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Operation Blues

An accidental and early mother's day homage

By Yvounne BermudoPublished about a month ago 3 min read
Operation Blues
Photo by Susan G. Komen 3-Day on Unsplash

Dedicated to you, who I will address as 'you' in the entirety of this message as you know who you are. The most important person in my life. The source of my unyielding attitude towards every binding situation I find myself in—situations happening in great volumes.

You, the careful soul who unwittingly birthed mischief's twin yet finds solace in the chaos it brings. Nothing beats the satisfaction of your pleased smile and approval. My world revolves around the simple fact that you brought me into being and you're keeping me here.

As I try to shake off the anxiety about your impending surgery, I find myself thinking about all our memories together. My earliest recollection of meeting you for the first time being me banging my head against the wall while you're doing the laundry impervious to my childish antics. My head started bleeding and you rushed to me with your soapy hands and worried face.

I'm typing this as I feel the early onset of distress caused by the operation. My fears since I was a child materializing at this very moment, the days and weeks after. I'd hate for the world to take you from me and you know it.

For two decades, I've been a stumbling block in your path, a truth only now dawning on me. As a woman striving for her own career in today's world, I'm beginning to grasp the immense value of your decision to bring me into this world.

You could have been more but my relentless need to keep you close has hindered your own aspirations. I did not clip your wings, I was the glue that rendered you stuck in a place that kills dreams. And it will forever crush me to know that you mindfully stayed in place and chose to be stuck out of love.

But I digress. In a matter of weeks, you will be lying on a table in a cold room without even feeling the removal of your affliction, and I'll be waiting on the other side of the wall that physically separates us.

I hope I have been with you every step of the way just as you were when I was younger. As I grow older and my bones more tender, the gulf between us narrows by the minute. I find myself tracing your footsteps, understanding your decisions as if they were my own.

The sudden trip down memory lane caught me off guard and I find myself dissociating in the middle of writing this piece. We had plenty of happy moments yet what could have stayed as happy core memories of childhood and time with you became ugly reminders of fleeting happiness. How it's easily given, easily taken; whereas sadness lingers.

It's gnawing on me. Hoping feels futile with the amount of times I disappointed myself. The mere idea of losing you filling me with an overwhelming sense of fear, because without you, I'm just an empty vessel, devoid of purpose.

We never made promises, for none were needed. Your word was unshakeable, your resolve unwavering. And even if you couldn't be true to your word, I harbored no resentment, understanding the sheer impossibility of it all. You're the type of woman who always finds a way when there's a will and everybody knows you for your might.

I take comfort in your reliability, knowing that even in your weakest moments, you are stronger than most. You will make it.

As I sit in front of the operating room waiting for you, I will be the kid that held her breath, careful not to let the stench of the fish market in, and counted to five a million times waiting for you to come back.


About the Creator

Yvounne Bermudo

Yvounne Bermudo is a fourth-year journalism student at Polytechnic University of the Philippines.

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