The Most Important Lesson My Mom Ever Taught Me
- Melissa Montenegro
- 3 days ago
- 3 min read
Today marks 40 days after my mom's passing. The 40 days tradition is something I've heard about but never fully understood. I had to do a little research to learn it's a time of prayer for the soul of the dead and for offering thanks to the family and friends who have extended their condolences during the time of mourning.
Although I'm not in the Philippines to celebrate my mom's 40 days with family, I am spending some time remembering and praying for her. Over the past couple of weeks, people have shared their favorite memories of her, and whether it was caring for kids, cooking for anyone who happened to stop by, or sitting with someone who needed a shoulder to cry on, I feel her life can be summed up with one lesson that I hope stays with me and those who knew her. That lesson is that your life is not your own.
My siblings and I have shared the many sacrifices that she and my dad made so we could have everything we needed. We were never wealthy, but I also never felt like I was in need. I can recall many times (even as an adult) when I was unwilling or reluctant to share, and she would always show me how important it is to be generous. ("Sharing is caring!") She would cut fruit, peel shrimp, and make mountains of rice for me because she knew I would be more likely to eat it that way. She took care of me whenever I was sick, rubbing Vicks on my back to make the cold or the cough go away. She taught me how to pray, writing prayers on the backs of whatever paper happened to be nearby. And she cooked. She cooked for those who said they weren't hungry - or rather those who didn't know they were hungry until a plate of pansit or a warm enseymade was placed in front of them.
My mom was an educator, and having been in front of groups of teenagers I know that trying to teach them is no easy feat. It requires a lot of patience. It requires preparation. And most importantly, it requries the passionate belief that what you're doing won't be appreciated in the moment. I've been fortunate enough to see some of the seeds I've planted blossom, and my mom had that gift, too. Back in December 2022, I had the opportunity to visit my parents while they were still relatively well. I would walk to church for Simbang Gabi with my mom, and after the Mass was over people would introduce themselves. One of them would cheerfully say that my mom was her grade school teacher and she was her favorite student. She would recall that my mom wrote in her report cards, "She is very bright, but she talks a lot." Their kinship inspired me to treat the teens in my youth group in such a way that they would always feel loved and proclaim, "I'm Miss Melissa's favorite."
My mom suffered from the stroke, but the more I think about her life and the more I experience deep relationships with people, the more I realize she suffered throughout her life. She was an immigrant; she was a mother; she was a teacher; she was a wife; she was a daughter and a sister. She was a loving tita and lola. She would have given anything to and for the people she loved...and for people she didn't even know. It's a hard lesson that I'm still trying to learn, but even our suffering isn't about us. I'm learning more and more every day that my mom's heart ached for the people she loved, for the times when she made sacrifices or when she wanted to love us more than she physically could. She gave everything.
I'm sure I'll have days when I'm rolling lumpia or listening to someone who has a story to tell and I'll think about my mom. Maybe my heart will sting when I'm in a garden admiring a flower that she would have loved or when I crack open a crab and pull out a chunk of meat. But whatever it is, I hope I can be a little more like my mom when I have these encounters and want to share them with someone else because in doing so, I feel I'll emulate the best part of her, the part that was never just her own.
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