The Visit
One day, Marco couldn’t bear it anymore. He went to Leyte to visit my cousin Lourdes.
“Auntie… it’s my fault,” he said quietly. “I didn’t stand up for Mom.”
Lourdes patted his shoulder and showed him a photo of me — wearing sandals and a simple dress, smiling as I walked with other elderly women in the plaza.
“She’s happy now,” she said softly. “Finally.”
The next day, Marco found the place I was renting. Outside grew red gumamela flowers. A piece of cloth hung on a wire. The air smelled faintly of burned food.
Knock, knock.
I opened the door, holding a ladle in my hand.
“Marco…”
He didn’t speak right away. His eyes were filled with tears.
“Mom… I’m sorry. Please come home. Denise and I regret everything.”
Learning to Love Myself
I didn’t answer. I turned around and poured tea. I placed the cup gently on the table. He sat on the wooden bench. We stayed in silence for a long while.
“I’m not angry,” I finally said. “But for now, I’ll stay here.”
“Why, Mom?”
I looked at him — calm but firm.
“Because I’m just learning how to love myself. And I want to stay strong in that.”
A week later, Jio came to visit. He ran to me and hugged me tightly.
“Grandma, you were gone too long. Don’t leave again.”
I stroked his hair. He offered me his favorite boiled mung beans.
Since then, Marco has brought Jio every weekend. Sometimes, Denise comes too. She’s starting to help me cook. We’re not close yet, but there’s effort — and that’s enough for me.
One day, Marco called.
“Mom, I made adobo. Want me to bring you some?”
I smiled. I didn’t answer right away. But for the first time, I felt that gesture came not from guilt, but from genuine understanding.
The money? It’s still in the bank. I never used it out of spite. It became an offering to my own peace. Because now I’ve learned something important:
True love isn’t endless sacrifice. It must be seen, respected, and have boundaries.
And this time, I will not let myself be invisible again.
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