May 8, 2011

             Dear Mother, 

            You used to say, “Xin Chúa cho bất cứ điều gì, và Chúa cho,” Ask God for anything, and He’ll grant it to you. Well, I grew up to that; kneeling during mass, praying with clasps hands together and hoping. But I guess there’s always a point in our lives when we realize that that special little trinket we so dearly wanted wasn’t going to appear at our feet. And I turned to you once. Watching your lowered head angled toward the glorious cross. Your hair at the time was a mixture of blended autumn warmth, ranging from a violent red to a golden honeycomb. I admired how you stood out from the endless sea of obsidian hair that bobbed endlessly into it reached the occasional dyed heads. And when you looked up from her prayer, I remember once asking, “What were you praying for?” Well, your answer was sentimental. Deliberately corny, drizzled with cheese and to top it off; your average motherly touch sprinkled above.          

          You always worried as I grew up, and till this day you still do; fussing over my health, comparing my growing height with various other children and questioning if you were raising your kids right. And you are. You always thought of us first, frantically getting the family together on Sundays for church. And even with all the chaos on Sunday mornings, I didn’t mind. I tolerated going to church, because it meant much more to me than anything. I love allowing my prayers and thoughts to be sent to heaven where it would be received and answer. So thank-you for making every possible attempt for the family to experience this great spiritual belief. The church allows me to see more than what is in front of me.

          And I shower a billion appreciation and gratitude toward you who truly knows what hardships and life’s difficulties are. You provide my siblings and I so much. Starting with the roof over our heads to the shoes adorned at our feet. You’re a great mother, with flaws like any other, but if I insist you’re perfect, they wouldn’t believe it. I thank that you’re so understanding when the situation seems rash. I’m also certainly grateful that you don’t bother to question me when I hug you rather than shake your hand. I’m at peace in your arms for a moment till you move on to a neighbor to wish them the same reconciliation as well. But most importantly, I’m grateful for a mother who prays for the well-being of her family even while I selfishly thought of great riches. And that’s the lesson you taught me. You don’t pray for