It’s Mother’s Day Eve. This is the time of the year when I look back to remember the woman who shaped me to be the person I am now. Although she’s no longer here to give me comfort, her spiritual presence awakens my being just with the simple thought of her. Her influence was a big factor on a lot of things that I did growing up.

When I was in grade school, I worked on being a diligent student so I could always make it to the top 10 list of the class. After every semester, we would have a school function when the “Top 10” students got to go up on the stage to receive some sort of a medal or an award. Being able to accomplish that was a big thing. It meant asking my mom and dad to attend the events to witness my academic achievements. In hindsight, I realized it wasn’t about the shiny medals and decorated certificates that mattered. I wanted them, especially my mom, to be proud of their 5^th child, born by accident 8 years after my brother who was supposed to be my parents last child. Since she was always busy managing the business, this was my way of spending time with her. I yearned to see the proud look on her face as she watched me walk up on the stage. Her smile never faded. On the contrary, it looked lovelier, sweeter, and prouder each time.

On most occasions, during my summer breaks, I would shadow her at their office where I learned a handful of useful negotiation skills (haggle or walk away) and great money habits (save before you spend) that were instrumental in developing my financial IQ.

I continued to crave for more attention from her when I got older, so I went on to do other things which I know she appreciated. She liked to hear me sing and so I sang despite the mediocrity of it. She was into ballroom dancing and so it motivated me to learn how to dance. She loved shopping and so whenever I could afford it, I bought her the nicest things she liked. She loved to play the piano and so I used one of my first lines of credit to get her one.

She was also a religious woman and so when I moved up to Northern California, we took her and my dad on a road trip to visit the Mission churches along the coast from Santa Barbara to Carmel. She also loved having grand birthday celebrations and so my siblings and I made sure to give her memorable ones, especially during the remaining years of her life.

That was my mom or at least the person I’ve known her to be. I’m sure we all have our own endearing narratives about our own mothers who stood by and showed us our worth through their own unique languages of love.

On this day of May 11, let us all celebrate and honor the mothers in our lives. They are the special people who are truly more deserving of these superhero titles: Wonder-Super-and Iron-Women of the world!