Because it's so hot these days, I like sleeping with the door open so there will be better circulation.
So I hear my mother get out of bed. "She's probably going to the bathroom," I thought nothing more to it. But then nope, I didn't hear the bathroom door open.
What I heard instead, was praying.
Um...what?
Alas, behold! My beloved mother, waking up secretly in the middle of the night and praying for my father and me (Momma Peng is religious, but not crazy religious). A rush of emotions engulfed me at this point. How long did she secretly do this for? And why didn't she let us know?
Now I've never met a person who dedicates herself more to her family than my mother. No matter what happens, she puts us before herself. Growing up, there were occasions where I have seen the unhappiness in her eyes when she works hard for the family, where she often sacrifices her joys and desires for ours, and we barely grunt a thank you (though we appreciate it with all our hearts).
I remember a few years ago, she had a major surgery. When she came out, the sight of her frailness and paleness is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I realize at that point my mother is no longer the youthful energetic woman I always thought she would be. For some strange logic, I never thought my mother would never age. I always thought she was the perfect embodiment of life, so full of happiness and laughter.
But even then, within a day of coming home from the hospital, she was up and running the house again, but every move she made hurt me, for it showed she was still in pain from not properly recovering and resting.
Don't get me wrong, my father and I are not pigs. We took care of her, and we took care of ourselves and made sure everything that needed to be done around the house was done so she need not worry.
But the fact is, no matter how tired she is and no matter how sick she may be, she still pours every ounce of energy she has to make sure that our lives are easier, and that we are well fed, safe, and most importantly: happy.
She is truly, truly the strongest soldier, and the most selfless person I know.
She is the heart and soul of my father and me, the CPU of our family.
Now, let's skip the mumble jumble details of my thoughts.
I realize at this point I was angry at myself.
If I am able to treat everybody around me kindly, why is it that sometimes, I still fail to think about my own mother? To put her before myself and make her life easier like the way she makes mine?
I really let myself down. And I definitely am not as perfect a daughter as I, or other people may have imagined.
Knowing her prayers will always keep me happy and safe is the greatest feeling in the world.
After rethinking it all, I am so grateful to wake up from this earlier than I expected.
I realize everything I can offer people is a shadow compared to how much Momma Peng can offer people. And I only dream that I will be as amazing as she is later on in my life.
And for that, I will conclude this absurdly long, ultra "gay", mushy gushy post, and dedicate this entry to mommables.
Truth is, she will never read this post.
This post is purely for myself, to keep myself in track of what truly matters to me.
Future LP, take note of this pl0x.
It's been a pleasure.
xo
past LP
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