Mama, Mama

There are times when one is forced to think about the people in their life, and the kind of impact those people had in the course of that person's history.  I tend to think about that stuff a lot, actually, but wanted to share this one with you.

My grandmother came to the USA a little while after my younger brother was born.  Mama took care of Bro while my parents worked and I was at school.  She liked to remind me of the days that she would take Bro in the stroller to meet me at the bus stop after school, and Bro would yell out, "Ata! Ata!" as soon as he saw me getting off of the bus. (He didn't say Ate correctly {A-teh} for awhile).  Of course, being the brat of an older sister I was, I tended to ignore his cuteness, but Mama never let me forget how much my brother looked up to me back then.  

Growing up with Mama in the house was quite different than before she had arrived.  I was no longer the pseudo-latch key kid, and there was now always someone home, cooking her wonderful dinners and snacks.  Mama made the best cascaron, and she also made other goodies like pechy-pechy and palitaw.  Many of those dishes consisted of freshly grated coconut, and I can still picture her or my grandfather using a special coconut grater.  Nowadays they could just buy the stuff already grated, but this was made from scratch, and with all the love that good cooking entails.  My friends loved it when Mama would cook pancit and lumpia, too...especially Angela.  Angela lived across the street from us, whom Mama also watched over after school, and Mama absolutely loved to cook for her, because she loved to see everyone eat her food.  Mama also loved cooking for Bro, and always insisted that I should like the dishes she made because "Ryan likes it."  Ah, the Bro.  The Golden Boy.  The one who now doesn't really eat Filipino food unless you trick him.  He was the light in her world.  Well, until Brady came along, and became Platinum Boy. ;)  Today I emulated Mama when I heated up my food on a frying pan instead of in the microwave, because that's how I learned to do things before the microwave came to fruition.  Fried spaghetti, anyone?  Mama was a home economics teacher in the Philippines, and she made play clothes for us.  Unfortunately, her sewing skills did not transfer to me, but Bro might make you a duffel bag if you ask him nicely.  

Mama raised us to be kind and polite.  She'd remind us to say everything respectfully to ou elders, and wonder why we didn't like whatever or whomever it was we didn't like at the moment.  She always saw the good in everyone, which kinda made me feel guilty because I knew she was right.  She was a wonderful model of a Christian, always generous with her self, her money, her cooking, and her ear.  When I got older and wasn't at my parents' home anymore, I'd still spend time with Mama and she'd ask about my friends.  She liked to hear my stories about them, and wanted the latest update on everyone's boyfriends, just like everyone else.  I think that I probably owe some purses to people because I told Mama some stuff, but not to worry.  I don't think she ever repeated anything I told her, unless she thought it might help me and my mom get along better.  Daughters and mothers always have a special kind of anxiety in their relationships, and Mama was always there to help smooth things out between my mom and me.   

Mama was also very devoted to God, and always had an offering out in front of the house's Santo Nino on special days.  Whenever I'm at mass, I can hear her voice during the different responses, because she would say them with meaning in every word.  Anyone that tells me that the Catholic responses are just words being parroted out of our mouths obviously never met Mama.  When she said "Thanks be to God," you could hear that she meant it, and she'd make you feel it, too.  Today was the first day that I went to Mass since the event of last week, and I had to struggle to keep from falling apart when I imagined her reciting the congregational words.  I remember her telling my grandfather that he needed to go to church with us, so that he could see "Sherry singing in front of hundreds of people."  She was one of my champions when I decided to sing.  I thought of her face in the congregation today, and wished so much that she was there these last several years.  (She hasn't lived in the area for awhile, so she couldn't attend my masses).

We all have great stories about the way Mama would make us laugh.  Like the time that she was making banana rolls (turon) at a family get-together, and she was so busy laughing with her friends that she didn't notice she was using powdered creamer instead of sugar.  That was some odd-tasting turon that day!  There's also the time that we went camping and it was so windy outside that we all ended up huddled in one tent, listening to the wind whipping around everything outside.  As we all discussed how strong the wind was, Mama decided to put in her 2 cents and said that it was also windy.  OK, that's what we were talking about, Mama!  She just wanted to be a part of the conversation, I guess.  We called her "Echo" a lot because of stuff like that, and also because she tended to pass the time away by saying people's and dog's names twice, like, "Ay, Cadence, Cadence."  This confused the dog because she'd wonder why Mama kept calling her and didn't do anything once she got to her.  

Mama was also quite the dynamo.  She never could sit still, except maybe to watch game shows or basketball.  She was always sweeping up something, or cooking, or doing laundry.  The reason she broke her hip was because even though she had been told not to do any housework once she became more frail, she walked outside to try to bring in the empty trash barrels, and fell while trying to pull one.  Even after her surgery, she would sneak outside when nobody was home, and sweep up the patio.  The family's love of basketball was not lost on her, however, and she'd sit down and watch games with us.  To the rest of the family's chagrin, she became a Chicago Bulls fan during the Jordan era, and rooted for them even when they played the Lakers.  And they called ME the traitor when I loved MJ so much and I was still rooting for the Lakers!  But I'd always go to where she was watching, and Mama and I would talk about the wonders of MJ. :)

One of Mama's proudest moments was when she became a US citizen.  She went to class at the community college, and I quizzed her before she took the test.  She was 80-something years old then, and I was really proud of her when she came home, waving her American flag.

Most of all when I think back on Mama's effect on me, I think of that smile of hers.  Even when she didn't have her dentures in, I loved to see her smile.  She found such joy in everything (well, except for when Papa was irritating her),  and I loved to see the light in her eyes.  That light was never so bright, though, as the days that she spent with her great-grandson.  We're all grateful that she was able to meet him, and I hope that even as he grows up, he'll still remember Mama.

Mama passed away last Sunday.  It's been a difficult week of preparation for our final goodbyes, but at least she's not suffering anymore.  We've been comforting each other with our funny stories, and I'm thankful to have a family that is supportive and caring.  She's the last of my grandparents to go, and the one to whom I was the closest.  On Monday, I'll be singing as my tribute to her.  I hope that God grants me the strength to sing well. 

I don't know if I'd be the person I am today if Mama had stayed in the Philippines.  I owe much of the kindness in my heart to her.  I like to think that I get my smile from her, and I hope that I get the chance to touch people's lives in the loving way that she did ... so they can catch the contagious smile, too.

Goodbye, Mama.  I love you, and just like you never forgot who I was even in this last difficult year, I'll never forget you.