I took a flight to Asia and the Philippines. I went to my father’s headquarters here because I understand why he has a branch here now.
Because of mother.
And his mysterious business trips here.
Everything made sense now.
I arrived in Mindanao and in Davao City where his headquarters was located.
My phone rang and I suddenly got a text from an unknown number.
“Care for the Elderly Foundation.”
Written below was the complete address and I didn’t have to guess who sent it.
It was the father. Of course, his company is a whole hacker system, how else would he know my number?
But I’m a bit thankful as I won’t have to knock on every foundation in the city.
“Are you here for good, ma'am?” Asked the taxi driver as he took me to the address I said to him.
I shook my head, not in the mood to talk to strangers.
“Well, welcome to the Philippines ma'am! You made the correct choice to have a vacation with. In this city, you will love it here! We have many tourist attractions.”
I just offered a polite smile as the taxi driver was welcoming me. He even made sure I was at the right address and offered me places to visit.
I appreciate his kindness so I just smiled and went inside the foundation.
I noticed that they speak Tagalog, English, and Bisaya….I think my mom too…I hope I could talk to and understand her.
I could see nuns, maids, and different people inside. I went to the counter.
“Are you here for a visit?” Asked the old woman from the counter.
“Uhm…yes..”
“What’s the name?”
“I’m Saphira Ziara Bernadez Uy. I think I have a mother here…”
The woman blinked, carefully analyzing my face as if she remembers me. “Oh, I know you. You’re in the picture of one of our patients here.”
I paused, feeling a bit awkward. She made me sign the visitation form and then made them follow her inside.
There were lots of rooms and old women confined here. Some were busy crocheting, some taking a breather outside the garden, and the woman stopped inside a room.
She knocked on the door and opened it to reveal an old woman crocheting
“Hello, Bridget!”
She jumped in shock, “Ay ginoo ko! Kinsa ka?” (Oh my god, who are you?”
I stood behind the old woman to cover myself, nervous about meeting my mother.
I was not expecting to see her here in care for the elderly…but then again, I had always thought that Sofia’s mother was my mom or died at some point…when’s all alive here.
“Awe, I am Mariel, nakalimtan mo agad, Bridget?” (Awe, I an Mariel, did you already forget about me, Bridget?)
“Unsa man nag ginacrochet mo?” (what is it you’re crocheting?)
My mother answered, “Laruan ni Lizzy ba. Para may damit ang kanyang mga manika.” (For Lizzy’s toy. So her barbie dolls would have some clothes on.)
Her gaze shifted to me for a few minutes and her eyes widened as if something clicked, “..Lizzy? Dako kana!” (Lizzy? You’re all grown up!)
I turned to the woman, “Why is she calling me Lizzy?” I asked.
“Her daughter is named Lizzy…the one who…died…so I’m guessing you are the older one?”
I nodded.
“What’s my mother’s case? Why is she here?”
“Mr. Uy, I am guessing your father? He took her here when your mother started to have dementia.”
I gasped. Dementia? No way.
My mother, who I came here instantly to ask for answers, has a disease called Dementia.
How could I get answers from her now?
And although she abandoned us, she’s still my mother. I felt a bit bad for her.
“Please take things slowly, if you want to say something to her. Based on her stories, she hated you…so pretend to be Lizzy for now. She only remembers the past when you were kids.” She advised me and then asked, “Are you fine here if I leave you? I have to go take care of the other patients.”
“I am good. Thank you.”
I watched as my mother hugged me, mistaking me for my dead sister. We might have looked alike…
I glanced at the pictures ok the wall. Pictures of me just last year were taken at the Paris.
Did my father send these to her?
As I watched her, I could feel a lump in my throat forming.
“Where is my husband? He’s always busy.” She pouted childishly, “Lizzy, call your father, will you?”
“Mom…” I gulped. I kneeled so that we were at the same eye level. “Do you remember me?”
Her eyes softened as her hand dropped from crocheting.
“Lizzy. You are Lizzy.” She answered. “Did you just come back from school? Want me to cook for you? Do you want empanada, cassava cake?”
I just listened to her as she rambled about the past. Perhaps I could learn a thing or two about my past and start to remember also. Because I still don’t know what happened to Lizzy.
I instantly hugged her and she was just sitting there, confused.
“Lizzy? Why are you crying? Did your father scold you again?” Mother said, and hearing her voice now feels heart-wrenching and nostalgic, which makes my head ache from remembering any memories.
I can't imagine myself getting through that pain. Losing my sister, and being hated by my mother. I was so young….
Am I that lovable?
Am I not enough for any of their affection?
I felt jealous because my mother hated me. Why was I the one who got to live when her favorite daughter died?
Is my purpose always being discarded?
“Hush, now child. Mommy is here.” She said, softly comforting me with her soothing voice as she patted my hair.
This only made me cry harder.
“Why did you hate Saphira, Mom?” I asked in between my sobs.
Her expression instantly changed. “She made you that way. She made you ill.”
I stopped.
I am the villain in my mother’s eyes. I remembered it now. I was the one responsible for Lizzy. She had stage four cancer.
And for Mom, it was my fault. For not taking care of my sister...
I cried, “You’re the only thing I have Mom. Why don’t you try giving Saphira a chance?”
She paused, “Are you…Saphira?”
I nodded, and she growled, pushing me away. Her eyes hold contempt and pure anger toward me.
“Stay away from me and Lizzy! You and your father! Leave us!”
I sighed, watching her throw a tantrum as nurses came rushing in.
Being hated is not new now.
I smiled sadly, “I’ll fix this Mom. We’ll be okay soon."