There’s a kind of pain I carry that I don’t think will ever really leave me. It’s not always loud—sometimes it’s quiet, almost hidden—but it’s always there.
I lost my mother after thirteen years of not seeing her in person. We were apart physically, but we never lost communication. And somehow, that makes everything hurt even more.
For years, I held onto the thought that even if we couldn’t be together, we could still talk. I could still hear her voice, still feel her presence in some way. It gave me comfort. It made me believe that one day, we would finally see each other again—that all the distance would be worth it in the end.
I never thought that “someday” would suddenly disappear.
When she passed, it didn’t just feel like I lost my mom. It felt like I lost the future I was holding onto—the chance to finally hug her again, to sit beside her, to make up for all the years we were apart. And now, there’s another kind of pain I didn’t expect… the pain of not being there for her final goodbye.
I’m here in the Philippines, while she was laid to rest in Italy. And one of the hardest truths to accept is that I wasn’t there to walk her to her final resting place.
That thought alone breaks me in a way I can’t fully explain.
I keep imagining how it should have been—that I should have been there, standing beside her, saying my final goodbye, seeing her one last time. But instead, I’m here… far away… trying to accept something that feels so incomplete. Parang may kulang. Parang may parte ng proseso ng pagpaalam na hindi ko nagawa.
Ang hirap tanggapin na hanggang dito na lang ako. Na hindi ko man lang siya nahawakan sa huli. Hindi ko man lang siya nasilayan sa huling pagkakataon.
Because we stayed in touch, I remember her so clearly—her voice, her words, the way she cared even from afar. And now, that silence feels heavier. Wala nang tawag. Wala nang message. Wala nang “kumusta kayo diyan?” wala nang “sasi” o “sweetie.” Just memories… and a longing I know will never be fulfilled.
People say time heals, but I don’t think this kind of pain ever truly goes away. I’m not moving on—I’m just learning how to live with it. Some days I can smile, I can function, I can pretend I’m okay. But deep inside, nandun pa rin yung sakit.
I’m not healing… I’m coping.
I carry so many regrets. I wish I had shown her more often how much I appreciated everything she did for me—how deeply I love her. It also breaks my heart that she never got the chance to meet my second child. The last time she saw my eldest, my baby was only four months old.
Mi, thank you for everything—for your love, your sacrifices, and your kindness. I will carry you with me always.
You are now at peace, and though I wasn’t there to say goodbye, you will forever live in my heart.
Rest in peace, Mom. 🤍
