I sat in the silence of the dark living room, which, for as long as I could remember, became the de facto space of the family’s New Year’s Eve celebration. This year, I’m thankful that I’m alive and that I get to start the year with family.
I started 2023 with a wandering in my heart: where is home?
Amidst the lingering pain of losing Mama on January 13, 2021, we were also catapulted into a hurricane of unintended consequences when the very same death resulted in rushed decisions by one of the remaining heads of our unit. I was at a loss on how to process my confusion as to where home is, because for the last six years since 2015 and up to the time when Mama died, I considered my parents, specifically Mama, our home—where I could come home to “when I fall down”.
On the eve of the first day of January 2024, I felt a longing in my heart for my Mother. During New Year’s Eve, I saw Mama in the person of my grandmother Lola Narda, when she was moving her lips after sipping something, and I exclaimed that she looked like Mama. I could not forget Mama’s face and her facial expressions, because although I have grown accustomed to sitting with my grief when I feel sad, like that of the ocean waves that crash on the shore, there are still moments when I would visit the album on my Photos Gallery that’s specially curated—all photos of Mama since when I was a child that were saved on my phone — and weep, when I feel like I wanted to experience catharsis with crying my eyes out.
After I exclaimed that Lola Narda’s facial expression looked like Mama, I wanted to sob. It was the most visceral thing to do at that exact space and time. As much as I am surrounded by my strongest support system, which is my family, I am also a child that terribly misses his mother. But I blinked back repeatedly my tears because I did not want to ruin the fun and the joy of welcoming the new year, and the new beginnings.
In the morning of January 1, 2024, I could not hold back my tears. I wept on the stairs of the cottage where my siblings were sleeping, snot and tears and all, because of the mixture of grief, longing, and love that I could not place, nor could I show towards. All the love that I felt at that moment for Mama, welled up and became tears that I could not stop.
Because to be honest, 2023 was a year of possibilities and finally making those steps towards realizing my God-given dreams. However, I was reminded that, even if my number one fan and cheerleader left for heaven early, Jesus is the only one that should validate my existence.
In the first week of October, when I was at the hospital and I was in the holding room while waiting for a vacant hospital room, I wept in the presence of the consulting psychiatrist when I talked about my internal conflict between continuing my life, as what my Mother wanted and wished for me to do before she passed away, and the desire to quell the narrative of my existence.
I sobbed relentlessly because in that moment, and in that very day, I was confused as to how my existence could rob others of the joy and the purpose of their very same existence so much so that they would intentionally question my desires and my dreams, and in so doing, cruelly hurt me.
But I came out of that ordeal, alive.
And I’m so thankful that I’m still here. Although for most of last year, I was at a loss as to how I would grapple at the thought and the concept of home, I found the answers in the travels with family and friends, the stories from the books that I have read and the people that I talked to, and also from the people that I have met along the way towards the finish line of 2023.
I realize that there could be many faces and spaces that I could call home.
God took Mother, at a time in my life when I’m finally managing the idea and the practice that it’s okay not to be okay, and that I have humanly accepted the fact that death is the ultimate prize of the victory towards life; but the Lord also replaced the love that my Mother could continually give me when she would still be alive today, with the love from the people (you) who rallied at my side, when the turbulent waters almost capsized my boat – you who reminded me time and time again that I am chosen, loved beyond measure, and known down to the very core of my existence.
Death may have threatened to knock at my door once more this year – but, though difficult and painstakingly laborious, the decision to live was further strengthened because of the promise of Philippians 1:6.
“Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.”
And I also rest in the promises that “all things work together for good”; “God’s grace is sufficient”; and our “hope is in heaven”.
When I had my follow up consult with my doctor, my psych doctor since 2016 Doc Victor Amantillo, before the Christmas holidays, and before I embarked on a Successful Living Summit in Boracay to reframe my narrative, I told him that despite the challenges in the very life that I live, and the unspooling of the narrative to quell my existence, I actually love this one life that I have.
I love the smell of newly bought books; sitting in silence at Prince Baker while sipping my King-sized Iced Cappuccino; talking to my forever friends and spending quality time with them; and to wonder, at daybreak and during dusk, what tomorrow will bring.
I love the moments that I spend with family and friends over food and coffee, creating powerful conversations and intentional actions that elevate my human experience – and that perhaps in doing so, someday, when I look back at my life that I have lived, would make me appreciate that I have made each waking moment count.
Because this one and only life is so beautiful. So much so that I am absolutely blessed to be able to live this very one life, heartbreak and hardships and all — albeit short.
Perhaps, it is true what Yann Martel, in the book, The Life of Pi, said about death:
“The reason death sticks so closely to life isn’t biological necessity; it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can.”
The year 2023 was filled with God’s goodness and grace, and though my life was splashed with dark and colorful hues, that made me fall down on my knees; brought tears to my eyes; and compelled me to question my existence, I am so thankful to still be here and to be part of this community and this journey.
I wonder how many sunsets I would have to chase and capture; storms I would have to weather; and turbulent seas I would have to sail in order for me to realize and appreciate over and over again, that a life lived in glorious surrender to one’s Master and Creator, is the only life worth living.
I wonder what 2024 will be like.
But, no matter what happens, I am going to continue living this beautiful life – until my last breath and until the last beating of my heart. ♥️
Onward, always forward, towards the blazing tempests and the glorious beautiful pathways of 2024. 🦋
Conquered Chocolate Hills with Le Familia, 2023
The Prodigal Kid 