Manuel-Bahul: Remembering ‘our’ Nanays

LAST Saturday, the University of Baguio commemorated the 23rd death anniversary of Nanay Rosa Castillo Bautista, co-founder of UB, and wife of Tatay Fernando Bautista.

In her honor, Fr. Ian Anthony Espartero said mass where in his homily, he talked about the sacrifices Nanay Rosa made to make UB what it is today. Nanay Rosa is a petite woman. For us who never got the opportunity to meet her, we can only wonder in admiration at how she raised all seven sons while building an institution (alongside Tatay).   

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Every year that we commemorate the Founders’ death anniversaries, we dub the memorial as “Remembering Nanay” or “Remembering Tatay.” Here, I’ll say “Remembering OUR Nanays” as Fr. Espartero’s homily also spoke of mothers in general.

We all have our own Nanay Rosas in our lives and perhaps, for most of us, our mothers may be in their twilight years - they may be ill, bed-ridden, and severely lonely. What have we done to care for them?

To show how much we love them? Or how much we appreciate their efforts and sacrifices for us? Do we make excuses of being busy and conveniently pass on to others the responsibility of caring for them?

Fr. Espartero charged the crowd to show our mothers how much we love them - now, not later – for later may be a little too late.
 
Mothers, among all members of the human species, have the most unconditional love. And I will argue that to death. Growing up, I hated my mother to the bones. I thought she made my life miserable.

She would often say “You will understand me when you become a mother.” Of course, I thought that it was a totally unfair reasoning. And because mothers know best, she is right.

I am now beginning to understand her. I said “beginning to” because I can’t claim to fully grasp the complexities of motherhood as I only have one, young child. Sure, I understand the pain of giving birth, the apprehension of being responsible for another human being, the concern and anxiety of not being able to give the best to my child, and the superhuman feeling that I will die for my child. 

Still, I wonder at how mothers with more than one child cope. I admire their energy to raise and love all their children equally while standing in full devotion and support to their partners. I wonder how they can maintain the house; keep a job; be a friend and a sister; and all the other stuff they have to do to be able to fulfill all these roles without losing their original selves.

Mentally, I multiply my only child by three and I see chaos. It frightens me that I may not be able to deal with more than one child. Two weeks ago, our 6-year-old daughter wrote us a letter that says (verbatim): dear mother and father, thank you for the toys, Books, stickers and school supplies. I want to have a baby sister already. Thank you?

While I am quite impressed with how innocently expressive she is, the letter also disturbed me a in a way. Is my daughter lonely being an only child? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t only see chaos when I imagine myself with three kids. I also see happiness tripled. I would imagine Nanay Rosa being eight times happier than me. But I guess stuffs like these are not up to us.

So for the meantime, I can only try to be the best mother to my child. It’s time to return the favor to my own mother.