Sixteen (16) years ago, on April 28, 1992, my Mama breathed her last. I could never forget that fateful day. How could I? It was the coldest day of my life. I left the house that morning waving to Mama and telling her that in two days, it'd be pay day, and I could finally get her Fried Chicken (her favorite food). I stood by the door and waved at her, not sure if she could still understand what I was telling her. She had grown so frail -- virtually skin-and-bones -- and could no longer speak. There were times when I wasn't even sure if she still recognized me. Maybe she did, but she simply couldn't give a voice to how she was feeling because her speech was already badly impaired by then.

What could be more painful for a daughter than to see her own mother suffer, agonize in pain, and slowly die from an incurable disease? My Mama was diagnosed with ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis) or "Lou Gehrig's Disease". I was only 14 years old then. I couldn't even understand what it was all about, or what was happening. All I knew was that my Mama suddenly started to feel muscle weakness especially in the arms, hand, and legs. The woman who carried me in her womb for 7 months (yes, I was a premature baby) had difficulty walking all of a sudden. At first, she could still walk with someone helping her, but as the disease progressed, she had to use a wheelchair and that was where she spent the last  8 years of her life.

So, it all began with muscle weakness, but as time passed, Mama's speech became affected (slurred) and her fingers had gotten so stiff she couldn't dress nor feed herself anymore. My Uncle Boboy (my Mom's younger brother who lived with us) took care of my Mama when I was at school but he made sure that I  did my part on Sundays or during my OFF DAYS from internship duties. Bathing Mama and dressing her weren't difficult tasks at all as much as it wasn't that hard for me to don surgical gloves just to help her have a BM. What I found most difficult and so painful was feeding her --- because my hands would shake everytime I brought the spoon to her mouth. My hands shook because I felt like breaking into a million pieces at the sight of her suffering so much. It was just too much for me to take. I even swore then that maybe if I became a doctor, I would try to erase ALS from the face of the earth so no one else would suffer from it ever again.

On the morning of April 28, 1992, I stood at the door waving goodbye to Mama. An hour later, when my Papa and his sister showed up at the Polyclinic  Lab where I was working as a substitute for a Med Tech, I only had to take one look at their faces to know that Mama was gone. The tears I had been trying to hold back for so many years finally fell that day and I never even cared if others saw me cry. I thought that I had done such a good job of hiding my pain for years and that I had prepared myself well for Mama's eventual death. But, I was wrong. I guess, no amount of preparation can really protect anyone from pain when it finally comes.

I felt robbed of the chance to fully bask in and get to know a Mother's love. I wanted to ask God WHY? But, I didn't when I realized that God finally took my Mama home to where she would suffer no more. I took comfort in that. Just as I take comfort in knowing that even now, I know in my heart that somehow, Mama is still watching over me.

I still miss you, Mama....