From A Sister To A Brother, Ten Years Later

Ten years ago, on an early evening not very different from today, our lives were changed forever by the loss of our eldest son, Migi.

Much has been written and said about that life-changing event, the nigtmare that you wold not wish, even on your worst enemy. The loss of a loved one changes you forever. The loss of a child leaves a mark on your heart and soul, so deep, that ten years later, as you draw a finger across the wound, you can still feel the ridges of the scar, and you cannot help but remember.

But today, ten years later, you are able to remember with thankfulness, for the brief time given to you, to parent a little boy who filled your life with great love and joy for four years. Our lives have been forever changed by your loss, Migi, and in the process, so many lives, ironically, have been made better by the searing pain of your departure.

Last night, I caught P, holed up in one of the rooms of our house, crying buckets while scribbling away on a notebook. She said that she would share its contents with me today. I thought that this was one anniversary where I would be able to get through the day without tears, but no, here I am at 7PM, crying buckets myself as I read this. Today, I sent out messages to special friends and family who had helped us navigate the journey this last decade. Now, with my daughter's permission, I share with you her beautiful memories of her eldest brother and how loss can impact a heart's child, just as deeply, perhaps even more than we as adults feel it. And how, in the process, the gift of loss is that it blesses you with a heart and mind wiser beyond that of your peers, and an unshakeable faith that no matter what happens, God will see you through.

Dear You.

I will admit I have absolutely no idea about what possessed me to write this letter. I thought that maybe it was because I’ve been so caught up in my vulnerability- I am a teenager after all. But it wasn’t that. It’s tomorrow, and my realization that after so long - there are still so many things that I haven’t told you.

So forgive me, your emotionally caught up sister, for waiting so long to tell you these things. For never taking a few precious moments to look upward and express the things I’ve always been meaning to say. But don’t get me wrong, I never forgot you. Not a single day goes by when you don’t cross my mind. In fact, it seems like so many of the small things I encounter on a day to day basis become catalysts for this overflow of memories of you.

I’m actually writing this from what used to be our old playroom- do you remember it the way I do? The blue carpet that always smelled like our dog, Casper; the yellow Little Tykes chairs with the matching table-Do you remember how I tried to teach you how to color within the lines one day and you ended up coloring the table? Those marks, they’re still there. So are the dinosaur stickers we stuck on the headboard of the Ikea bed, those glow in the dark stars in the bathroom door.. They’re all still around, little reminders of you. I still sleep in that bedroom we used to share. You may not recognize it, with the purple closets and the shelves dripping with books, but it still that same room to me. The one we used to build forts in with the yayas. The same one where you took your favorite mini golf club and whacked me on the head with (Though of course I’ve long forgiven you for that!). And the same one you walked with me to that night it went brown out and we were in mom and dad’s room. I was scared, so scared, that someone would just reach out from the dark and grab me! But your less afraid, more mature self at age three took me by the hand and said, “Ate, don’t be so silly!”. Without you, I never would have been able to change into my pajamas that night! But on a more serious note, each time I remember that moment I gain a little more faith in those circumstances where I am so filled with doubt. I may not be able to see where exactly I am going, but I have come to realize I’m never really alone.

So thank you. For giving me some of the sweetest, most meaningful memories any older sister could ask for, even in the short, four years we had together. It taught me quite possibly more than I’ve even learned in my 15 years of being in school. You taught me the concept of being a good best friend-you were mine. It wasn’t about the amount of time we spent together, but how we spent that time. You made every minute, every second count for me. Even in those moments where you would have attacks and palpitations - I was never really afraid, or even traumatized. I grew to have this sense of responsibility and care that I only show towards those who mean most to me in life. I grew to learn how to empathize with people in situations not everyone can understand. I learned how to fight hardest for those closest to my heart- even if that means I can get hurt in the process. You also prepared me for another big role I’m going to have to deal with for the rest of my life- being a excellent older sister.

You never met Leon. It’s one of the things that actually saddens me most- I can imagine life being so much crazier if I had the two of you around, driving me nuts. But I guess the Big Guy up there had other plans.


He’s not you, this Leon. He came into my life so soon after I lost you- but I never, not for a single second ever thought he would, or could replace you. He’s the smartest, geekiest, and most entertaining ball of energy of a brother any one could ask for. He’s very different from you, my calm, serene brother with the sad eyes, but I love you both the same. I just wish you had met him. This insane little boy who will dare to cut his own hair to look like the avatar (I bet you were whispering in his ear and egging him on!), but is sweet and honest enough to call any boy that hurts his sister a “provoking ass”. You two were parts of my life at completely different times, but without either of you, I would feel incomplete. He has always considered you kuya though. I know that it was you tickling him as a baby, being that angel that appeared in his dreams at night, leaving that permanent smile on his face. He remembers you that way.

I guess I’ve expressed my gratitude, now I think it’s time I tell you that thing I never told you enough when I still could. The last time you told me this was that night you called me after your surgery, you remember that? If only I knew that would be the last time I would ever talk to you again, then maybe I wouldn’t have run off to watch Madeline so eagerly that night. But I realize now that God had a reason for even that.

I love you, Miguel, I really do. Not did, but do. I loved you for who you were in my life as a child- my brother with the special heart. I love you for being the person who I believe has made the biggest impact on who I am today. You taught me a lot while you were still around. I love you because even today, you serve as one of my biggest inspirations. I love you because even if you may not be around physically, to say, pick me up from school or give me a hug when I’m lonely- but you are with me every single minute of every single day. I’m never really alone, am I. I may not know what the future holds for me, or what to do the exact moment I am faced with a crisis. But I live each day with the knowledge that there is still that one person out there who will take me by the hand and take me in the right direction of every dark moment. Thank you for being my guardian angel.

I know this has come a decade late, but I believe you were there at that moment I felt like writing this. You’re probably even reading this over my shoulder- I hope with a smile. Always know that your ate’s love for you is boundless Migi- it goes beyond the distance between the earth and the skies.  Happy 10th Birthday in Heaven, I hope you’re having a blast with the dinosaurs. I’ll see you someday.
♥ your ate, pia

Migi's 14th Birthday In Heaven

My son Migi marks his 14th birthday in heaven on Thursday, February 21, 2008. He has been living there, with the heavenly Father, for close to nine years now.

"Does it become easy after nine years?" Many people have asked me this question. I choose to answer the question with both a yes and a no.

Yes, because after nine years you do not cry as much, but no, because you continue to remember. There is not a day that goes by when you do not think about the little boy who filled your life with love and laughter but was gone to soon.

Yes, because God is gracious and merciful and over the last nine years He has given me and my family the peace that passes all understanding. No, because there will always be that void in your heart that no one else, but God can fill.

Yes, because out of his loss, Migi's Corner was borne and because of it many children now have a place of solace while they themselves heal. No, because with the opening of each new project you relive all over the again, the reason why the project came to be in the first place, and so it always is an emotional and weepy time.

Yes, because in spite of losing one son, it is like we have gained many children. Migi continues to live on in the heart of every child who has ever spent time in any of the 14 corners now in existence.

But God is all-wise and all-knowing and ever gracious because He always sends his comfort, and allows a message to come down from heaven every year in the week leading to his birthday, since Migi left us 10 years ago.

On several years it was the opening of a corner, timed perfectly with a birthday.

On another it was receiving a whole box of goody bags from a donor (who did not know it was his birthday) with the words "Happy Birthday!" emblazoned on it.

This year it was the mural on the latest Migi's Corner, a joint project between our foundation and my Maryknoll High School Batch '82. The project is a daycare to be used by the children of the employees of Miriam College. Integrated is a breastfeeding corner that will be made open to the teachers and the single mothers who study at the college.

All of Migi's Corners have murals that depict Migi and his favorite dinosaurs in various settings - the sea, the park, in a forest, on a beach, under the sea. Yesterday, as I stood to gaze at the just completed mural - painted lovingly by my friends Fen, Vena, Raf and some of their other friends from U.P. and UST Fine Arts - I could not help but smile and sigh at the way God works. Uknown to them, at the time that they painted the mural, I had just completed a children's story, for release, later this year, about our family's experience. I excerpt here a portion of that story...

Migi was smaller than other kids his age but he was way smarter than most other four year olds. He could not run as fast, or climb trees, but he loved to read a lot and he enjoyed telling stories. He loved reading about dinosaurs and knew all their names by heart. Migi could name you all the dinosaurs in the whole wide world in a flash!

One time, mommy bought him a sticker book of dinosaurs and he stuck them all over our bedroom….

On his bed…on the chairs…on his cabinets… his bedsheets and on the walls.


Migi and I liked to play a special game. Before entering our room, or before he would let me pass through the door, he would place his arm across and say, “What’s the magic word Ate?” And I would say, “God is good all the time!” and then he would open the gate, and let me in. Oh how we loved to play all sorts of games!

And here is the mural...


So my answer to the question above -- no, because a mother never forgets her child, but yes, because He always sends his comfort and because, in spite of everything, God is good all the time.

A Valentine In Heaven

Our beloved pastor Kevin Alamag and his wife Bel were killed in an accident this morning on Commonwealth Avenue. I just got the news an hour ago from a good friend and we were both shocked and saddened by the news.

Pastor Kevin and his wife are only in their 30s and they leave behind two children, both under the age of 12. Though I am sure that Pastor Kevin and Bel are now happy in their real Home, face to face with the heavenly Father, I cannot help but feel and be sad for their kids. To lose one parent is tough enough, more so at a very young age, how much more both?

This type of loss can be very traumatic and so I pray that the manner by which the news was broken to them was done in a very loving and supportive way. Please include the Alamag's in your prayer time today and over the next few days. May the children find comfort in God's love and may they find the courage and strength that they need to navigate the long journey ahead. We find comfort in knowing that God looks with favor upon orphans and widows. Please think of them during your prayer time. Thank you.

Barack Obama On Faith

"...it's an ongoing process for all of us in making sure that we are living out our faith every day. And, you know, it's something that I try to pray on at the beginning of every day and at the end of every day, whether I'm living my life in a way that's consistent with my faith." - Barack Obama in a Beliefnet.com interview

If I were American I would probably vote for him.

So many criticisms have been hurled at Barack Obama, specifically about his faith life. To set the record straight, he has been quite proactive in meeting with the press and explaining his side. Here are a few of his insights on the faith and religion in general.

His interview with Beliefnet.com and more recent, a Q&A with Christianity Today

Understanding Grief In Toddlers

Will Matilda ever remember Heath after he has long been gone?

Reading this entry on the Babyrazzi.com website made me stop, and reflect, looking into my own life and into my files (I teach a course on grief at the Ateneo De Manila) to answer this question that many people have wondered about since the day Heath died.

The very first question you would most likely as is -- Can a child this young understand the loss? My answer to that is, yes, they may not be able to fully comprehend it at this stage but they are able to feel it at his point, perhaps just as deeply as an older child or adult would but they will not be able to fully express the depth of their pain. Children this age do not yer understand the permanence of death and therefore will probably ask time and again, from out of the blue -- Where's daddy? or Where's mommy?. The important thing for the parent or caregiver to do is not to reply to the child with euphemisms by saying that he or she is asleep or that he or she in in heaven, or worse, say that God needed another angel. For a child this age, you can simply say that "Daddy died." and try to gently explain, in the simplest terms possible why he is not coming back.

Children also grieve in a cyclical pattern. Meaning, the grief or loss will revisit them at various stages in their developmental process and as they remember, there will be more questions because they are slowly inderstanding and coming to terms with the loss. A child, like Matilda, who lost her father at two, may feel the grief all over again at age seven, perhaps on an occasion such as Father's Day, and have new questions that she will want to ask of her surviving parent. That same issue may be raised again at age 12 or 13, upon an important milestone in the child's life, like a graduation, with even more probing questions, and then again in late adolescence. The most important thing to remember is to reply to the questions patiently, in a manner appropriate to the age of the child, to the degree with which they can comprehend it.

Children grieve differently from adults. They may appear okay on the surface but hurt deep inside. They may be sad one minute and playing the next. Play is one way of coping up to a certain age. Being the surviving parent, do not be afraid to grieve in front of your child. Of course hysteria is not encouraged but it's okay to cry in front of your children. That way, they will understand your pain and it can be a venue for you to share memories of your departed loved one.

It is also very important to have a support group available -- for yourself, as a parent and for the grieving child. You will not be able to answer all your child's questions and since you yourself are grieving too, it is very important to get some outside help. Teresa Vorsheck, director of the Highmark Caring Place, a center for grieving children, adolescents and their families in Pennsylvania, says the most important thing of all is just to listen and to be willing to admit you don't have the answers. For example, if a child asks where Mommy or Daddy is, and you don't know what to say, it's OK to say you don't know. If you come from a strong spiritual belief, that can help with the answers, but if you don't, don't be afraid to ask the child, "What do you think?" Try to find the answers together.

"As parents, when a child is hurting, we often feel we need to have the answers and to fix it, but there's no fix for this other than to bring the person back, and we can't do that," Vorsheck says. "This is a part of life, although a very difficult part, and we need to approach it with honesty."