Page 356: The Reason Why

And that morning, you held her tight, kept telling her that it’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. She sobbed, she peed herself. Her diaper was drenched. She said she couldn’t hold it and it’s just happened when she was still asleep. “I know. I know. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll clean it. Let’s take a shower and change your diaper,” you said.

And as you watched her eating her breakfast, you realized that she has changed. Some part of you knew before that, but other part refused to believe that she has changed that much. That morning, it was the first morning you accepted the fact that the strong independent woman who raised you has been stressed out for years because of her illness and it has changed her. That woman who used to be so frikkin excellent at math, who was like a walking calculator has lost her ability to count that fast. That the woman who used to have remarkable memory, has changed into someone who forgot names and details.

You remembered the fights you had with her when you’re a teenager. You’ve always been the rebellious one, the one who broke her rules. You used to argue a lot with her, and now, she looks like she has no will to share stories and her thoughts. You missed arguing with her. You missed talking about books you just read. You know that although you and her had so many different ways of seeing things, she was the one who introduced you to the joy of reading books.

And you went to the other room because you didn’t want her to see your tears. Because you remembered that once, when everything was still alright, she said that although you’re one of the toughest “enemies” she's ever had, you’re also the evidence that she has raised a tough woman who can take care of herself and can stand up for what she believes in.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and left the room. You looked cheerful when you told her about your dream last night, the ritual you two always enjoy. And she analyzed it using her knowledge she got from Primbon. And you two laughed. You looked cheerful. You tried. Although you can tell from her face that she knew you just cried. But you tried to look cheerful anyway. Because you wanted her to see that you are tough, and she made you that way. She’s the reason why. The reason why.