without her: the meals she lovingly prepares when I request for them; the unexpected text messages to ask about my day; her unmistakable laugh that sometimes turn into a cackle at the corniest jokes; and those gentle, loving hands that always reach out to caress my face and muss up my hair every time I come visit, which isn’t often enough. That’s my Nanay and I couldn’t love her more.
