Jhayrolin Cruz Brigham poses with his mom, Thess Lambino.
The scent of olive oil and freshly fried Tortang Talong would gradually fill our home shortly after six o’clock, a reminder that my mother, without fail, would tirelessly cook and provide for our family.
Despite being the breadwinner of our family, she works around the clock looking after me and my two siblings. Our home would be filled with laughter and love, as she was the pride and joy of our family, and the one person I could turn to when bullied by my older brother.
Still, in the summer of 2019, and before I entered fifth grade, my mom fell victim to stroke. I remember waking up seeing my dad and older sister desperately carry her to the car where they sped off to the hospital as she struggled to breathe. Within the next few weeks I lost my mother to what felt like forever. Coupled with her crippling diagnosis of having a stroke, her CW-1 visa was revoked, meaning that she was forced to return to the Philippines to comply with her visa and for our family’s much needed desire for cheaper healthcare.
As a result she had to leave. What I had believed would be a few months turned into my mom being gone for nearly five years as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic. Realizing this, I felt trapped, robbed, and heartbroken which I imagined was the same thing my mom felt at the time.
Yet after nearly five agonizing years filled with doubt, resentment, and uncertainty, my family was able to finance her journey back home. Upon her arrival, I saw a woman who I felt was a stranger. My mom was absent during the most transformative years of my childhood. I was at a loss for words and didn’t know what to say or feel. However, when she lunged towards me and held me in her arms, I felt a strange feeling of familiarity, and tears began to well up in my eyes.
From then on, the time we spent would be marked with reconciling and rebuilding the home she had lost and love she missed out on. My mom steadily began to adjust to the home she had lost for nearly a decade, transforming the place I considered hell into a home once more.
Consequently, I grew a newly found sense of love and responsibility to spend as much time with my mom as possible. In doing so, she has inspired me to learn how to cook the very meals that would adorn our kitchen table and create the same fragrances that would fill our home.
No matter what happened in the past, reclaiming our lost time together is something my mom and I deeply cherish. And as Mother’s Day grows closer with each passing day, my mom’s story is a testament to her unwavering commitment to her family and my love for her. Mahal kita, mommy!
