Mother of the Groom


By Jett Pe Benito

Hollywood actor Steve Martin made a killing at the box office with the movie Father of the Bride. The movie was such a hit that it merited a sequel that garnered somewhat the same results. We were touched as Martin’s character went through a maelstrom of emotions in dealing with his daughter’s wedding. But Tinseltown has yet to do a movie about the mother of the groom. The woman who has nurtured every prospective groom from infancy to maturity—and more often even beyond the days of bachelorhood.

Here is an open, honest and candid letter from a mother to a son and her thoughts on what it felt to have her only child take on a responsibility that she knows, deep in her heart, he is prepared for.

My Dear Brodie,

It has been a month now since we last met-about two months from the day of your wedding.

I still cannot get over the feeling of amazement, of “shock” (don’t worry, it wasn’t much of an impact as to put me to death) surprise,confusion, etc., etc.Why? You never told me you had a girlfriend with whom you were that serious. Besides, when you asked me to go with you to that far, far place, you never told me it was a “pamamanhikan!” But anyway, that’s all forgiven and survived. And the nice part about it is, praise the Lord, I love “Brendie”. You picked a great gal!

You know something? When we were telling her parents about your planned wedding I couldn’t help feeling I might be dreaming… I still saw you as my little baby. I was scared you might not be ready for that phase, of that chapter in life. How could you, I thought. The more I doubted. I was in the realm of the present or the distant future-the reality-when I saw you walking down the aisle in that wedding suit—all prim, serious and so handsomely mature—a full grown gentleman-all of a sudden the picture of you as my “baby” became so distant—so long gone and believe it or not, for the first time I felt old. I never felt old before, never. Life was one continuos episode of youth, with its laughter, light easy happenings, common and ordinary events. Things that never threatened the aging process. It might have been my guardian angel who shook me off this feeling and whispered into my ear, “Hey, girl, you should not feel this way. You’re just having an unknown and new experience. Your love for your son has reached its fruition, has multiplied. He has extended the love to someone wonderful. Soon there will be an extension of it to a third being perhaps a little angel-faced baby” and so on and so forth.

These thoughts eased my heart—put the turmoil in my mind to rest—and I felt a calmness, which I couldn’t have produced in me by myself.

Well son, I just want to assure you that I’ll be here for you when you need me. As long as I can afford to in body, soul and spirit—you’ll have my support. And also, as long as my pocket can afford it, OK lang.

God bless you and keep you in the palm of His hand for always.