He was reading a letter when his focus turned blurry. The sounds around him became imperceptible, his feet seeming to be above the floor. His eyelids getting heavy, he let out a slow exhale as they closed.

The horizon was clear when he opened his eyes; no island was in sight. A low-lying, lazy mist veiled the surface of the serene, blue-green sea as his eyes followed a glide of flying fish making mini wakes on its early morning flight.

He was calm, breathing in the cool, salty air – a striking contrast to the restlessness he felt on the first night of his trip. He tossed and turned in his uncomfortable cot, reimagining what triggered the trip.

“Mamang, I have to go!” he pleaded. “The internship has already started and sister in California said that she didn’t have the funds to cover my plane ticket.”

“Sorry, son. We don’t have the money.”

“Papa and you knew all along that I was getting ready to leave for the United States and you were not prepared for it?”

All was silent. He grabbed hold of his 8×10 graduation picture and tore it into small pieces. He wasn’t sure how he made it through the night. He hastened to the city’s business district the following morning.

“How much for this watch?” he asked, handing over the graduation gift.

“Oh…,” the pawn broker mentioned some amount.

“Okay. Thank you,” he replied as he pocketed the bills. He doubled his pace to the nearby pier to catch a 2-day boat trip for the big city up north. He just wanted to escape, unsure whether it was to punish his parents or to face his future on his own.

“Why are you here? What happened?” his sister asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied, shaking his head.

His sister being at work, he was left alone to mope in her apartment for days. He wondered what to do in a big city with a high unemployment rate, thousands of well-educated graduates vying for a few available professional positions. As he continued to ponder on his future, there was a heavy rapping on the apartment door.

“I was thoroughly upset when I learned that you left,” cried his mother. “I was able to get some money, prompting me to catch the next boat trip!”

“Oh, thank you, Mamang!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide and mouth agape, their hearts pounding in their embrace.

The surprise brightened everyone’s spirit, especially his. The following days bustled with getting a passport and completing travel arrangements. Zeroing in on his mother’s somewhat anguished smile, he waved final goodbyes as he boarded the plane. He completed his one-year internship training and was hired as a full-time medical technologist. He became a permanent resident and eventually a naturalized citizen. All the while, he and his mother never failed to exchange monthly letters – he sending money and his mom acknowledging the receipt.

“My Dear Toto” always started her letters, her “Your Beloved Mamang” ending them. “Toto” also started subsequent topics, appearing as often as there were paragraphs. Her English was perfect and her penmanship was envied by others.

“I am in good health to handle the long flight,” she never failed to underscore, along with the importance of seeing him again and the snow – in that order!

The tone of the letters changed over the oncoming years. Complaints and problems about family; requests for more money; issues about the house he was building for her; and the nagging about her US trip slowly replaced the warmth of the exchanges. Nonetheless, he continued to send money, initially with a mild rebuke and eventually with just a short note. Somehow, visions of and feelings for his native country, particularly his mother, slowly disappeared as he acquainted himself with his new home, the physical distance enhancing the disassociation. Communications stopped when he moved to a new address.

It was on an insignificant day when an overseas letter landed in his mailbox.

“What could it be about?” he thought, wondering who the sender was. He fast read through several paragraphs until his eyes became transfixed on 3 words – “Mamang passed away.”

Blood drained from his face, his chest sank, and his legs turned wobbly. He fell on his knees. His drying eyes from a lengthy blank stare now filling with tears. The whimper turned into a moan. Then as he wailed, visions overcame him – his running to his mother when scared and his holding her hand when tagging along to the market as a little boy, how she cared for him when he was sick, how she proudly saw him graduate with honors in the Elementary and High School, how she beamed with pride when she put a cum laude medal around his neck at the University graduation ceremony. Her crying at the doorstep about finding money for his US trip and her fingers running on his face at the airport as if to imprint it for memory topping off the vivid recollections.

He cried his eyes out. He was spent.

The days that followed were filled with guilt and remorse. Resolved in facing his demons, he endured the long flight to visit his native country. Stopping first to perhaps feel his mother’s presence at the now crumbling house that he built for her, he then walked to the cemetery – his gait uneven, his breathing hurried, and his mind clouding with thoughts. He froze at the first sight of his mother’s grave.

“I love you, Mamang,” the words vibrating in his vocal cords, his hand shaking as he lit the candle. “I am sorry that I abandoned you.”

A peripheral movement caught his eye – the gentle snow that his mother would have liked to see. Blinking back his tears, he proceeded to reposition his trifocals to finish rereading her now yellowed, brittle letter. With great care, he folded and placed it right next to his graduation gift watch. The pull at the heartstrings was strong as ever as he closed his box of memorabilia.

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*Mamang = endearing word for mother.