With smiling eyes, she listened to me recount some of my favorite childhood memories growing up in her home, with her children. She couldn’t speak anymore with the tube from the respirator in her mouth, but she was alert and awake, and trying desperately to comfort us. Fragile as she was, I reached out to touch her hand and felt her warmth. I wanted her to know everything she meant to me, how grateful I was to have her in my life. How could I sum it all up with one conversation? Memories flooded back more quickly than I thought possible. Suddenly, I was three years old again, running around the house with her eldest daughter. I remember dashing through their backyard on Easter Sunday, eagerly trying to fill my basket with as many eggs as I could before they were all found. I remember seeing her pregnant with her youngest daughter, as we threw her a surprise party in their house. I recalled the family trips we took together, reunions with their medical classmates from University of Santo Tomas in the Philippines. How many of these things I was able to tell her about out loud, I am not certain, but among all of these memories was a current of vitality - of this bright and vibrant woman whose strength reached out beyond just her core family and seamlessly spilled into mine.
The nurses in the ICU walked in and out, continuously checking the monitors and trying their best to make her comfortable. She looked at my mother, then my father and gave them a thumbs up, seeming to tell them that she was going to be fine. My father put his hand on his heart, and gave her the thumbs up in response.
I walked out of the room not knowing that this was probably one of the most important conversations I’ve had in my life. That those would be the last words I would ever be able to tell her.
The moon was a beautiful amber color in the sky the night she left us. Although we couldn’t view it from Chicago because it was so cloudy, I was fortunate enough to have received an image from a photographer friend of mine. If you were standing on the moon that night, you would have seen the silhouette of the earth and surrounding it, the brilliant colors of the sun. This is what reflected onto the moon that night, giving it the amber glow as the light filtered through the earth’s atmosphere and onto the moon’s surface as the lunar eclipse approached. This eclipse intersected with the winter solstice (the longest night of the year) for the first time in over 370 years.
And so, on one of the rarest nights of the past centuries, this uniquely vibrant life left us. And we were left in darkness.
Some astrologers say that this cosmic occurrence has something to do with this being a pivotal time in the Earth’s history, that the darkness flowing into further darkness has definite symbolisms. To me, it will always be a reminder that in complete darkness, the first sliver of light always shines the brightest. A new life is beginning. It is a symbol, that where there is despair, there is even greater hope not too far in the distance.
Missing you dearly, Tita Cynthia. I will always carry you in my heart.

Image courtesy of the ever-talented Heather James from Princeton, NJ.


























































