Why My Mom Hated Quaker Oatmeal for the Rest of Her Life
It wasn’t because she was picky
It was Mother’s Day. I celebrated it with my sisters. Like we celebrated her birthday, Christmas day, and every special occasion that we used to spend time together except — Mom is no longer with us.
She died in 2021.
I would always tell myself that Mom died a beautiful death. It was. There were no words left unsaid. She told us she loved us. She died at home, surrounded by us.
I was awake when she finally said goodbye.
She didn’t die in the hospital or from COVID-19. It was one of my many worries during the pandemic.
She was one of the millions who were vulnerable. She was a dialysis patient for seven years. And when the pandemic hit us in 2020, Mom was already at the end of her journey.
She was no longer the feisty woman I had known all my life, the woman whom I call “Nanay,” which means mom in Filipino.
And when the world shut down, her world had become even smaller.
She could only go out for her dialysis treatments. And for the months that followed it was taking a toll on her and me.
By January 2021 after she fell from her bed, she decided she no longer wanted to go to the hospital.
It was a tough decision, but we had to respect her.
As always, Mom had the last word.
Mom raised six children. When my parents separated, she had to take care of all of us by herself.
I was twelve.
I have older sisters, who were able to help provide for the family. Young as they were, they found odd jobs to help Mom with the expenses.
But looking back, I knew it was hard for Mom.
She never complained.
She never did.
A bad childhood. A broken marriage.
Mom never had a break.
She never complained.
Mom was from a different generation. It would take me years before I could tell her how I feel. It would take many years before I heard her say
I love you.
I knew Mom had a hard life. She was born in 1939, she was a child during WW2, she was growing up when the country was in ruins.
And we all know the damage war can do to people.
Mom also had a dysfunctional family. Her father had two families.
And it was hell.
Something that stands out vividly about Mom was her love-hate relationship with Quaker Oatmeal.
She would cook it for us when we were kids.
But I never saw her eat it. And Mom was not a picky eater, she would eat scraps and leftovers, something I took from her.
Because she always told us, to never let a grain of rice go to waste.
It would take me many years before I asked why she never ate oatmeal.
And when she did tell me that she once loved it.
I asked her what happened.
My mom’s past had become blurry in my memory. I know there were years when she and her siblings had to live with their stepmom.
We grew up with two grandmothers. My mom’s mom and her stepmom. Both of them were Lola or Grandma in Filipino. Because later on, we all became one family.
They were poor.
But Mom wanted to finish high school, she was an A-student. Her stepmom had an idea to send Mom to live among the nuns.
And because it was in the early 50s, American presence was still all over the Philippines.
When the school that was run by the nunnery celebrated its 75th year, Mom found out about it on the radio and decided to go.
We went.
It made her happy.
It could be her way of finding closure to a time in her life.
She needed to forgive the nuns. She had to forgive herself.
The school is no longer run by American nuns. I don’t think it is still a halfway house for unwed mothers as it was during the years mom was there to finish high school.
If Mom stayed with the nuns, she could have been — a nun, an American, or both.
She told me that the American nun who was in charge took a liking to her, and promised to bring her to America.
But life had other plans, she was to become our mother.
Mom didn’t share much about her time at the nunnery, except for the fact that she learned a lot from the nuns.
As it was when the Americans took over the Spaniards in the 1900s, they brought to the Philippines the American public school system, and that is one of the reasons why English had become our second language.
I found out later that Mom graduated as class valedictorian.
Living with the nuns wasn’t easy. They were strict. And I guess when you are given free board and lodging, you have to do every form of housework imaginable like ironing the nun’s habit.
And that is why when Mom ironed our clothes it was always perfect.
She never complained.
Later on, she was assigned to the kitchen, when Mom told me stories it was never to disparage anyone’s reputation, she told it as it happened.
She mentioned how the nuns would have the best food.
But being one of the “favorites” she got to have the choice of leftovers, that is why Mom learned how to eat steaks and lamb chops.
There were fruits that Mom had never tasted before like blueberries and there were apple and pecan pies.
One thing Americans didn’t eat for breakfast was rice, instead, they were served Quaker Oats.
And when you eat it every day, I guess Mom had enough by the time she walked out the four walls of what she thought then was her prison.
Mom left the convent and the school after she graduated.
She never told me why. She could have been sent to America after she finished high school. And being a valedictorian, she could easily have secured the best education in America or she could have ended up being a nun.
But she was the eldest of the brood.
She had a younger sister, whom she loved like no other.
She never told me this, but I knew she could never leave her behind.
She sacrificed her dreams and future for her family.
As she did for us.
Yesterday, while I was having lunch with my sisters, I looked at all of us and I saw in all of us a part of Mom.
She may no longer be with us, but I want her to know that she did great in raising us.
She loved us, and we love her.
I can’t wait until the day we meet again.
Happy Mother’s Day, Nanay. Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms.
Thank you for reading.