i just watched ded na si lolo with tim, nad, edith, igo, cj and pao. i have long wanted to bring them to the movies with a little snack afterwards. this afternoon, i finally was able to do what has been planned long ago. the short outing was such an enjoyable experience mainly because of the movie itself. it was enlightening and relaxing at the same time. how a week-long lamay was made into a very good movie with very good actors in a very familiar plot deserves the accolade of the movie going public.
i think i should do this more often, i mean going out with family (kids, in-laws, nieces and nephews), and patronizing the works of the country's fine, but underrated, actors. to cap the day, we all had another laugh at the movie's wackiest scenes over burger, soda and french fries. now, that's what i call shallow joy ( as in mababaw na kaligayahan)!
IN MY LIFE...what a journey it has been, and the end is not in sight, but the stars are out tonight and they're bound to guide my way...
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
focus
it's a rainy thursday morning. the rains carry with it many apprehensions. will it rain on the 13th, a big day for St. Anthony and our elem group? will i be be able to finish two reports to be submitted in court on the 9th? how is my son doing in dubai? poy's room needed a lot of cleaning-it's my halfway room( hehehe!); all the dogs are inside the house due to the rains, and what a mess they've created; there's nothing in the ref; the laundry gets filed up, etc, etc, etc.
there's only one answer to all these- focus! prioritize and then focus on what should be done first. i hope i can do it. it's raining rains and toyo around!
there's only one answer to all these- focus! prioritize and then focus on what should be done first. i hope i can do it. it's raining rains and toyo around!
speeches
i've been invited to speak before specific audiences in the past. the shortest speech i have given is reproduced above. the longest will be published later on. it's currently missing in my files but it's about gender sensitivity which i delivered on women's day celeb in march 07. below is the complete text of my shortest speech:
Sister Directress, Mrs. Bondad, fellow teachers, parents and students, good afternoon.
I just saw a 1994 Warner Bros. film entitled 'With Honors'. It is a story of four roommates in a Harvard University dorm, one of whom is so motivated with honors and so, he prepared a lot for it. But luck was not with him because he lost his only copy of his thesis to a man, an ex-sailor, a bum who promised to return each page only if each of his demands is met. And there were 80 pages in all. In his association with this man who had nothing at all, no money, no home, no family, no friends, he slowly but painstakingly learned the lessons that anyone can only learn by heart- like caring for others, like seeking and finding what is beautiful in all people and in all things, like filling the hearts with love and warmth and compassion. In the end, Harvard, as he was called by Joe Pesci's character in the film, did not even get a cum laude, but he has found joy in living and peace within himself.
Was he a success? Yes, he was. In many ways he was. An honor's card is not an end. It is a means to an end. In its absence, a person may still be successful, but of course, when it is on hand, nothing should go wrong. You may strive to bind an album of honor's cards or collect a handful of medals. That's fine. But then, never forget the lessons learned by Harvard, the lessons taught by the heart because only then, can you truly deserve to be conferred the title- With Honors.
My warmest congratulations to all of you!
Thank you very much and good day.
Mrs. Rosalina F. Inocencio
- on the occasion of the
distribution of honor's
cards, Nov. 14, 1996, 4:00 pm
SJB Auditorium
Sister Directress, Mrs. Bondad, fellow teachers, parents and students, good afternoon.
I just saw a 1994 Warner Bros. film entitled 'With Honors'. It is a story of four roommates in a Harvard University dorm, one of whom is so motivated with honors and so, he prepared a lot for it. But luck was not with him because he lost his only copy of his thesis to a man, an ex-sailor, a bum who promised to return each page only if each of his demands is met. And there were 80 pages in all. In his association with this man who had nothing at all, no money, no home, no family, no friends, he slowly but painstakingly learned the lessons that anyone can only learn by heart- like caring for others, like seeking and finding what is beautiful in all people and in all things, like filling the hearts with love and warmth and compassion. In the end, Harvard, as he was called by Joe Pesci's character in the film, did not even get a cum laude, but he has found joy in living and peace within himself.
Was he a success? Yes, he was. In many ways he was. An honor's card is not an end. It is a means to an end. In its absence, a person may still be successful, but of course, when it is on hand, nothing should go wrong. You may strive to bind an album of honor's cards or collect a handful of medals. That's fine. But then, never forget the lessons learned by Harvard, the lessons taught by the heart because only then, can you truly deserve to be conferred the title- With Honors.
My warmest congratulations to all of you!
Thank you very much and good day.
Mrs. Rosalina F. Inocencio
- on the occasion of the
distribution of honor's
cards, Nov. 14, 1996, 4:00 pm
SJB Auditorium
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
sis
in my mid-40's, i developed hypertension. that's because i have no sister.
let me explain that first. i actually have two sisters. connie, the youngest from my parents' union, died of leukemia in 1967. she was then 10 years old and i was 14. how i survived that without a mother by my side is an incredible story. my second sister is anna carmeli, from my father's marriage with my stepmother. i am 20 years older than her. carmeli is such a lovely, kind and charming sister. but my fate did not permit us to spend as much time as we'd like to while she was growing up. it was not our fault that we did not grow up together, but being a descendant of my father is enough for me to love her. in fact, we may not always see each other but we hold each other dear in our hearts, just like with Dong and my two other brothers Jojo and Jim.
what i meant with my opening statement was that in my journey from adolescence to adulthood, there was no other significant female to whom i can share all my life's pains and sorrows, triumphs and joys. i have a lot of friends and i also hold them dear, but i cannot get myself to unburden before them. i feel that all my baggages should not be their concerns. hence, in the darkest days and loneliest moments of my life, i chose to be alone. now, it's taking a toll in my health.
i am not envious, but i admire women who have that particular someone, another female, to whom they can turn to when they need someone to lean on. i have a very good friend and kumare who actually is at my beck and call. however, knowing she has insurmountable problems of her own prevents me from opening up to her ALL that i need to pour out. i'd rather that she lean on me than I on her.
my need for a sister is not only because i want a shock absorber. i like cooking, eating, malling and travelling and just chilling out especially on a rainy day. it would be doubly fun to do those things if a sister is around. i would like to feel how it is to borrow clothes, shoes, jewelries, etc. from a sister. i would like to experience how it is to quarrel and make-up later with her.
i really miss having a sister beside me, but God, in His infinite goodness, gifted me with a daughter with whom i can do what sisters usually do.
let me explain that first. i actually have two sisters. connie, the youngest from my parents' union, died of leukemia in 1967. she was then 10 years old and i was 14. how i survived that without a mother by my side is an incredible story. my second sister is anna carmeli, from my father's marriage with my stepmother. i am 20 years older than her. carmeli is such a lovely, kind and charming sister. but my fate did not permit us to spend as much time as we'd like to while she was growing up. it was not our fault that we did not grow up together, but being a descendant of my father is enough for me to love her. in fact, we may not always see each other but we hold each other dear in our hearts, just like with Dong and my two other brothers Jojo and Jim.
what i meant with my opening statement was that in my journey from adolescence to adulthood, there was no other significant female to whom i can share all my life's pains and sorrows, triumphs and joys. i have a lot of friends and i also hold them dear, but i cannot get myself to unburden before them. i feel that all my baggages should not be their concerns. hence, in the darkest days and loneliest moments of my life, i chose to be alone. now, it's taking a toll in my health.
i am not envious, but i admire women who have that particular someone, another female, to whom they can turn to when they need someone to lean on. i have a very good friend and kumare who actually is at my beck and call. however, knowing she has insurmountable problems of her own prevents me from opening up to her ALL that i need to pour out. i'd rather that she lean on me than I on her.
my need for a sister is not only because i want a shock absorber. i like cooking, eating, malling and travelling and just chilling out especially on a rainy day. it would be doubly fun to do those things if a sister is around. i would like to feel how it is to borrow clothes, shoes, jewelries, etc. from a sister. i would like to experience how it is to quarrel and make-up later with her.
i really miss having a sister beside me, but God, in His infinite goodness, gifted me with a daughter with whom i can do what sisters usually do.
Buddy Ferrer
All the good in me, I got from my father.
I do not know of anyone in and out of our family circle who has ill feelings towards my father. I also do not know of anyone who has badmouthed him at any time in his life. All I remember are the praises of friends, neighbors and just about anyone who knew him.
In the army, he was called Buddy- a very appropriate name for he was such a buddy to everyone. Salvador Cuelana Ferrer was born in Ligao, Albay where he finished his elementary school. His life isn’t the type that would merit a movie or a teleserye. It was so simple yet well spent. He enlisted in the army, was assigned in Bulacan, fought in the Korean War in the 50’s, met and married my mother, had me, my brother Dong and my sister Connie. After only seven years of marriage, he lost my mother who died so young, leaving the three of us under his care, at the same time that he was in the military.
After ten years of being a widower, he remarried, had three more children, continued his military service until he retired and later was taken in as a very trusted employee by the family of the late Pres. RMagsaysay until his second retirement. Perhaps, it was his association with this distinguished family, having served as Mrs. Luz Banzon Magsaysay's close-in security for many, many years, which made him a very upright person and soldier. I saw how he respected all members of the Magsaysay family and how, in return, they all regarded him as family even until his death.
Tatay, as we called him, died of complications due to colon cancer. Just like a real soldier, he fought the Big C valiantly and surrendered only on April 9, 1999, the country’s Araw ng Kagitingan. This was exactly twelve days after my brother Jim's graduation from the PMA, a dream he nurtured for all his sons, but only became a reality with our youngest brother.
My father was born poor. He also died poor. For us, it was a great honor because he was in the military and his most productive years were under martial law. While other soldiers amassed wealth, he lived within his means. It is tempting to prefix the letters Hon. before his name, for he was such an honorable man, but since it’s used by many devious politicians and deceitful lawmakers, I had myself ruled by better judgment. Excuse me, my father is not a pig!
Tatay taught me many things. He brought home books and magazines for me to read. His gifts during my formative years consisted of subscriptions to the Free Press and Reader’s Digest, hardbound books and educational materials. Other kids my age then would not have been grateful, but I was ecstatic. We bonded through those reading materials. I developed a love for learning because my father loved to learn. What he knew from his own private readings and the lessons that life taught him deserved to be acknowledged as a college degree in itself.
He was physically present only on week-ends, yet, he was such an authority figure I could not ignore. Growing up without a mother, I had to be taught some “girl” things by my father. Before the school year opened in 1966, when I was about to enter my first year in high school, Tatay bought me my first deodorant, Veto. He said I should always be clean since I’ll be meeting so many other students. Later, he would bring me Revlon compact face powder, a real nice light blue bandanna and a black cap with flowerettes and sequins. Every year from my first birthday after getting married, till the last year before he died, I always received a piece of cloth for a vestida from him. There was nothing he gave me that I did not like, even if at the time they were given, I found no use for them.
Perhaps the best thing my father did for me was to visit me once a week without fail at my dormitory in UP during all of my five college years. I wonder if any other parent did that. He religiously did so even if I also go home to the province on week-ends. When I need something I could not provide myself, I will just call him at his employer’s place, and he will surely come and bring what I needed. When I get sick and confined at the university infirmary, he would come after being advised of my whereabouts. He tried and succeeded to be both father and mother to me. He was really one of God's perfect creations.
Tatay loved all my children and Dong’s children, too. Unfortunately, they spent very little time together because of some complications. But the love he had for his apos was very apparent in the glow of his face whenever he saw them. Just as he loved Dong and me, he also poured all the fatherly love he can give to Jojo, Carmeli and Jim. I remember one day in UP, while I was having a class, a staff of the Dean's office came up and summoned me, saying my father wanted to see me badly. When I went outside of the building, he saw me coming onto him and he started to cry, really cry. When I asked what the matter was, he, between sobs, related to me that Jojo, then still a little boy, was accidentally poured over with boiling water on his crib. Together, we went to the hospital to check on my little brother. Such love and care for all his children can only come from someone who had a depository of God's love in his being.
I will never, ever forget how Tatay received all my friends at home, offering whatever he can (like slices of pakwan) to make them feel welcome. I will never, ever forget that pair of blue sapphire earring, inside the box to which the card shown above is attached, that he gave me as a gift when I was still a young grade schooler. Even if it got lost somewhere, I vividly remember its shape (star) and the joy I felt while trying it on. I will never, ever forget the early Monday mornings when he prepared a hearty breakfast for me to take before going back to the university. I will never, ever forget each time that he would walk me to the bus or jeepney stop on my way back to school after spending the week-end at home. I will never, ever forget how, when we walk together, he would proudly tell whoever we encounter along the way that I passed the entrance exams at UP or that, later, I graduated from UP. I will never, ever forget how proud he was of me and what I have accomplished. My only regret is that I was not able to tell him or make him feel that I was and still am, so proud of him.
Tatay was the kindest person I knew. He had only good words for anybody. If he didn't want the company I or my brother kept, he would gently tell us to keep some distance between those people and us. When I decided to elope with my husband, all he did was to cry. He never threw a harsh word on us. When my marital troubles began to emerge, he did not say a word against my husband. Nothing. But I knew he was hurt too when he saw that I was. Up until his last days in his hospital bed, Tatay showed his refined, yet strong character despite his very painful bout with cancer.
I wanted to repay Tatay for all his kindness. The best way I could do that was to practice my profession- teaching. After all, he spent for my education from elementary to college. But I was faced with very limited choices later in life such that what would please him and myself will have to take a back seat. If he could see me now, domesticated and out of the academe, contrary to his wishes and our plans together in my younger years, I’m sure he will be displeased. For this I am very sorry. But Tatay is assured that in all of my undertakings, whether it is my choice or not, his good image will never be tainted. And most of all, he is assured that just like the way he raised me and my siblings, I also put my family, especially my children ahead of anything and anybody.
I do not know of anyone in and out of our family circle who has ill feelings towards my father. I also do not know of anyone who has badmouthed him at any time in his life. All I remember are the praises of friends, neighbors and just about anyone who knew him.
In the army, he was called Buddy- a very appropriate name for he was such a buddy to everyone. Salvador Cuelana Ferrer was born in Ligao, Albay where he finished his elementary school. His life isn’t the type that would merit a movie or a teleserye. It was so simple yet well spent. He enlisted in the army, was assigned in Bulacan, fought in the Korean War in the 50’s, met and married my mother, had me, my brother Dong and my sister Connie. After only seven years of marriage, he lost my mother who died so young, leaving the three of us under his care, at the same time that he was in the military.
After ten years of being a widower, he remarried, had three more children, continued his military service until he retired and later was taken in as a very trusted employee by the family of the late Pres. RMagsaysay until his second retirement. Perhaps, it was his association with this distinguished family, having served as Mrs. Luz Banzon Magsaysay's close-in security for many, many years, which made him a very upright person and soldier. I saw how he respected all members of the Magsaysay family and how, in return, they all regarded him as family even until his death.
Tatay, as we called him, died of complications due to colon cancer. Just like a real soldier, he fought the Big C valiantly and surrendered only on April 9, 1999, the country’s Araw ng Kagitingan. This was exactly twelve days after my brother Jim's graduation from the PMA, a dream he nurtured for all his sons, but only became a reality with our youngest brother.
My father was born poor. He also died poor. For us, it was a great honor because he was in the military and his most productive years were under martial law. While other soldiers amassed wealth, he lived within his means. It is tempting to prefix the letters Hon. before his name, for he was such an honorable man, but since it’s used by many devious politicians and deceitful lawmakers, I had myself ruled by better judgment. Excuse me, my father is not a pig!
Tatay taught me many things. He brought home books and magazines for me to read. His gifts during my formative years consisted of subscriptions to the Free Press and Reader’s Digest, hardbound books and educational materials. Other kids my age then would not have been grateful, but I was ecstatic. We bonded through those reading materials. I developed a love for learning because my father loved to learn. What he knew from his own private readings and the lessons that life taught him deserved to be acknowledged as a college degree in itself.
He was physically present only on week-ends, yet, he was such an authority figure I could not ignore. Growing up without a mother, I had to be taught some “girl” things by my father. Before the school year opened in 1966, when I was about to enter my first year in high school, Tatay bought me my first deodorant, Veto. He said I should always be clean since I’ll be meeting so many other students. Later, he would bring me Revlon compact face powder, a real nice light blue bandanna and a black cap with flowerettes and sequins. Every year from my first birthday after getting married, till the last year before he died, I always received a piece of cloth for a vestida from him. There was nothing he gave me that I did not like, even if at the time they were given, I found no use for them.
Perhaps the best thing my father did for me was to visit me once a week without fail at my dormitory in UP during all of my five college years. I wonder if any other parent did that. He religiously did so even if I also go home to the province on week-ends. When I need something I could not provide myself, I will just call him at his employer’s place, and he will surely come and bring what I needed. When I get sick and confined at the university infirmary, he would come after being advised of my whereabouts. He tried and succeeded to be both father and mother to me. He was really one of God's perfect creations.
Tatay loved all my children and Dong’s children, too. Unfortunately, they spent very little time together because of some complications. But the love he had for his apos was very apparent in the glow of his face whenever he saw them. Just as he loved Dong and me, he also poured all the fatherly love he can give to Jojo, Carmeli and Jim. I remember one day in UP, while I was having a class, a staff of the Dean's office came up and summoned me, saying my father wanted to see me badly. When I went outside of the building, he saw me coming onto him and he started to cry, really cry. When I asked what the matter was, he, between sobs, related to me that Jojo, then still a little boy, was accidentally poured over with boiling water on his crib. Together, we went to the hospital to check on my little brother. Such love and care for all his children can only come from someone who had a depository of God's love in his being.
I will never, ever forget how Tatay received all my friends at home, offering whatever he can (like slices of pakwan) to make them feel welcome. I will never, ever forget that pair of blue sapphire earring, inside the box to which the card shown above is attached, that he gave me as a gift when I was still a young grade schooler. Even if it got lost somewhere, I vividly remember its shape (star) and the joy I felt while trying it on. I will never, ever forget the early Monday mornings when he prepared a hearty breakfast for me to take before going back to the university. I will never, ever forget each time that he would walk me to the bus or jeepney stop on my way back to school after spending the week-end at home. I will never, ever forget how, when we walk together, he would proudly tell whoever we encounter along the way that I passed the entrance exams at UP or that, later, I graduated from UP. I will never, ever forget how proud he was of me and what I have accomplished. My only regret is that I was not able to tell him or make him feel that I was and still am, so proud of him.
Tatay was the kindest person I knew. He had only good words for anybody. If he didn't want the company I or my brother kept, he would gently tell us to keep some distance between those people and us. When I decided to elope with my husband, all he did was to cry. He never threw a harsh word on us. When my marital troubles began to emerge, he did not say a word against my husband. Nothing. But I knew he was hurt too when he saw that I was. Up until his last days in his hospital bed, Tatay showed his refined, yet strong character despite his very painful bout with cancer.
I wanted to repay Tatay for all his kindness. The best way I could do that was to practice my profession- teaching. After all, he spent for my education from elementary to college. But I was faced with very limited choices later in life such that what would please him and myself will have to take a back seat. If he could see me now, domesticated and out of the academe, contrary to his wishes and our plans together in my younger years, I’m sure he will be displeased. For this I am very sorry. But Tatay is assured that in all of my undertakings, whether it is my choice or not, his good image will never be tainted. And most of all, he is assured that just like the way he raised me and my siblings, I also put my family, especially my children ahead of anything and anybody.
Monday, June 1, 2009
what's in a name
i wonder why unlike some people, i have had so many nicknames before such that when friends from different points of my life converge at one time to talk about me, chances are, they will be confused.
my father and my relatives who helped raised me as a child called me Saling. that's my official nickname- a derivative of my full first name, Rosalina. consequently my playmates and most of our neighbors called me by that nickname. but we had some sosyal neighbors in the early 60's who called me Sally. and i responded well to them, too. that was a nice nickname, anyway. when i entered high school, i introduced myself as Sally to my newfound friends. towards the end of our first year in high school, my best friend pearlie started calling me Rochie. according to her, i have similarities with a certain rochie andres who was due to graduate that year. the name stuck so when i went to UP for college, i was known as rochie in the academe but was called saling at home. however, my Filipino group in college preferred to call me Saling instead of Rochie so when they ask for my whereabouts from my dorm mates, there was some sort of confusion. at st. mary's academy, most of my colleagues, who were younger, affixed the word Ate, hence, my new name has becomeAt e Saling ( a sign of old age slowly creeping in).
perhaps behind my back, my enemies or those who do not like me for no reason at all, have called me by some other nicknames. that's a possibility because i do that too, - i baptize people i dislike with names they probably will hate. hehehe!
but the name i love the most is the name Leng. only two people call me such- my late father and my husband, whom i call Ding. our nicknames for each other rhyme. maybe it's the sign that we are stuck with each other, no matter what.
my father and my relatives who helped raised me as a child called me Saling. that's my official nickname- a derivative of my full first name, Rosalina. consequently my playmates and most of our neighbors called me by that nickname. but we had some sosyal neighbors in the early 60's who called me Sally. and i responded well to them, too. that was a nice nickname, anyway. when i entered high school, i introduced myself as Sally to my newfound friends. towards the end of our first year in high school, my best friend pearlie started calling me Rochie. according to her, i have similarities with a certain rochie andres who was due to graduate that year. the name stuck so when i went to UP for college, i was known as rochie in the academe but was called saling at home. however, my Filipino group in college preferred to call me Saling instead of Rochie so when they ask for my whereabouts from my dorm mates, there was some sort of confusion. at st. mary's academy, most of my colleagues, who were younger, affixed the word Ate, hence, my new name has becomeAt e Saling ( a sign of old age slowly creeping in).
perhaps behind my back, my enemies or those who do not like me for no reason at all, have called me by some other nicknames. that's a possibility because i do that too, - i baptize people i dislike with names they probably will hate. hehehe!
but the name i love the most is the name Leng. only two people call me such- my late father and my husband, whom i call Ding. our nicknames for each other rhyme. maybe it's the sign that we are stuck with each other, no matter what.
of mothers and daughters
they say all mothers are daughters first. hence, they know what love means on the both sides of the fence.
i am an exception to the rule. i may now be an expert on loving my children, but i never had an idea of how i was loved by my mother. no, it's not that she had her shortcomings. it was more because she died very early at the age of 24 when i was just 6 years old. my memories of her were very hazy and blurred. i just knew she had those crippling headaches and one day, she was dead. i do not know if it was a blessing that i grew up never hearing a mother's daily irritating chants that my friends used to tell me. i got used to dressing up all by my lonesome self when i was already of school age. there was no one to bring me to school nor was there that someone who buys all my school needs. i had no one to hold my hand or kiss me goodbye before i walk the few meters from home to school. despite all these, i survived. the greater part of my survival was because i had a great father, the one who shaped and molded me into a person that i was before i married the man who would later change me into the person i am now. ( my father deserves a nice blog, so i won't mention him here anymore.)
there is no use wondering what kind of a mother mine could have been had she been blessed with a longer life. one thing is sure, though, i probably would love her the way my daughter timmy loves me now had we been blessed with longer years together. as it is, and i ask for forgiveness for this, my love for my mother is that kind of "built-in" love that all children should have for their mothers. ashamed as i am, i have to admit that because i did not know her that much, my love for her is not as deep as every child's love for a mother should be. i guess this will remain as one of the things i won't have knowledge of throughout my lifetime- a mother's love. maybe her brand of 'mothering' is totally different from mine, but i will never ever know the difference. despite her early demise, i still thank God that it happened at a time when i was still innocent and young. As such, i didn't have the capacity to tell the difference of living with and living without a mother.
i hope there is another time and space given us mortals beyond this life so that what we missed early on in our lives, we still can catch up with later. it would be nice if somewhere, sometime, my mother and i can have some coffee and cookies in a place similar to starbucks. it wouldn't just be one cup for each of us. i have a lot to tell her- a lifetime, actually.
In picture above is my mother, Milagros Domingo Ferrer in a borrowed wedding gown. Reliable sources told me that this was taken a few weeks before she died on November 5, 1959. I was 6 years and two months old at the time. They said she was so keen on having a solo picture of her dressed in a wedding gown. Since a neighbor has just gotten married then, she borrowed it and went to a nearby studio where the picture was taken.
i am an exception to the rule. i may now be an expert on loving my children, but i never had an idea of how i was loved by my mother. no, it's not that she had her shortcomings. it was more because she died very early at the age of 24 when i was just 6 years old. my memories of her were very hazy and blurred. i just knew she had those crippling headaches and one day, she was dead. i do not know if it was a blessing that i grew up never hearing a mother's daily irritating chants that my friends used to tell me. i got used to dressing up all by my lonesome self when i was already of school age. there was no one to bring me to school nor was there that someone who buys all my school needs. i had no one to hold my hand or kiss me goodbye before i walk the few meters from home to school. despite all these, i survived. the greater part of my survival was because i had a great father, the one who shaped and molded me into a person that i was before i married the man who would later change me into the person i am now. ( my father deserves a nice blog, so i won't mention him here anymore.)
there is no use wondering what kind of a mother mine could have been had she been blessed with a longer life. one thing is sure, though, i probably would love her the way my daughter timmy loves me now had we been blessed with longer years together. as it is, and i ask for forgiveness for this, my love for my mother is that kind of "built-in" love that all children should have for their mothers. ashamed as i am, i have to admit that because i did not know her that much, my love for her is not as deep as every child's love for a mother should be. i guess this will remain as one of the things i won't have knowledge of throughout my lifetime- a mother's love. maybe her brand of 'mothering' is totally different from mine, but i will never ever know the difference. despite her early demise, i still thank God that it happened at a time when i was still innocent and young. As such, i didn't have the capacity to tell the difference of living with and living without a mother.
i hope there is another time and space given us mortals beyond this life so that what we missed early on in our lives, we still can catch up with later. it would be nice if somewhere, sometime, my mother and i can have some coffee and cookies in a place similar to starbucks. it wouldn't just be one cup for each of us. i have a lot to tell her- a lifetime, actually.
In picture above is my mother, Milagros Domingo Ferrer in a borrowed wedding gown. Reliable sources told me that this was taken a few weeks before she died on November 5, 1959. I was 6 years and two months old at the time. They said she was so keen on having a solo picture of her dressed in a wedding gown. Since a neighbor has just gotten married then, she borrowed it and went to a nearby studio where the picture was taken.
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