I grew up watching my aunt support their family. While my dad (her brother) moved to Manila to study and eventually build his own family, she stayed behind, suddenly responsible for eight mouths to feed. One by one, her siblings grew up, got married, and moved on with their lives. And in what felt like a blink of an eye, she was left once again—this time caring only for her mother (Mamay) and father (Papa), my grandparents.
In reality, she never got to marry or have children. She spent her entire life giving, sacrificing, and always putting her family’s needs before her own. In today’s world, not having a husband or kids can be seen as a privilege, but in her case, and I know this deep down, she would have loved to be a wife too. She just never got her chance.
A chance to start a life of her own.
One day, almost casually, I asked her if she thought she would’ve gotten married had she not been weighed down by so many responsibilities. Without hesitation, she said, “Yes.” Then she quickly followed it with, “But I don’t regret it,” as if she were trying so carefully not to feel sorry for herself. That's why when Mamay (my grandma), the only parent she had left, passed in 2021, I lowkey thought she could finally have the chance to live her life. To spend her money not paying bills, not caregiving anyone, on nothing at all. We just wanted her to enjoy it.
When I was a kid, she was the kind of woman I aspired to be (aside from my mom obvi) because out of all the siblings, she was the smartest; she had a degree, a career, and a breadwinner. An all-in-one package. I remember her visiting us in Manila during my first job, cheering me on and offering career advice. It felt nice and different to hear it from someone who wasn’t my parents.
It was 2019 when we moved to Taguig. After losing my brother and my dad, she stepped in and became our guardian at home, the motherly figure we were all craving. My cousins and I, we never really got the chance to spoil our moms back then; we were young and just starting out. Now that we can finally afford it, even just a little, we make it a point to take her out on weekends and buy her food and little things. We even flew to Boracay last year (our first trip together), and I was genuinely happy.
On Mother’s Day, I got her a cake. We had plans to visit Bicol this year so she could introduce us to our relatives. There were so many plans ahead of us.
Whenever I finished work in the morning, she’d already be at the kitchen table, asking me to join her for coffee. She knew I didn’t even drink coffee, but she’d still ask anyway. When I once got rushed to the ER and sent home the same day, she kept checking on me, just to make sure I was still alive in my bed, lol. It was such a small, cute gesture, but it meant so much to me. Every time I went to the grocery store, I’d ask her what she wanted or needed, and somehow that became our routine. When I came home from a trip, I’d always ask if she wanted anything. I treated her the way I would’ve treated my own mother if she were still here.
She became the mom without ever trying to be. I loved how selfless she was. I could open up to her about anything, she never judged me, but she always stayed logical. She would often talk to us about death arrangements, and I never saw it as a premonition. Talking about these things should be normalized; she was simply being realistic. After losing so many people in our lives, it only felt right to have conversations like that.
She would often complain about her back hurting and her arms going numb, and whenever I had time, I’d give her a quick massage. But around November last year, she told us she planned to get herself checked because she was constantly feeling tired. Little did we know, that was the beginning of something far more serious.
After countless lab tests and a CT scan, we found out she had breast cancer and that it had already spread to her liver. She wasn’t just battling one cancer, but two. We sat down together and cried. I kept asking God why it had to be her, of all people. It felt unbearably unfair. She didn’t deserve this 😢
From then on, everything happened so fast. She stopped coming down to the kitchen and would mostly stay in her room; just climbing the stairs would tire her out. Her meals were delivered to her, and my other tita (her younger sister) and I took turns caring for her in shifts.
By December, I was debating whether to go ahead with my party given everything that was happening, but my tita told me to just go. She felt bad because she couldn’t attend; she really wanted to be there. 😢 By this time, her stomach had swollen like a pregnant woman's, a complication caused by the cancer in her liver. She needed help just to go to the bathroom, eat, and drink. The change was drastic; she had grown so frail and thin. It pains me to see her in that state.
On the morning of December 24th, after my shift ended, she asked if I was done working. I told her yes, and she said she wanted to go to the hospital because of the severe pain in her stomach. My cousin and I rushed her to the ER, where she stayed until night. Eventually, she was sent home after the pain subsided. It was a scare for the whole family; we really thought we’d be spending Christmas in the ER. She improved a little, but we all knew it wouldn’t last. Just over the weekend, her condition worsened. She would sleep for around 15 hours a day, partly because of her medication and partly because of the cancer.
One time, while I was working and looking after her, she faintly called my name and asked me to adjust her position. I stood up from my station to help her. As I held her, she apologized, saying how much of a burden she had become while I worked. I told her not to think about it, but I couldn’t help crying afterward. With so little energy left, she still managed to speak and apologize. It was truly heartbreaking.
We had another scare on the night of December 31st and rushed her to the ER because of the pain. When the doctors saw her condition, they decided to send her home so she could be with us for New Year’s. They ran a few tests, but it was clear they were mostly following hospital protocol. I wasn’t there while she was hospitalized, but my cousin told me how the doctors had looked at her, there was just no hope in their eyes.
We celebrated New Year with nothing but hope that some miracle would happen and she might get better. During my shifts with her, she would ask me to help her sit up, and I’d give her a brief back massage to ease the pain. I remember just silently crying while I did it. I knew the end was coming. She had gotten so thin I could trace her bones. We eventually had to put her in a diaper, but whenever she needed to pee, she insisted on standing, as she didn't want to stain the mattress. She remained graceful despite her condition.
Her birthday was coming up on January 10th, and she knew it. One day, she suddenly blurted out, “Happy Birthday to me.” We all looked at her and told her it was only the 3rd. She smiled and said she thought it was already her birthday. She was probably getting a bit disoriented, she always used to say the 6th was her birthday. We told her she needed to stay strong so we could celebrate properly on the 10th.
It was January 4th, when my other Tita and I realized she hadn't been conscious. We tried waking her up a couple of times but she seemed to be in such a deep sleep. At around 4am, she started breathing heavily, and we were surprised to find out she had peed and soiled her diaper. That's when we knew. Could be anytime now.
After cleaning her up, I sat beside her and spoke from the heart. I told her it was okay to let go, thanked her, and told her how much we loved her. I heard that they could still hear us, so I wanted to make sure that she knew we were beside her in her final moments. I saw a tear roll down her face, and it made me bawl my eyes out. She could still hear me! I was a bit hopeful seeing how she responded, but I'd be lying to myself if I kept pretending that she was going to be okay when it's obviously the opposite.
Around 6 a.m., I was still on my shift, looking after her, when I heard a noise; it sounded almost like a snore. I looked at her and saw her eyes roll briefly. Then her chest slowly stopped moving.
That was her last breath.
I froze, struck by shock. For a moment, I didn't know what to do or how to react. I woke up my other aunt, cousins. We checked her BP, but the machine kept giving an error. We called an ambulance. They managed to detect a faint heartbeat, but she was later pronounced dead.
I’m not the most religious person, but I believe in God. Still, I question Him about what He’s done to my life. Taking my mom, my dad, my brother, and now her. It’s hard to believe that all of this is part of some divine plan.
God, please tell me when this will get better.
It's so unfair.
I miss her terribly.
I miss her singing and her cooking
I miss how she couldn’t hold back her laugh in serious situations.
or how she’d start a joke and then completely lose herself in laughter and couldn't finish her story.
I hope you are at peace now, together with Mamay and Papay.
You will always be remembered.
Forever in our hearts,
Grasya
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