You were strong and unrelenting in the care of your children. Despite lacking a mother’s love, or perhaps propelled by that lack, you pushed and channeled all that you lacked into us, your children. You showed us what it means to persevere; when there was nothing, you created something, making sure we had everything any child would have, like toys. You bought us little luxuries, like a little handheld game, when you had extra money from work. The home you created was your pride. You filled it with furniture, cabinets, and more so that we had a home you owned in your name and Dad’s. The mark of a good home for you is tidiness, and this is something that we try to emulate in our own homes.

You thrived for the many years you worked. With no education, you were able to work as a production operator and figured out how to write and read simply, even though you didn’t formally go to school. You blossomed as an individual—a proud, beautiful, and confident woman. You juggled your work and mother’s role and made sure we had home-cooked meals even though we knew you were exhausted. Maybe because we saw your struggle, we strove to be better teenagers and, thankfully, we all survived the turbulent teenage phase, cushioned by your enduring love.

But then, your grandchildren came along. Being a loving grandmother, you gave up the burden-free life that you could have chosen, which would bring you more fun and joy. Instead, you subsumed it under your role as a grandmother. It wasn’t easy; you and Dad had to care for your grandchildren. It was like re-living the life of a mother, but you lovingly endured. You showered your grandchildren with love and delicious food. At the same time, you managed their care, burdened with the expectations we placed on you, without any grumble.

Finally, they grew up. You were able to reap the benefits and enjoy your new chapter of life with freedom. You no longer need to worry about money or about your children or grandchildren. However, because of your great love, you took on the toll of caregiving to our dad, who unfortunately became sick. Those were difficult times, as at times we were less empathetic to you, and you struggled and felt unsupported. When Dad eventually passed on, you were finally liberated from the care burden. However, we felt puzzled and sad that your joy for living became tentative. It was as if there was something you were holding out for.

We see your loneliness and attempt to fill it with distractions. Sometimes it works, but sometimes, to our dismay, it does not. We see the beginning of your cognitive decline, and that grips us, your children, with anxieties and fear. We can only imagine how that frightens you, although you do not express it. You are insistent about being independent, and we deal with it with a dance of ignorance due to our worries. We do not want to hurt you and choose not to point out your moments of forgetfulness, your declining abilities, and the vulnerability that pains us as we watch you age. The dilemma of giving you what you truly desire, the autonomy to live alone, and yet, the fear of anything untoward happening to you, is something we always debate as children.

Yet, as time goes by, we want to honor what you truly deserve so you can be the proud, beautiful, and confident woman that you once were. We pray for you to have this and for us to have the courage and faith to respect your wishes.