sweet surrender

i.

My mom and I had an argument Friday morning over Percy Jackson.

After breakfast, I noticed a tattered Titan's Curse inside my brother's bag. While feeling sorry for the book, it suddenly dawned on me to check my stack for my own copy. I raced upstairs and upon rummaging through my pile, I realized that I couldn't find mine. The worn out copy in my brother's bag, the one with slightly folded cover and torn edges, was indeed mine. As I'm still not on speaking terms with my dearest brother, my mom ended up being on the receiving end of my annoyance.

It came to the point when I said, "Don't bother! I'm just going to buy a new one" which triggered a litany from my mom.

"Ganyan kasi kayong lumaking magkapatid," she said referring to the point that I, more often than not, refuse to let my brother use any of my stuff.

I was halfway out the door but I just couldn’t stop myself. I turned around and said, "Ganyan niyo kasi ako pinalaki di ba? Maingat sa gamit. Masinop. Tingnan niyo nga yung mga gamit ko nung bata pa ko, andiyan pa lahat. Eh yung mga dumaan sa kamay niya, asan? Wala na di ba? Nasira na niya lahat."

Then I walked out eager to get away from the mess, oblivious that I'll be in a bigger one before the day ends.

ii.

It was a hot Saturday afternoon. I was in my room, half-asleep on my bed lulled by the droning sound of the television. It was airing a local celebrity talk show that I never really paid attention to as I was keen on getting some shut eye. But it was so hot that my attempt to sleep proved futile. Instead, I turned towards the show and there was Toni Rose Gayda expressing her sentiments about the recent demise of her 27-year-old son.

"Sabi ko nga, sa Panginoon, nagpapasalamat ako na pinahiram niya si James sa akin ng 27 years. Thank you, thank you for the wonderful blessing," she said.

Her words struck a chord in me. Surely, there's nothing more heartbreaking for a mother to bury her own son. That's just not the way it should be. But there she was, speaking before the entire populace, handling the entire situation with utmost grace and composure; it was astounding for a woman who just lost a son of 27 years.

It was an eye opener. Shame on me if I can't show the same kind of bravery and acceptance on my own misfortunes.

iii.

Regardless of the precept that everything we've been bestowed with and everyone that we've been blessed to have should be well taken care of and valued, there come times, in the context of life, that we should learn to let go.

Rather than fight life and its inevitable changes, I should accept that there are variables that are beyond my control. I should be at peace with "what is".

So let me be like the mother to her son.

Let me let go - of that battered book that my brother borrowed without my permission, or those Lego blocks that he lost when he was younger, or generally how he was raised differently by my folks.

Let me let go of all the losses and hurt, and not the people behind it - people whom I have birthed good memories with, people who, in some way, became lessons that I needed to learn - for this surrender is not tantamount to abandonment.

Let me be brave enough to do this; true freedom only comes when you learn to let go.

After all, there's nothing left to try but yearn for my liberty.