Andrea Nataly Pita Medina TP in Peru
Anya Beatrice Mendoza TP in the Philippines
For me, a good education begins with a hug. If there’s one lesson that overcoming cancer almost a year ago taught me, it’s the fragility we share as human beings. I am a single mother, and as my little one start- ed his first day of elementary school, I was preparing for my first chemo - therapy session after being diagnosed with stage three cervical cancer. I couldn’t have surgery because the inflammation was so severe that op - erating could perforate my bladder, and on top of that, the cancer could spread to my lymph nodes, leading to metastasis. So, I had to take the longer route. I had never faced so many catastrophic scenarios or fears in my life until my illness confronted me with an unbearable reality: leaving my little one alone. Those were weeks of intense treatment, between chemotherapy and radiation, with mental, emotional, and physical ups and downs that taught me so much. I realized I had been focused on what I wanted to give my son, not understanding that it wasn’t about the “what,” it was about the “who.” And that “who” was me. I had to learn to be more mindful of my love and self-care to become the mother I wanted to be. It was very difficult for me to slow down and enjoy each day, to learn to be present, and even to play. Today, I am better. I overcame cancer with a lot of effort and a range of side effects, but also with countless lessons. There isn’t a single day that goes by when I don’t hug my little one, especially in the mornings, and tell him how proud I am of him and how deeply I love him. Even on difficult days, when we argue, we always find a way to resolve it by communicating from a place of love. Many times, moms say we would die for our children, but honestly, it felt easier to face a path that might have led me to death than to be here to- day, living and striving every day to be well, healthy, and a better person, woman, and mother.
My dear Mommy Zennie, I lost you at the very young age of 15. Back then, the only thing I knew was to sleep, go to school, and eat. You never let me and Dad work on anything at home. I was a princess and Dad, your king. Your life has al- ways revolved around us. You cooked the best meals, kept the house spic and span, and washed clothes to its tidiest. You have always been our best supporter. You were there for every ups and downs we had. Your loss led me to realize that I am no longer a princess. I had to take over in serving our king. Slowly, I picked up the pace—I learned how to cook, worked on washing clothes, kept the house clean and organized as you did. Doing your role was no joke, but I had to keep up with it at an early age. This forced me to become responsible and mature early. I lost Dad at 22 and a year after I received one of my greatest blessings: I had a daughter. Raising her without you was difficult. I would always question and validate if I am doing the right thing. I was overprotective. I treated her like a princess. I was YOU, very much like you. I raised her like you raised me. But life is just full of trials, and I lost my daughter at her very young age of 15, due to Leukemia. I wanted to die at that very moment, but, inspired by how you’ve been so strong and resilient throughout the trials we had, I feel that I can make it through anything. I know that Gabbie’s early demise must be all con- fusing for her but in my heart, I know you were in the gates of heaven to welcome her and to answer her uncertainties. I lost you at 15. I lost my daughter when she was 15. Losing both of you is the very reason I am who I am today: strong, selfless, resilient. I know that I can withstand any trial that may come, and that I will emerge victo- rious, having survived life’s greatest challenges. My Mom, you are God’s gift to me. Thank you for your unconditional love that keeps me going. I love you more than words can express. How I
87
88
EXAMPLE OF RESILIENCE
LETTERS TO MOTHERS
Made with FlippingBook flipbook maker