I guess that explains my broody and moody quietitude all the time in my youth. My mom has affected me to a very large extent. Her emotional grip on me has it coursing through my every vein - the deep well of emotions, love and hate. That was why I have to run away from it.
As she recounts all her stories of sufferings, I took it on as a part of me - so much so that I could feel all her sorrows, pains and angst. She must have been my singular most inluential factor.
She was a pious woman. I remember her attendance in church is always marked by the black veil she wears over her head. Her only comfort is the rosary she holds between her fingers whenever she meditates and prays. Never mind, how we were scorned at at some time in our lives where she was refused milk for me by the church. I think this was a turning point for me that I revolted against my religion. To me it was striking hypocriticism and lip service. The congregation and the practising religious people I see.
To a young person, that fair play and justice is crucial if you ever want to win trust and support.
That explains why acts of injustice and affront to the poor, the weak and the oppressed are not particularly something which I can swallow very well.
As I said before, I wept when I read about Jesus. I can only compare his sufferings to that of my mother and father. Jesus had died for the sake of his sorrowful passion. The every whip he took and crown of thorn that cuts deep into his human flesh must have hurt him so badly.
I pray too for my deaf and mute sister who must be suffering in her solitude of being in a dark world. I cannot imagine how she is going to live out her old age. I pray for my sister who suffered through her acrimonous divorce - the pain and abuse she suffered.
O Sweet Jesus. My mother has prayed to you consistently for your intercession and that of Mother Mary. Please keep both of them safe in heaven.
I must try to make lives better for them all.
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