This is one of the hardest posts I’ve had to write

I was still had the flu when they decided to pull mom out of the ICU, gather all the family to come visit her. I remember staying outside of her room, downstairs at the hospital lobby, and at the hospital chapel. I couldn’t come see her because I was scared that even with a mask I’d cause complications. So I stayed around,  figured maybe she’d know somehow that I was there.

I have never been part of any decisions in the family, maybe because I was always considered too young or maybe they thought I just didn’t care. So most of the time, all the decisions were just passed and I just went along with them. I knew they were planning to move her to a regular room but I didn’t know when, I usually found out through house help. I remember my adoptive sisters nanny, arriving at the house, asking to look through mom’s closet so we can find something for her to wear when she passes. She said “you’re mommy is, wala na” – I seriously thought she was gone, thankfully, they just transferred her and were just waiting. I was relieved and happy I could wait around the hospital, at least.

I remember sitting in the chapel the longest, we went to mass and mom was a lector there. I thought of why we started hearing mass in that chapel in the first place, how she started to read, how she encouraged me to join the choir. Memories of my mom pranced around the chapel floors, while I stared at the cross almost seeing them play like a movie. I left when I realized it was late, and my dad might be on his way home to get his clothes.

She passed away that night. Sometimes I wish I could have said goodbye, if only I didn’t have that damn flu, but sometimes I feel like she already knew what I had to say.

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