The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in my heart. I, a man of few words, struggle to express the depth of my love for my mother. Though a simple phone call lies within easy reach, connecting us across the miles that separate Barcelona from my own life, I often find myself hesitant. Is it a fear of uttering empty pleasantries? Am I simply too engaged in the whirlwind of my own existence? Perhaps.
My childhood was a tapestry woven with threads of longing. At the tender age of ten or eleven, I witnessed my mother depart for Spain, leaving a gaping hole in my young heart. The absence of her maternal embrace cast a long shadow over my formative years. I grappled with a sense of detachment, adrift in a sea of unfamiliar emotions. There were periods, I confess, when the very memory of her faded, as if I were a solitary island, forced to weather life's storms alone. My father, God rest his soul, provided an inconstant presence, but it was a different kind of love, a unique story to tell someday if God's willing.
My mother, with a firm determination, toiled tirelessly to pave the way for our education back in the Philippines. Her sacrifices fuelled my academic pursuits, culminating in my college degree – a testament to her tireless hard work. In 2000, she guided my footsteps to Barcelona, a city that would become the backdrop for my own journey of self-discovery, the foundation upon which I built my family and forged a future.
Looking back, I may harbour a few "what ifs," a yearning to alter certain choices along the winding path of my life. Yet, I embrace the totality of my experiences, the triumphs and the missteps alike. This life, with all its imperfections, is the one I chose, the one I was destined to live. And for that, I am eternally grateful to my mother. Without her love and support, my life would be an entirely different, and undoubtedly, a far less fulfilling story.
My mother is not without her flaws. Her spirit, at times, can be a formidable force, challenging to navigate, my siblings can attest to that. But these imperfections are merely facets of her complex and vibrant personality. She sacrificed countless dreams for the sake of her children, her steadfast love extending to my own children and my wife.
Today, on her 71st birthday, I wish to honour the extraordinary woman who shaped my destiny. Words, however fluent, seem inadequate to express the profound gratitude I feel. I simply want her to know that the man I am today is a direct reflection of her enduring love and unwavering support.
Happy Birthday, Mom. May the Lord bless you with an abundance of joy, peace, and good health. May His face shine upon you and grant you His amazing grace. Amen.
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