I didn’t expect that my first trip during this lockdown would be to see you go. I didn’t know that my first flight is also your last, albeit in different destinations. You left us without saying goodbye, but I do understand. I know that it pains you to leave us, as much as it hurts knowing that you’re gone.

But I also know that you fought for us. You tried every means within your power to hold on and stay for us. Your battles against giants such as pneumonia, Alzheimer’s, and Parkinson’s in the last 3 years have made you the David to these Goliaths. I have personally witnessed how you struggled, how these demons have weakened your body, but have also strengthened your spirit. All to be with us and to keep our family intact.

The last 3 years have been very difficult for you and for us. We almost lost you in 2018 when you were in ICU for 3 weeks. You were in and out of the hospital before then, as well as after. It didn’t help that when the pandemic started, the most we can do during this period was having intermittent doctor home visits just to make sure that your medical needs were met, and a makeshift hospital room at home with the basic of equipments to ensure that we are always ready when new bouts of infections set in. You receive your nutrition thru a catheter, and you were constantly tossed and turned to change your position in bed to avoid sores and ulcerations. Jane and Monique, your caregivers, who have grown fond of you, have performed these tasks diligently round the clock, which gave me a new found appreciation of the work that caregivers do. It didn’t help as well that you developed Parkinson’s, which keeps you bedridden. or at times in a wheelchair. Gone were the days that you could walked past every able-bodied person 50 years your junior.

But the most painful part of your struggles was not the physical incapacities. It was the mental part. After seeing you in one of my regular trips to Iloilo after your discharge from ICU in 2018, you didn’t know this but I broke down at the Iloilo airport on my way back to Manila. That was when your doctor confirmed my suspicion that you may be suffering from Alzheimer’s. At that time, I can’t bear the thought of you losing all the precious memories of us, much more not able to recognize us when you see us. I can’t help but cried a river while waiting for my flight.

Those memories that we hold dear will soon be gone and in its stead will just be snippets of it over time. Memories of our childhood where you would protect us from the sun by having an umbrella over our heads during hours long parade (that’s probably why my complexion still looks great after all these years). Memories of our teenage years when you were struggling on how to deal with teenage boys, particularly when we start to answer back. I do understand that for your generation, where you were raised in a very restricted and conservative society then, it’s disrespectful to answer back to an elder, that a child should never challenge a parent, or even reason out. We were lucky to grow up having able to marry these two schools of thought: filial piety (respect for parents or elders) and having an independent mind. But in spite of our differences, there is one thing that you taught us that I believe we would all agree with: that a person’s wealth is not measured by material things, but the richness of one’s heart and values. That if we were stripped of everything down to our bare essentials, all we have is our name.

You may not be the perfect Mom, or have the most desirable parenting skills, but you have brought up four adults that you can be proud of. We know that you’ve been very proud of us. You always tell people that your greatest treasure are your children. That we are the best gifts that you got from above. But no Mom, you are our greatest treasure. You are the best gift we had. Your legacy lives within us. Yet that legacy has been undermined by Alzheimer’s.

Alzheimer’s is only a relief if we have regrets. I regret that I didn’t say I love you as much as I can. I regret those fights that we had and those periods of time that I didn’t talk to you out of anger. I regret that I wasn’t there for you these past months. I regret that I wasn’t able to say I’m sorry. Please forgive me Mom.

It pains us that you are no longer with us. There are no truer words than this borrowed quote from Josh Groban: “The grief of loss is the payback for the gift of love.” Mom, you gifted us with a love that only a mother can give, that’s why we are grieving. I know that only time can heal our broken hearts, that’s why we would rather celebrate you today than be lost in our grief. Thank you Mom for all your sacrifices in raising us and putting your family first. I know that you gave up promotion opportunities that will keep you away from us for periods of time. Thank you for the discipline that you have instilled in us, as well as the values that you have inculcated, such as always doing the right thing. That we may lose everything, but never lose our good name. Coz that is all we got. Thank you for your generous heart, not only caring for your own family, but also for everyone else whose lives you have touched (my cousins would surely attest to that). Most of all, thank you for the time, the good times and the bad, coz even in the shadows of Alzheimer’s, the memories would always be shared between us and will live on forever.

This is not goodbye, but see yeah in the after life. We love you Mom.

Your loving son (who’s missing you so much),

Franz