She Never Came Back Again

- A Reality -

I packed my suitcase that night with deep sadness. Once in a while, I catch myself staring blankly into space still feeling dumbfounded about the news. Not wanting to be late for my evening flight, I snapped out of it and brought myself back into what I was doing and shoved the tugging melancholia back inside my head. I took a slow, sharp breath; mustered the courage to finish my preparations, and carefully ensured I had everything I needed for my short trip home. I gave it my best to focus and get my packing done.


I prepared only the basic items - my clothes, some snacks for my nieces and nephews, passport, and my travel essentials. Then, I did one final check which made me feel a tinge of satisfaction knowing everything was set. But within the tick of a second, that satisfaction turned into a quiet pause that made time slow down. Clenching a fist over my chest, I broke down in tears again and while I knew I've prepared what I can, there's one more thing that wasn't ready at all - myself.

- My Internal Dialogue -

When someone dear to us passes away, without any caution nor preparation, there appears so suddenly a massive hollow space inside our hearts and it really feels empty. One of life's greatest ironies is found within this hollow cove - that nothing feels much heavier than emptiness, of which sometimes can be too much to bear. One moment, we are surrounded by the presence of a person who cares for us, worries about us, love us wholeheartedly and prays for us every single day without fail - the next moment, they are gone forever.

When my sister Angel and myself were younger, Mommy Hening took us to the doctor and took care of us when we got sick. 

Their sweet voice, warm smile, and comforting hugs used to seep through us like soft rays of an early morning sunrise - convincing our very core that we are worthy of love and for a moment, we believe it wholeheartedly. They enveloped our entire being with hope and erased away our troubles. We, selfish in nature, allow ourselves to accept - only to accept, without giving much back - all the selfless gifts these special people share with us. So greedily sometimes that we often fail to thank them, sometimes taking them for granted, and very rarely return the same love. We naively think that they will be with us forever until reality kicks in and knocks us out.

In this photo is my mother Mama Estela, Alex, Mommy Hening and myself.

Now, we are enduring the repercussions of our selfishness by swimming in the pool of regrets. The words that now fill our mouths are "I'm sorry", or "I wish I could have done more for you", and at the most whispery voice dispelled through our lips, a meaningful "Thank you".

Carefully, we strongly hold on to the memories we have of this person. We constantly replay the happy memories much more because thinking about the pain we've caused to them is a painful blow to the gut that we could not fathom. The chance we were given to have lived a happy and long life with them that's filled with satisfaction and contentment has already come to an end.

So we cry until we bawl our eyes out - because we were not ready for this yet, and still it happened.

- Reaching Home - 

21 September 2019 - I reached Cebu early in the morning and my family was waiting for me at the airport. I was happy to see them. We ate breakfast and while enjoying the hearty meal, we spontaneously talked about our happy moments together. I thought I had it all together until we reached home and I finally saw her.

There, in her new, white, bed decorated with fresh flowers lied one of the most selfless, loving, and caring people we've ever known - Mommy Hening. She was sleeping peacefully and painlessly. The moment I leaned down and looked past through the glass that separated us from her, caused the dam's high-quality structure to break down - my strong facade shattered and tears gushed so endlessly on my face. My father served as our support and my sister, my mom, and I released our longing for Mommy Hening and offered a prayer for her.

Mommy Hening is my mom's sister. She is a mother figure to her six other siblings.

The rest of the service was filled with so much presence from people who were touched by her selfless love - family members, church members, community, neighbors, friends, and long-distance relatives. Each night, the place got so full of the adoring crowd praying for her and celebrating her legacy.

My cousins, aunts, uncles were all on their feet to ensure a smooth flow of her wake. It was at that moment and at that scene that I recalled an important life lesson - that wealth isn't all about money, but also the abundance of grace, wisdom, and love that surrounds each one of us. Clearly, Mommy Hening had lived such a simple and meaningful life that was filled with much joy and love for her to be celebrated that way.

- What Stayed -

The thing that stayed most with me is the importance of appreciating those that love us and not take them for granted. Mommy Hening has also taught me to stay grounded and be approachable to people. She is an epitome of selfless love to her 6 siblings, her family members, her neighbors, friends, and most importantly, to those who needed love. She expected nothing in return. She sacrifices for other people. She does not like to hassle others. She is humble, generous, and caring.

She is beautiful. Her soul is beautiful.

I am thankful to have been loved by her in this lifetime, and while it's sad that she is no longer with us, people are still positively disrupted by her presence and guidance - to which I am much grateful for.

- An Ode to Her -

The door creaked open as she stepped in.

"Good morning!",

in high spirits she always says.

"Have you eaten?", 

without fail she always asks.

"What's wrong?", 

she worries because she cares.

She gives, despite not having much.

She loves, unconditionally.

She smiles, very warmly.

Always.

Everyday.

With no fail.

The door creaked open as she stepped out.

And never came back again.

But her memories live on.
In our hearts, forever.

Thank you, Mommy Hening.

I love you.

Love, 

'Dai Jedde