The Joy of Mothering Ma and Pa

Mama was sick last week. She could not explain where and how she developed amoebiasis. Ma thinks it must be from some fat-laden food she bought. Pa called me one day and said that Ma was in bed with a slight fever. He said that Ma had diarrhea, too. That didn’t sound good. I was in St. Paul University in Manila doing restoration work with my team when I learned about this development. I left right away to check on Ma.

My parents are both 83 years old and they represent a generation whose experience in World War II brought out the best in them. They learned to be strong, brave and resilient in the face of danger,devastation, death and hunger. Ma and Pa were high school sweethearts. They were born and grew up in Iloilo—Ma in Jaro, and Pa in Pototan. Ma and Pa were in their 20s when the 2nd World War broke out. Pa joined the USAFFE and later became a guerilla on Panay Island. Ma and her family went hiding in the barrios where there were few Japanese soldiers.

The whole country was in ruin after the war. The wounds and scars left by the war were so deep, it took a lot of courage and strength for the Filipinos to heal themselves and to rise and build their lives. These qualities of independence, fortitude and resiliency are deeply entrenched in my parents and their generation. This explains why Mama and Papa refuse to live with me. They say they are still capable and fairly strong and could do things by themselves. And yet Papa called me to inform me of Mama’s condition.

It was starting to rain when I got to their place. I paid the taxi and walked as fast as I could so I wouldn’t get wet. We bundled Ma and Pa drove to the UP Infirmary. Ma was thinner and paler and a bit disoriented. I guess this was because she ate less and was sleeping most of the time.

I found myself at their cottage almost everyday, checking on Ma’s temperature and appetite. Before Ma got sick, I would only stay in the iliving room and exchange stories and tales with them. But now, I make it a point to check their refrigerator. I have thrown away tons of stale food, limp and rotten vegetables, and forgotten goodies that have lost their power of attraction!

Papa and Mama seem happy and at ease now that that this small crisis is over! I now prepare food for them every two days and Jenny, my trusted and efficient housekeeper, brings the food and whatever surprises to Ma and Pa when I’m away at work.

I dropped by last Sunday before attending Sunday worship and found Mama up and about, going through some trash and sorting things out. She’s getting there and the color has returned to her cheeks. Papa is as cheerful as ever, telling me stories about his invention and meetings with his buddy Rolly Rodriguez. I listen and I savor this moment of happiness with them. I hug them and kiss their wrinkled cheeks. I say good-bye and whisper a prayer of thanks for this gift of love that continues to flow from their aging hearts.