Ever since I was little, there was always a pair of hands that did everything for me–ones that packed my lunch, signed my permission slips, dried my tears and still found a way to tuck me in at night. My world was shaped by one voice that answered every question and one presence that filled every empty space and because of her, I grew up never feeling like someone was missing; as she made sure there was nothing left to miss.
Yet, despite the weight of these responsibilities, I never heard her complain that it was hard. I never saw her flinch at the word "single" or shrink beneath the weight of what people assumed that label meant. Instead, she simply kept moving: steady, purposeful, and unapologetic. To her, that title was never a label to be pitied; it was proof of everything she had already survived and a testament to the life she chose to build.
That same quiet resilience followed her wherever she went. At work, she is the person people turn to without thinking twice–reliable, composed, someone whose word carries weight. But she never left that strength at the office door. It came home with her, sat at the dinner table with us, and stayed even on the nights when I could tell she was tired down to her very bones.
At home, she was no less remarkable. She cooked meals that felt like warmth on a plate, planned our lives with careful intention, and poured herself fully into everything she touched; a true jack-of-all-trades who never made it look like a burden.
And there were moments when her composed, commanding presence made her seem difficult to approach but that exterior was simply the armor of a woman who protects what she loves. Beneath all that strength lies a heart that quietly teaches everyone around her to be kind, compassionate, humble, and empathetic.
Looking back, she was always enough–more than enough–as she filled every role with a seamless blend of grace and grit. Because of her, I am who I am today and every value I hold, every bit of strength I carry — I learned it all from her, my superhero, my teacher, and my constant inspiration to keep going.
And somewhere along the way, I came to a realization. She was never really doing this alone: she always had me watching, learning, and loving her every step of the way. She was never "single" in the way the world defines it. She was always whole, and in her wholeness, she made me feel whole, too.
Written by Ashe Marquez, Insight PH
Ashe Marquez, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
