By Daniel Al B. Delfin
I distinctly remember it was raining when I found out that my mother had cancer. And I feel like it hasn’t stopped raining ever since.
By Marriane Elnar
I grew up writing letters to my mother. I don’t know if it’s because I have a natural penchant for putting my thoughts on paper, or because when you’re a child of an overseas Filipino worker, writing letters is a thing you learn next to brushing your teeth or making your bed. At eight, while […]
From the time of her arrest on March 27, 2014, the treatment of then pregnant Andrea Rosal has been dehumanizing, made worse by obvious bad faith, if not disregard for basic human rights. She was subjected to undue stress, tension, anxiety and discomfort in infernal, humid and crowded jail conditions.
My mother, Teresita Balisi Tamayo, phoned me one Sunday afternoon and sadly told me that her eyesight was getting worse. She said that her right eye could not see anymore. She said she had sought the advice of an eye doctor and was told that she had to undergo a refractive surgery due to cataract. During our phone conversation, she sobbed and it was the first time my mother requested me to pray for her in earnest. She said that she dreads the day she may no longer see me and my elder bother Rogie and our respective families.
By Fr. Jerry M. Orbos SVD
The story is told about a dying woman who told her children: “When I die, have my remains cremated, and have my ashes scattered in the mall nearby.” When her children asked her why, her response was: “In that way, I know you will always be present and visit me at least once a week.”