Finding Peace
I hit myself today with an invisible wall of realization, unable to muster the will to continue my review for my upcoming exams. That hit brought a wave of melancholy, and suddenly I was already crying. And I felt the burden hanging up inside that I have been brushing off for awhile- no not for awhile- it’s almost three (3) decades already.
Today’s the day of my mock bar exam, and it will end before the clock strucks midnight. Yet, here I am pouring out a dilemma not of everyone’s concern. I guess, this is the effect of safekeeping a grief for that long.
Time passed by, and now at 45, with multiple responsibilities on top of the upcoming exams, the review is already draining me both emotionally and physically. But, I am determined to pass the bar before another year adds to my life.
Maybe that is the reason why I came to a point of recollection, perhaps exhaustion.
Pardon me loves, if I’ve come here to unburden my dying soul. But my hope is that, my words won’t weigh heavily on you, lovelies, but rather lift you up.
May they serve as a reminder that life’s unfairness is not measured in moments of trials. Over time you must realize these what prepares us for greater things to come.
I’ve learned this belief and became my mantra, because of my mother. Now that I remember her, her memory flashed in my head now, reminding me of how we used to pray together, regardless of life’s storms- with or without something to request from Providence- we pray.
Those 3 AM Sunday prayers were sacred rituals she lovingly included me in, teaching me the power of faith. Yet, there came a time when my belief wavered and I stopped praying- for almost 3 decades.
Silence of Loss
For the longest time, I couldn’t bring myself to pray. The day my foster mom passed away was the last time I tried. I can’t really explain why I stopped; maybe it was because the pain was too much, and it hasn’t gone away even now.
Back in 1998, when she died, it was like I lost my direction. I kept my feelings locked up tight because they were too big to talk about. People thought I was okay with her gone, but they had it all wrong. The pain of losing her was something I couldn’t put into words, especially because our bond was something only we understood.
Me and my mom, we weren’t perfect. We had our share of arguments, like a never-ending tug-of-war. But no matter what, I never lost respect for her. She was the one who taught me to be strong and to believe in myself.
She was everything to me. With my dad away for work, it was just the two of us. She showed me how to live, how to be kind, and her bedtime stories were the highlight of my day.
Her leaving me felt like getting lost in a dark place. At her funeral, I couldn’t even cry. Everyone thought I was cold, but the truth was, I was shattered. I was afraid that if I looked at her, that last image would be stuck in my mind forever—not as my loving mom, but as someone I’d never get to see again.
Letting Go and Living On
The emptiness left by my mom’s passing has been a shadow in my heart, a constant ache that flares up with every memory of her.
I gave up on prayer because it seemed useless. No words, no tears could bring her back. The void she left is as painful today as it was then, and healing felt like a distant dream.
For so long, I believed I was unlucky, that life was just a series of tough breaks I couldn’t handle. Stuck in my grief for nearly 30 years, I’ve been walking through life without really feeling it. Sure, there were moments of joy, but was I truly happy? I’m not so sure.
Thinking about it now, my mom would be heartbroken to see me clinging to this sadness. It’s been gnawing at me, spilling over into my family life, my studies, my entire being. I’ve been frozen in place, not truly alive.
She’d want more for me. She’d tell me to be brave, to take on the world with courage. I was only 18 when I lost her, and I never got the chance to show her my gratitude, my love.
In my prayers now, I seek forgiveness from myself, to free her spirit and my own. To begin trusting, to open my heart again. She was my shield against the cruel words, the bullying, the people who couldn’t see my value.
As I prepare for my next exam, I can almost hear her tough love, pushing me forward. It’s exactly what I need to keep moving.
Putting these words on paper is like a conversation with her, and it’s lifting the weight off my shoulders. To everyone out there with their parents, treasure them. It’s not about what you can give; it’s about being present, being together.
If I had another chance, I’d give everything and more. But for now, I’ll step ahead, guided by her love, and hope that someday, I’ll find that peace.
A prayer for renewal
Dear Providence,
I am filled with gratitude for the eighteen years graced by the one who nurtured me. She was my provider, my teacher, and my unwavering source of unconditional love. Her essence was a blessing beyond words, a grace I would choose time and again, in every life, in every form.
If destiny allows, may she be my mother once more, not just in spirit but in blood. Yet, for all the silent nights, for every moment prayer escaped me, I seek forgiveness. With a humble heart, I ask that you grant her the joy of an afterlife as beautiful as the love she gave.
May her soul find eternal peace, for I have found the strength to release my grief. It is time for me to embrace life anew, with a faith reborn and a spirit unburdened.
Bless all those who share this path of loss, that they too may find peace and a renewed sense of hope.
Amen.
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