January 11, 2011
A comic lives in our house. That comic is my mom. She would
sport her sanguine-phlegmatic self, greeting me “hello” in all gaiety. She
would inadvertently make us laugh when she uses words from her self-authored
dictionary. She mistakes a whale shark with a local pawnshop. She would mix up a book title with a type of
flour. She sings misheard lyrics with all conviction, complete with some
vibrato. She would theatrically tell stories with hand gestures and facial expressions.
She could “host” casual conversations with my friends. She would end up knowing
more about my friends, whom I have known longer, after their chit-chat. Her antics
make our family drop to our knees laughing. Only she does it best. Maybe it’s
just our shallow sense of humor. But maybe she is really funny after all.
More than the usual laughs and theatrical conversations, her
cool self propped us up during trials. With her positive disposition, she seeks
to find solutions rather than stare down at problems. She would not curl up and
die in some murky mire but try to create action plans to augment the situation.
She gives the benefit of the doubt and translates negativities into acts of
kindness and generosity.
When my father was diagnosed with brain tumor and the doctor
had to open up his head three times, I saw how brave mom was. I didn't see her
hysterical in the ICU. Instead, I saw her praying. She was crying and shaking,
but she was praying. In that gruesome moment, she chose to do something that
she finds in her heart as the solution. When Dad was hallucinating after the
operation, she did not mind staying up the whole night, just to hold Dad’s hand
and stop him from removing all the tubes and IVs. What was left of her positive
self never bogged down during what I regard as our family’s toughest moment. We
took baby steps into three operations, practically living in the hospital for
weeks and paying a handsome hospital bill. She held onto what was left of her
positive aura and her faith in God. Seeing her brave made me stronger. We didn't have too many reasons to laugh about that time but seeing her strong made my
heart proud and glad. Months after, dad miraculously recovered. Looking back,
mom’s nature helped me win my personal battles, a day at a time.
Yes, my mother still makes me laugh. I will perpetually be grateful
that I was delivered in this world by a mother with a good sense of humor. But
more than that, I am grateful of her strength and her positive outlook in life.
Because of her, I have learned to view more half-full glasses rather than
half-empty ones. She taught me that the cliché “happiness is a choice” is true.
She taught me that happiness is not dependent on the number of digits printed
in one’s bank book. She taught be the value of being proactive rather than be
reactive and blame the whole world of our woes.
Yes, my mother makes me laugh. More than that, her positivity
makes my heart glad.
