Moving On: The Classroom

One.. Two.. Three... Four...

It was the fourth drop of tear from my eyes that I tried even harder to stop the tears. I didn't want anybody to see. I didn't want anybody's sympathy.

But I couldn't stop crying... Crying silently... Yet each drop of tear felt like I was screaming...

Mr. Ungriano's story about a girl who lost her mother to cancer opened up the feelings that I've been keeping inside. Although our circumstances might not be completely the same, the more important aspects of our stories are - our mothers, the cancer, the secrecy, death and the excruciating pain.

I wanted to rush out of that classroom and cry my heart out. All the memories, the things that I wish I could have done for her while she was still here and the wonderful moments we would never share just came rushing into my head.

It is not easy to handle the death of a person who was there every step of the way to cheer you on, a person who understood you the best, a person who nearly died giving birth to you, a person who wanted the very best for you, a person who unconditionally loved you like no other does and will ever do, and a person you had hoped to give the same level of happiness as she did for you.

Unfortunately, that chance is gone. No more birthdays to celebrate together, no Christmases with her delicious cooking, no graduation with her clapping, no wedding with her wise words and no more days with somebody to tell your deepest darkest secrets (the type that you can't even tell your friends).

Perhaps at this point, you might be wondering why I am telling this story despite my statement earlier of not wanting sympathy. That hasn't changed. I am merely saying this because I can't do anything else but think of her. This is the only way I know that will help me overcome the sadness of not having her around and the loneliness of knowing there will be no other like my mother.

Pathetic it maybe to you of how it seems that I'm a mama's girl. But believe me I never was, atleast I thought I wasn't. I guess, the little moments that seemed unimportant to me before are now accentuated because it is no longer the same.

Yes, I'd probably get used to it because what else is there to do but move on. If I continue to dwell in the past, it will ruin me and the wonderful future that my mother had helped to build for me.

But, I will always look back... Because by looking back, I'm more motivated to move forward. I might not have realized this when I was in Sir Ungriano's class but I do now. My mother wanted me to be there in that classroom - to listen to lectures, to participate in discussions, to learn from learned people. By being present in that classroom perhaps I could move on.