Note: Fr Camaya is from FIN but
currently at
Testaccio, Rome. The article was published in the
Philippine Star on
Mother's Day this year.
MANILA: 5 June 2012 -- Saint
Therese of Lisieux wrote: “The loveliest masterpiece of the
heart of
God is the heart of a mother.” These words are affirmed
in the
womb, even before the child is born. For even if the
fetus has a
heart of its own, able to pump blood into its incipient form,
its lungs
do not yet function and it is the mother that supplies it with
oxygen-rich blood. The beautiful dynamics goes beyond
the womb:
the mother’s heart pulsates for the child, continuously giving
it life.
Traditionally seen as the organ for the passions, the heart
has become
the symbol of love. From this enduring symbol I recall
two of the
many beautiful qualities of my mother: care and endurance—the
heart of
fire and the heart of bronze.
Care. To
give birth to a child, to nurture it as it grows is a given
for all
mothers. Mommy was hands-on in this and much more: she was my
first
teacher from whom I learned the basic skills—reading, writing,
arithmetic. She taught me how to pray and from her I
learned many
other practical skills that one cannot do without.
But my mother was also a school teacher. For almost forty
years she
taught high school mathematics. With her many tasks as a
teacher
and at an era when there were no computers, it makes me wonder
how she
had managed working and at the same time caring for naughty
children
like us. But she did! When she came home she prepared our
dinner, gave
us tutorials and tucked us into bed. She saw to it that
everyone
was all right.
Endurance.
I have always seen my mother as a strong woman. When I
was a
little kid she would take me to Manila—to Divisoria, which was
to me a
hostile jungle. I clung to Mommy as she walked past the
throng of
people. Her skirt, which I clutched tightly, was my
refuge.
Nothing in the world made me feel more secure.
Mommy was able to stand on her own for several years when my
father had
to work abroad. It was not easy taking care of five children
who
occasionally gave heartaches, but there she was, the ever
patient,
persevering mother who raised us up in those early
years. She had
an inner strength that also gave her a high tolerance for the
pain
brought by her chronic illnesses.
The beating of my mother’s heart came to an end last March.
One morning, after going on some errands, my father went to
the
bedroom. My mother was lying down solving a crossword
puzzle. Seeing him, Mommy invited him to take
snacks. He
told her that he needed to rest and would follow later. She
told him
that she would cook turon (sweet banana rolls). Daddy
dozed off
for a while and saw a fleeting vision of himself dead (cf.
item below,
which prompted him to ask: “If I were dead, who would take
care of my
wife?” He woke up and looked for her. He saw her
in the
kitchen: she was lying down, gasping for breath. He
cried to her
and put a pillow under her. He tried to carry her but could
not.
He asked for help but she breathed her last breath even before
they
could make it to the hospital. It was a heart attack.
Shakespeare put it thus:
…and by a sleep, to
say we end The heart-ache, and
the thousand Natural shocks That Flesh is heir
to? 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be
wished.
Yet I would like to see the event this way: On that quiet day,
Mommy’s
heart that had consistently pulsated to give life wanted to
leap and
burst forth to proclaim her love for her husband and her
children.
After all, only a few days before, she was able to call all
her five
children dispersed in different parts of the world; and now
she died
serving her husband. She was content. It was
Jesus’
consummatum est on the cross. She saw to it that
everyone was all
right. It was the yearning of my mother’s heart, a true
masterpiece indeed.
My Father’s Vision
March 6 was a normal day for Peping and Alice. They went
to mass
together and prayed for their son Edwin who was celebrating
his
birthday. Then Peping went out to pay some bills. For some
unexplainable reason, he lost his way and the usual
twenty-minute walk
lasted more than an hour. He reached home exhausted and
went to
the bedroom to rest. Alice was lying down solving a
crossword
puzzle. She invited him to take some snacks and he said
“I’ll go
later. I am very tired and I need to rest.” Alice went
to the
kitchen to make turon. Peping closed his eyes and had a
dream: he
saw many priests and among them was his son. He saw
himself dead
and he kept asking if this was real. He told himself:
“If I were
dead, where is my wife? Who will now take care of
her?” And
in the dream, he searched for her. He suddenly awoke and
at the
first instance, he went to the kitchen and there he saw his
wife,
gasping for breath. Her last action was for him; her
last breath,
in his arms.
