To all who have lost a loved one, grief is a natural and inevitable response. Yet as we journey through loss, we must also remember to care for ourselves, or better still, allow others to support us, as we learn to live without the physical presence of those we hold dear.
How do I describe my Mom?
She was my best friend, my anchor, my number-one critic, and above all, my confidant. Twenty-five years ago, she left us to join my Dad in Heaven. It was painfully difficult because I was in the United States while she was in the Philippines. Not a day passed during her hospitalization that I didn’t call to talk to her, hoping my voice brought her comfort.
At that time, I was undergoing work training for a new system, multiple phases of enhancement that I dreaded because my heart longed to be with my Mama. But the rollout deadlines were strict, and I was asked to stay until training was completed. I practically begged my manager to let me go, but she firmly refused. Desperate, I went directly to the trainer and politely asked if I could leave. She simply said, “Just go. Family is more important.”
My husband (may God bless his soul) immediately booked a first-class flight for me because he wanted my journey home to be as worry-free and relaxing as possible. But during that flight, my heart was in turmoil, filled with anxiety, hope, and above all, love, just wanting to reach my Mama’s side. It felt like the longest flight of my life.
When I arrived, my sister and brother-in-law met me at the airport. They insisted we stop by their house first, but I begged them to take me straight to the hospital. They kept making excuses, and only later did I learn why: my Mama had passed while I was airborne. I blamed myself for not being more assertive, for not leaving sooner, for missing the chance to hold her hand and say my final goodbye. Most of all, I wished I had thanked her once more for raising us single-handedly after my Papa died at the tender age of 45.
After Papa’s passing, Mama continued sending my two older brothers to an all-boys Catholic school and the four of us girls to an all-girls Catholic school. For two years after his death, we prayed the Rosary every night after dinner, kneeling, sometimes with arms outstretched. She instilled the Catholic faith deeply in us, and to this day, we live it faithfully. We offer Masses for our Mama and Papa, our brother, our sister, and many relatives and friends, especially on birthdays and death anniversaries.
Mama was not only a provider; she was nurturing, hands-on, and attentive to every need. I still remember my first job interview just two months after college graduation, Mama accompanied me, sitting patiently outside the office. I was hired on the spot, and my new boss was so surprised to see my mother waiting for me. That was Mama: present, supportive, proud.
My first paycheck, I gave entirely to her, because no amount could ever repay what she had done for us. For my second paycheck, she refused to take it, saying I needed it for my own expenses. I bargained with her until she agreed to accept half. And throughout my nine years of working in the Philippines, half of every paycheck went to her.
On the day I left for the United States, Mama handed back every single cent I had ever given her. No words, just tears. Such is a mother’s love, immeasurable and life-shaping.
Thank you, Mama. I miss you every day. I know you are still watching over us. Thank you for everything. We love you always.
