Of post-birthday and last birthday celebrations

September 2016

Around lunchtime,  I met with my sister at a restaurant near my office in Makati. It has become our tradition to eat somewhere fancy to celebrate my birthday. But because of my mother's deteriorating condition, we got to celebrate my 26th birthday a month later. We ordered Filipino cuisine and distracted ourselves. While waiting for the orders to arrive, I reminded my sister of our mother's birthday.

"Hapit na baya ang birthday ni mama. Unsa imo plan, te?" I asked her.

"Mubisita nalang ta niya sa QC," she answered.

When I couldn't think of another topic to discuss, I asked her the question we've been dreading to answer since our mother got hospitalized.

"Ready na ba ka te?" I asked slowly, trying to soften whatever blow this might cause her.

"Ready saan?"

"Kay mama," I added. "She's not getting any better naman gud."

She paused.

"Ambot toy," she sighed.

"Pray lang ta toy."

"Pero, when it happens ba, ready na ka?" I pressed.

"Oo," she replied weakly.

"Kung plan ni God, then I-accept nalang nato."

Silence hung in the air. I was never the person to ask difficult questions. But I felt relieved knowing in our own ways, my sister and I were preparing of "it." The awkward silence gave away what we both feared at that moment: Our mother's upcoming birthday might be her last.

"Pray lang ta toy," my sister cut into the silence, "Wala'y imposible kay God."

I nodded in response.

The needed distraction came in the form of our order. The food arrived and we ate.

"Post-birthday celebration ni nimo, toy," she remarked.

"Yep," I replied.

October 8, 2016

Around lunchtime my younger sister and I went to Mandaluyong to meet  my older sister. It was our mother's 55th birthday, and we were going to celebrate it with her in QC. It was a confusing period in my life---my mother and her husband stayed with my aunt in QC, my older sister rented a room in Mandaluyong, while I and my younger sister were left in Taguig.

The decision to stay in QC was because it was nearer to PGH than Taguig. And because my mother---ever since that time she was rushed to the hospital after turning yellow---had grown weaker, it was best to prepare for the worse.

When we alighted the bus, my older sister was already waiting for us in front of McDonald's. We flagged a new bus en route to QC and arrived at the bus stop 30 minutes later. We bought cake and other desserts at a Robinson's mall near the terminal. We rode a tricycle all the way to my aunt's house. Upon arriving, I quickly scanned the small living area for my mother. I found her sitting on one corner. She looked at my direction and with affectionate recognition smiled behind her mask. Her children, one by one, approached her and planted a kiss on her face. When it was my turn, I  hugged the emaciated form of my mother with the strength of a toddler. I was afraid that she'd break.

The celebration started right after we arrived. Food were passed around and stuffed on faces. Karaoke songs were played in the background. New memories were created. It wasn't long before my mother, after being cajoled by her husband, took the mic and sang her last karaoke song.

My mother was shy. But when convinced and encouraged, she can knock your socks off. And even with her frail state, she surprised us with a beautiful rendition of Debby Boone's You light up my life.

She struggled singing. You could hear it in her voice. We sang with her, not that she needed the backing vocals, her soft voice was already amplified by the mic. But we thought by singing along she'd be encouraged to finish the song. And she did. Luckily, someone recorded her singing. That video of her was played over and over during my mother's wake. And even if it was her last recorded moment, I couldn't bear to watch it again.

The chorus of the song goes:

'Cause you, you light up my life

You give me hope to carry on

You light up my days

And fill my nights with song

Oh mama, how my heart aches with sorrow whenever I listen to your song. But thank you for being my light. Thank you for helping me carry on.