A letter from August 16th, 2019

Dear FutureMe, This is another letter about mama. I'm scared that I would forget here. I'm afraid that when you read this, all you'll remember was that you had a mom and that she passed away. I'm scared that you'll forget how she smiled, and how similar you looked when you did the same. I'm scared you'll forget how she smelled - like home, the scent of motherhood that differs in each child. Because she smelled like the pillows after a good night's sleep, she smelled like a hug after a nightmare. Do you remember when you had sleep paralysis? All you wanted was for mama to know so that she'll shake you awake. You kept muttering "mama, mama, mama" because you hoped she'd wake and see you suffering. And when you got out of the paralysis, what was the first thing you did? You hugged her. Do you remember when you arrived in Japan hours earlier than they did? They arrived in the morning, and complained that they were tired and did not get an ounce of sleep. But you arrived at around midnight, and you were hungry, and you complained that you've waited so long and you wanted to eat. She was tired. Mama was tired, because she's old and the trip was long. But she volunteered. She walked all the way to the next floor with you - to the food court to eat. She wasn't even hungry. But you were, and that was why she went. She loved you that much - because sleep and rest were only second to you. Do you remember when you craved chicken wings? You asked for them for weeks, and at that point, it had been just about a month, and she had finally promised to bring you to a chicken wings restaurant after church. But after church, the family wanted to eat at a barbeque place. You went - but you were grumbling the entire time. You were so spoilt. You hardly ate and you hardly spoke and in your mind it was unfair because you've waited a month. But what did your mom do? She told you to wait until after dinner, because she'd bring you to one. You didn't have a car so you held on to her as she drove her beaten up, second-hand, motorcycle to the next town. There weren't any chicken wing places left open but she looked and didn't gave up. In the end, you got what you wanted at a rundown bar. It tasted bad. But you were so touched, weren't you? She kept her promise. Her last visit to your law school was your first week back after summer vacation. You left all your stuff back at the dorm room. She didn't have any money, so they were going to go home. But you insisted. You said you found cash in your old bag and asked if they could take you to the mall to get some stuff for the new school year. When you got to the mall, she realized that the bank was open. She took out thirty thousand pesos - some of it to pay the driver and the gasoline and the toll fee, some of it for your dorm, some of it for your allowance, and some of it to spend in the mall. You ate dumplings in King Chef, the ones with soup inside that she really liked. Then, she brought you bread to eat. She bought you clothes for the new school year because she knew your classmates also had new clothes. And just because she's her, she bought more bread for you. I'm sorry. It hurts writing this. Do you remember when she attended your Family Fun Day at school? She had work, but she went because she wanted to support you and your brother. She played the games, because she wanted you to cheer for her. She even got a sprain playing Tug-of-War. That ankle was never the same again. And she never went again. But the fact was, she went. Do you remember when you cried because your bestfriend Jude moved away? She found you crying and held you close. She told you that you never believed in yourself. But she knew what you were capable of. She knew all the potential in you. She saw all that. It's so hard going to school because when a funny or weird thing happens, all I think about is coming home to tell mama all about it. And I remember that I'll never be able to tell her anything ever again. I've been here a week and I've been crying every night. I miss her and it hurts. It hurts seeing all my classmates happy, with the knowledge that they're going to go home to a welcoming mother. It hurts because someone is going to be there to cheer for them. But I am thankful to all of my aunts and uncles. All of them have messaged and called me this week. I appreciate it so much because mama used to call every night. And it feels weird to not wait for the call any more. I'm thankful for my friends as well, for distracting me. I know they've been tryin their hardest. I'm not sure if they know I'm still hurting but at least they're there. Future Marielle, it's still so hard. I want to go home to my mom. I want to lie down on the bed and have her embrace me. I want her to tell me everything is gonna to be alright. But it isn't going to be. Not for a long time. I hope you find your peace.