09/05/2026
My mother was only 39 when she became a widow. Five children were left in her care. The eldest was 10. The youngest was 4.
She was a simple school teacher in Butuan City. Life suddenly became very hard. But there was one thing she never compromised. Our education.
Many advised her to transfer us to a public school. Tuition in our private Catholic school was expensive for a widow raising five children alone.
But my mother quietly made a decision. She would do everything she could to keep us there and give us the best education she could afford.
And she walked that talk every single day.
At home, each of us had assigned chores. But during major exams, she suspended all household responsibilities. She did everything herself so we could focus on studying. Even when we insisted on helping, she refused.
To augment her income, she worked endlessly. She occasionally taught night classes in another school. During the rice shortage in the seventies, we became an authorized rice retailer of the National Grains Authority. At night, we printed school shirts by hand. She personally sewed bloomers for the girlsโ PE uniforms at night and weekendโs. We made sandwiches and siopao to sell in the school canteen.
There was no drama. No complaints. Only sacrifice, discipline, and love quietly expressed through action.
One by one, her children finished school. My eldest sister entered UST, my motherโs alma mater. My brother earned a full scholarship to UP Diliman. I followed with a full scholarship to UPLB. My fourth sibling also graduated from UST and became an accountant. Our youngest became a dentist.
The year our youngest graduated was also the year my mother retired at 60.
Looking back now, I realize my mother spent the best years of her life building ours first before her own. She rarely bought anything for herself. Everything she had, she poured into her children.
Our greatest motivation to succeed was simple. We wanted to make our mother happy and proud.
And she was. She lived a full and meaningful life until 88 years old.
This Motherโs Day, I remember not only my mother, but all mothers who quietly carry burdens their children may never fully understand.
The ones who sacrifice in silence. Work without applause. Give without keeping score. And carry the family even when no one sees how heavy the load is.
Many of us stand where we are today because somewhere in our story, there was a mother who chose sacrifice over self.
Happy Motherโs Day to all mothers. You are the first heroes many of us will ever know.
And long after we have grown, achieved, and built lives of our own, we remain children standing on the strength of the mother who carried us first.
