October: A Month of Grief, Grace, and Gentle Celebration
October arrived without warning, ushering in a wave of emotion I never anticipated. What began as an ordinary month quickly turned into an emergency journey back to my hometown, Pampanga, Philippines. The reason was heartbreaking: my mother had passed away. I packed in haste, my heart heavy, and flew across oceans to be with family during one of the most difficult moments of my life.
The first two weeks of October were spent in the quiet company of grief. I helped arrange the wake, stood beside relatives, and tried to hold space for the sorrow that filled every room. It was a deeply emotional trip, reminiscent of the time my father’s ashes were brought back to the Philippines. I never imagined that both of my parents would leave me in the same year. That kind of loss reshapes you. It carves out a silence you didn’t know could exist.
Returning to the U.S. felt lonelier than ever. The flight back was filled with memories, tears, and the aching realization that I was now navigating life without the two people who had shaped me most. I landed just days before my baby boy’s third birthday—a bittersweet milestone that reminded me of life’s delicate balance between sorrow and joy.
Despite the grief still fresh in my heart, I knew I wanted to celebrate my son. He deserved to feel loved, seen, and cherished. So I poured what energy I had into crafting a semi-homemade DIY cake, simple but made with intention. We gathered virtually with loved ones through video calls, sharing laughter and birthday wishes across screens. It wasn’t grand, but it was heartfelt. And in that moment, I felt the quiet resilience of motherhood—how love can still bloom even in the shadow of loss.
Even though I’ve been grieving the loss of both my parents this year—a pain that often feels too heavy to carry—I’ve had to remind myself that I am also a parent now. I’m raising an innocent, curious little boy who looks to me for safety, love, and guidance. As a millennial mother, I’m deeply committed to breaking the toxic family dynamics I endured throughout my childhood and adult life. That cycle of emotional neglect and dysfunction stops with me.
Some might see this shift as selfish, but I see it as survival and transformation. I am determined to turn my life around—not just for myself, but for my son. I want to be a provider who is mentally present and physically strong, someone who nurtures with intention and shows up with love, even on the hard days. Every parent dreams of giving their child a better life, but for me, it’s more than a dream—it’s a promise. I believe that when parents cultivate a healthy mindset, it naturally leads to more compassionate and effective parenting.
Of course, the waves of grief still come. Sometimes they crash unexpectedly, triggered by a memory, a scent, or a quiet moment. But even in those moments, I strive to remain resilient for my child. I know I sometimes speak in circles, trying to make sense of emotions that don’t always have words. But I want people to understand: I may not be okay right now, but I’m trying. And that effort—that daily choice to keep going—gives me hope that healing will come.
In the meantime, my husband and I decided to celebrate a special milestone: our son’s third birthday. We planned a weekend getaway, a local trip lasting three days and two nights, designed entirely around what we knew he would enjoy. It was a joyful pause in the midst of a heavy season—a chance to honor his growth, our love, and the family we’re building together. I’ll be writing a longer blog post about that experience soon, because it deserves its own space and reflection
October reminded me that life doesn’t pause for grief. It continues, gently nudging us forward. And while I’m still learning how to carry this new weight, I’m also learning how to honor joy when it arrives, even in small, homemade ways.
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