WHO KNEW that the last time I’d ever see my sister would also be the day she brought life into the world? It’s fitting, really, that even in her last moments, she would still provide us with a beam of happiness. That was just who Ate was—the kind of person who can leave a lasting impact on those that she has met.
Back in 2016, my sister announced to us that she was pregnant with her first child—her parents’ first apo and her siblings’ first pamangkin. Needless to say, it was a pretty big moment in our lives. Months leading up to the big day, the excitement toward the milestone was evident in all of us.
Nonetheless, Ate Lexis made it instantly clear that despite her young age, she was determined to become the best mother she could be.
Seven years ago today, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl who would immediately light up our lives and become the exuberant and sweet child she is today, just like her mommy Alex. However, a day after the delivery, my sister succumbed to a pulmonary embolism right before she was about to see her baby for the first time ever.
Others say that time heals all wounds, but here I am now, seven years later, with a gaping scab that is most likely not going away. However, instead of continuing to bask in sorrow from the pain, I would learn to accept the reality and use it as motivation to carry her name. In retrospect, this mark eventually became a part of me, and I treat it like a badge.
While the heartbreak was unbearable at the beginning, it was during these times of sorrow and struggle that I reflected upon her journey. Absorbing all the eulogies and tributes given by her friends and our family, I realized how responsible of a mother she was, even before she was pregnant.
Ate Lexis’s service for others was distinct throughout the different facets of her life. In high school, she was the mediator who would mend ruptured relationships and be a source of guidance to her friends. Early on, she revealed her motherly instincts that helped her resolve these conflicts.
In her college years, her voluntary work for the less fortunate knew no bounds. Every weekend, she would not be at home because she was visiting an orphanage or a marginalized community.
Though she might be stubborn with us, she was also the person we reach out to the most when we have personal dilemmas, or when we just want someone to talk to. In all aspects of life, she had exemplified being a mother—years before she had Lily.
My sister also never failed to be symbolic, as Lily was named after Harry Potter’s mother—the woman who sacrificed her life and saved her son from Voldemort’s curse through the power of love.
As delusional as it may sound, I see the foreshadowed symbolism. The strength of Ate’s love for everyone turned the pain from her death into the greatest lesson I have ever discovered: to be of service to others, always.
Lily may have never met her mom, but Ate’s trace on the people she has touched will always be there for eternity. Being one of the lucky many, I’m certain that I and most of the people in Ate’s life will make sure to apply her values to everything we do. In that way, Lily will be able to sense her mother’s presence through all of us, just as if her mom never left.
I sure do miss my sister, but I take solace in the fact that her noble legacy will always remain in our hearts forever.
Anton is a senior in the Ateneo De Manila University expecting to graduate in 2024. Majoring in Economics, he is dedicated to applying his journalistic acumen and economic skills to elevate and enhance financial support for the marginalized sectors within the Philippines.
Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.
