You asked me to take care of Dady and Kuya, but I didn’t. I pushed them away, let them be swallowed by depression, moved away from them, I decided to be alone. I didn’t take care of them like I promised, because I can’t. I am not strong as you. I am not you.
You asked me to stay strong. I tried, Mom. But you forgot to teach me exactly what it means. Why didn’t you tell me that stubbornness is different from strength? I knew you were strong, but I am not you.
I promised you that I will pursue our dreams, that I’ll attach a title on my name, but I didn’t. I got scared, Mom. I got scared that I wasn’t intelligent enough or talented enough or confident enough. I got scared of rejection, of losing again. I am scared that I can’t survive out there, because I am not you.
I hurt our boys and left them on their own. I have no career to be proud of. My life is a mess. My achievements are superficial. I hurt everybody around me. I am fucked up. I’m sorry, but I failed you.
You told me to take care of them, but I didn’t.
You told me to be strong, but I wasn’t.
I promised you that I’ll be fine, but Mom, I’m not.
I’m sorry I failed you.
If you were here, I know you’ll tell me how everything will be fine.. How everything is just a matter of perspective.. How smart and strong and independent I am, and how these characteristics will bring me to places. I know you’ll hold my hand and assure me that God has a plan for my life and I just have to hold on to His promises.
But I’m lost, Mom. And I’m afraid. And I need your arms to reassure me that I am not alone and we’ll make it through together, just like what we planned.
I’m sorry that I lied when I told you that I’ll be strong for everybody. We need you here. We all do. But I guess they need you more up there.
Can I borrow you for one last time, though? One last reassurance? One last hug? One last squeeze of my hand? One last smile?
I’m sorry, but your little girl needs you still.