Mom, what did we last talk about?


Last words are powerful.

In stories or movies with heartbreaking endings, characters would leave important words that would impact the lives of the viewers; those which would give them epiphanies, so they would want to be better, to change, or to continue in life giving their best foot forward.

But fiction is fiction; and these words are well thought of and edited a hundred, or maybe a thousand times to create a perfect ending. Here is reality. In the real world, there are no beautiful and impact giving last words. Only questions of what should’ve been said before the parting.

It’s ironic how important for me last words are, when I can’t even remember what my Mom last told me before she passed. I didn’t realize this until months after my Mom’s passing, I was telling a close friend about the day Mom went when surprisingly, I was caught off guard and suddenly asked “What were Mama’s last words? Because I honestly can’t remember”.

The question haunted me for days, and up until now, it still does. I can’t remember what my Mom’s last words were. Sometimes, it’s funny; but most times, it’s devastating.

Every night, when I’m about to sleep, I look at my Mom’s photos on my bedroom wall, and wonder. How did I get to say goodbye? Or was I able to?

The sunset my Mom passed wasn’t the kind you see in movies. It was painful, and every night I remember.

I remember how she fought for air, how she held my Dad, how she couldn’t decide whether to lie down or sit, how she tried to vomit but nothing came out, how my Dad did all he could to help her be comfortable, and how I came down from upstairs and saw Mom peacefully lying there, lifeless. I never saw how she went, I never heard what she last said, but Daddy told me that as she drew her last breath, she whispered to him that we two should stick together no matter what; that she loved me so much.

Even though my Dad told me what she spoke of in her last moments, I deemed it important to remember what we, my Mom and I, last talked about. But no matter what I do, no matter how much I vividly remember the sunset she passed, I couldn’t seem to grasp what our last conversation was about. It’s like the world is playing this game on me about how I still feel the sting of losing her like it just happened earlier today, but the things we last spoke of were completely lost somewhere in between muffled cries and breaking hearts.

Every day, when my mind becomes unoccupied; every night, before I sleep, I go back to those last moments with Mom. I don’t care if replaying everything would scar my heart more than it already is. All I know is that I won’t ever be at peace until I remember the last words I heard her said.

I hate that this is reality; and that I am part of this madness. I hate that I can’t rewrite Mom’s last moments, so I’d be able to talk to her one last time; that I’d be able to somehow make our last conversation beautiful.

I hate that I feel so much, but I can’t remember.

Mom, I’m sorry if I can’t let this go. But I know, someday I will be able to, when I have my questions answered, I will then, let you go.


A love story

I am a big fan of romance. I enjoy seeing other people express their never ending love for their partners. Moreover, I enjoy reading novels that has an extraordinary love story, because I like seeing love in a new perspective. Not all love stories are the same. But at some point or another, there’s a difference that makes a relationship original.

I’m not going to tackle one by one for you all the love stories I know. I’m just going to mention one in particular. This is a story which made me believe that we can actually learn to love someone unconditionally not because we loved that person from the beginning we met him, but because we choose to accept the good or the bad and give importance to the memories we both have shared.

B was an introvert. She was always comfortable on her own. She loved her father so much that she thought she never needed someone to be with for the rest of her life. A was happy go lucky. He liked going out with his friends and he was a big shot among the girls. B and A knew each other because B’s mom hired A to teach B’s sister how to drive. B and A never talked before. Then B’s father died. Her mom was devastated. B was in so much pain. B’s mom was sick, so she decided to marry B off because she knew that if she didn’t, B would become an old maid. B married A. After a year, they had a daughter. B’s mom was really happy. She loved her grand daughter so much she spent all her waking moment taking care of her. Then B’s mom died.

B’s sister rarely went home because she was a military doctor. She needed to stay in the military camps. B’s relatives were in the province. So all that B had was A and their daughter. It was never a perfect marriage. B and A always fight because they really could not get along, even with simple little things. A would always threaten to leave B and take their child with him. A lot of shouting. A lot of pain. For so many years, they did this. But A never left B. He could not. After the fights, they would reconcile and be happier than they ever were. Eventually, the fightings that caused a lot of pain stopped. The threats of leaving stopped. The love grew stronger and the understanding grew deeper.

They were finally able to express their love for each other. And those times, they really mean it. They still fight, but most of the time together were good times. They cuddle, they kiss, they laugh about silly stuff. Sometimes they just sit there, holding each other. It seems like the silence is also a connection. A link to each other that only the two of them could understand.

As I watch them and their love every day, I couldn’t help but be amazed by how they learned to love each other unconditionally despite their history. I think that they’re really lucky to have each other, that this is one love story designed by God.

When I fall in love, I want to have the kind of love that they have. Because someday, I want my kids to also be wanting the kind of love that their parents have. I want them to be writing about their mom and dad’s love story.