ARLENE REWRITTEN
ARLENE REWRITTEN
I never thought I would be able to write of her again. I thought that the piece I had written about her last year, would be my last. I did not think that I would be able to revise my piece that talked of her, in the hopes of honoring her even more. You see, when I am asked to write about any person at all, who has been a seed of change, serves as my inspiration, or empowers those around her, I can only think of one person. And that person is she.
She was born in a typical Filipino family. She grew up strong and intelligent. She knows all the stories of the heroes of our country; those who are well known, and those whose stories are often left unsung. These are the stories that she revives; tells her children of, so that they may know that in everyone, there lies a hero.
She is a daughter. She loves her mother and father, and is forever willing to serve and take care of them. She once told me that her mother is the reason as to why she is diligent, just as her father is the reason as to why she treats everyone equally, and with respect. I can still remember those words she told me, when I asked why she loves her parents. “Anak,” she said. “You must always love your parents, for they will always, always, be there to support and guide you in this life.”
She is a wife. She is a wife who loves her husband, just as much as her husband loves her. She is hardworking and is ready to cook, clean, and take care of the whole family. However, she knows of her rights, and when she feels she is too burdened, she lovingly, gently reminds her husband that just because she is a woman, does not mean she must shoulder all the housework. And when her husband forgets, she does not hesitate to speak her mind. Her voice is not to be left unheard, her thoughts are not to be left unspoken, and her ideas are not to be left unnoticed. She is a wife, yes - but she is a wife who is independent and strongly believes in the equality of all things breathing.
She is a mother. Ah! This is the part I love best about her. You see, she is a mother of not one, not two, not even three… Ah! I have lost count already. She is a mother to a certain young boy and girl, who loves her because of her patience, her diligence, her being an understanding person, and most of all, her love for all children which seems to flow unceasingly. She is also a mother to more than ten other children who have learned to call her, “Teacher.”
She is a teacher. She is one of those responsible for molding the children into the best people they can possibly be. She is the one they run too, their heads held high, when they get perfect scores in their quizzes. She is the one they complain too when there is too much work to be done, and too little time to rest. She is the one who shows them that the future rests in their small, but strong, capable hands.
And last but not the least, she is a woman.
She is a woman. She is one who grieves with those whose loved ones must leave, to cross from this life to the next. She is there to comfort the relatives who are left behind in their sadness. She is often heard telling the desperate man who just lost his wife, “She will be safe, do not worry.” Or the mother, suffering greatly because she just lost her son, “God will take him in His arms, and take care of him. Your son will be ok.”
She is a woman who cares deeply for her country. When blasphemies about her dear Motherland are spread, she does everything in her power to revert that which has been said, into words pleasant to hear; words that speak of the greatness of the Philippines. She is there for her community when they need her. She is generous, and will not hesitate to give her gifts to the poor and the needy. She loves the weak, the frail, and the sick. She helps the sick old man get up, and nurses him back to health. She cares for the frail woman whose voice has been reduced to whispers and makes her feel loved and wanted. She loves those just like her; other women as well. And she empowers them. She teaches them, guides them, and leads them. She is never afraid to stand up for mothers, sisters, and daughters like herself. She is a Filipina true to her heritage.
She is a daughter. She is a wife. She is a mother. She is a teacher. She is a woman. She is a Filipina.
She is a mother; my mother.
This piece is finished.
For I never thought I would be able to write of her again. I never thought I would be able to rewrite that piece that centered on her, in the hopes of honoring her even more. And yet, here I am once again about to put an end to this piece with her name. Just like before, I will end this piece with her name that speaks of her essence, her vitality, and her life.
She is my mother.
And her name is Arlene.
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