He was only six years old at the time, while his older brother Eli was nine.
They stared out the window, watching the white ambulance drive away.
Inside… Mama. Silent. Motionless. No more breathing.

They couldn’t understand why. Just last night, they had laughed while eating sinigang.
No pain. No complaints.
And the next day… he was gone.

Papa was on his way to Zamboanga. He couldn’t catch up. Grandma, old and asthmatic, was trying to comfort the two children who couldn’t yet grasp the weight of a lifelong loss.

“Mama will just sleep,” Eli repeated, as if convincing himself.

But as the night wore on—no call from the sky, no glimpse of light in the dark room—they gradually received what they had never expected:

She wouldn’t wake up.

A week after the funeral, while Grandma was packing up Mama’s things, an envelope fell out of an old bag.
It had the name: “For Eli and Andrea. When I’m gone.”

Grandma sat down, her hand shaking as she handed the letter to the two children.

MY CHILDREN,

When you’re reading this, I know I’m no longer by your side.
As painful as it may be, I want you to remember this:
I didn’t leave because I wanted to.
I didn’t fight my illness because I didn’t have the strength—but because I didn’t want you to see me gradually weaken.
I want you to remember my last memory of me to be my laughter as I fed you your favorite dish.
The smell of my hair as I hugged you at night.
My voice as I told you fairy tales. Eli, you will be the pillar of the home.
Andrea, you are the light.
Your Papa… loves you very much. Even though he’s not here now, I know he’ll do anything for you.

And whenever you’re sad… look in the mirror.
You’ll see me there.
I’m in your eyes, your smiles, in every beat of your heart.
I love you. Forever.
– Mama

The siblings hugged each other. No words. Crying, but for the first time… there was light.
There was strength.

Since then, every night, they read Mama’s letter.
They used it as inspiration. Eli started helping with the housework, studying hard. Andrea, even though she was young, became more caring, stronger.
Papa, when he returned, almost collapsed from sadness. But when he saw Mama’s letter, and the strength of his children—he fell to his knees.

A few years later, Eli graduated as valedictorian.
Andrea became a writer, writing stories that give hope to children who have lost their parents.
And Mama’s letter? It’s in a frame. It hangs in the middle of the living room.

It says underneath, “He didn’t leave. He stayed with every bit of strength we had.”