〔 YEAR 1999 〕
And when life keeps giving you reasons to smile, you begin to believe that maybe things will remain that way forever. That perhaps the difficult parts have already passed you by. But life does not work like that. When it gives you joy, it quietly prepares something that will eventually make you frown.
Because I never imagined that I would return to the Philippines during the summer break.
It had been three years since I last saw the place where I grew up and spent my childhood. In my mind, everything had remained frozen in time. The same houses, the same streets, the same familiar corners where memories quietly lived.
But when I arrived, I realized time had not been standing still.
I visited my alma mater first. I lingered outside the gates longer than I intended, watching students pass through as if I might somehow see my younger self among them. After that, I stopped by a few places I used to visit during special occasions. Restaurants that once felt special. Streets that once felt enormous when I was younger.
Mike drove me around while I simply looked out the window.
At first I was only observing the surroundings. The newly painted houses, the small stores that had appeared where empty lots used to be. But the longer I looked, the more something began to settle inside me.
Things had changed.
Even though I knew time was passing back in Germany, it never felt real until that moment. Until I saw the proof with my own eyes.
That was when my eyes began to sting.
The tears came slowly at first, and then they refused to stop. Because along with the memories came something I had been burying deep inside myself for years.
Guilt.
While I had been remembering the good moments of my life abroad, I had forgotten what I left behind. I left my parents in the Philippines without even telling them whether I was still alive. Without letting them know what had become of their daughter.
I had gone to Heidelberg to pursue medicine because I believed the four years I spent in La Salle were not enough for me to gain the knowledge I wanted. I convinced myself it was the right decision. That I would earn my medical license, work in a hospital for a few years despite never truly loving the idea of becoming a doctor, and then eventually pursue research once my career stabilized.
In my mind, everything had been carefully planned.
And somewhere along that path, I met the love of my life.
Eventually I asked Mike to drive me to my old house. When we arrived, I told him to wait for me. My luggage remained in the trunk while I approached the gate.
Even the neighborhood had changed. It looked a little cleaner now, though the faint smell of sewage still lingered in the air. I winced slightly as I stepped closer.
The gate was locked.
I stood on my toes and looked through the bars, expecting to see my parents or maybe a relative inside the house. But there was no one.
I was about to call out when someone called my name first.
When I turned around, I recognized one of our neighbors. We were never particularly close, but I remembered seeing her often when I was younger. She looked at me carefully before asking if I was Kimberly.
I nodded and asked where my parents were.
Do you know what she told me?
My father had been admitted to the hospital. My family had fallen deep into debt because of the medical bills, and my mother barely stayed at home anymore because she had been constantly by his side.
I think that was the moment when the stress truly began to settle in.
I did not stay in the neighborhood for long. After asking which hospital my father had been admitted to, Mike immediately drove me there.
It was a public hospital. Old, crowded, and filled with people moving through narrow hallways. Mike helped me search through the wards until we finally found them.
The first person I saw was my father.
He looked so different from the last time I saw him. His hair was gone, and the wrinkles on his face had deepened. He lay quietly on the bed with his eyes closed, his body looking smaller than I remembered.
My vision blurred with tears.
Then I saw my mother.
She was standing beside his bed, about to step away when she noticed me. Our eyes met.
My mom.
Her hair now carried many strands of gray. Years ago I would pluck them out with tweezers whenever I noticed them. But now there were too many to count.
She looked exhausted.
I cried as I called out to her.
But she did not hug me. She did not greet me.
Instead, she walked past me without a word.
Startled, I immediately followed her. I kept calling her name as we walked through the hallway, ignoring the curious looks from people around us. She did not stop until we stepped outside the hospital building.
I began explaining everything right away. At that moment, I thought it was the right thing to do. I told her about my life in Germany. My studies. The years that had passed since I left.
She only stared at me with a blank expression.
Then I began apologizing.
I apologized for being selfish, for forgetting that I still had a family here who had probably been worried sick about me. I asked for her forgiveness for becoming an ungrateful daughter.
I do not even know if she truly listened.
When she finally spoke, I felt a brief sense of relief. For a moment I thought she had accepted my apology.
But she did not talk about that at all.
Instead, she congratulated me. She said I had grown up well even without her and my father around.
We spoke for a while after that, though most of the conversation was simply me sharing what I had gone through. Then, without thinking, I mentioned my relationship with Éli.
That small detail changed everything.
Her eyebrows dipped sharply, and the expression on her face made fear crawl up my spine. Suddenly she began blaming me for almost every misfortune that had happened since I left.
She called me selfish. Ungrateful. A daughter who only thought about herself.
Then she told me that I had to break up with my girlfriend.
According to her, loving another woman was a sin. She said my relationship with Éli would lead me straight to hell if I refused to end it, and that Éli was influencing me into becoming someone evil.
I could not bear hearing it anymore.
But my mother kept speaking. She said she would tell my father. She even mentioned disowning me if I refused to obey.
So much for all the effort I made to become the daughter they wanted.
I was hurt, but at the same time I kept reminding myself that they had been hurt before because of me.
I did not know what I was supposed to do.
My mother stepped closer and grabbed my arms, forcing me to look at her while she continued speaking through tears. Then Mike appeared outside the building.
Without saying a word, he pulled me away and hurried me toward the parking lot while my mother followed behind us. I was sobbing as she tried to hold onto my arm while Mike urged me to get into the car.
Why was I crying?
What was I even doing?
After that, I canceled my plans of staying home and took the earliest flight back to Germany. Before I left, Mike paid for my father's hospital bills and deposited a large sum of money for my family. I promised myself I would repay him someday.
But my thoughts kept returning to my mother and the things she said.
When I arrived back at my apartment in Heidelberg, I sent an email to Éli asking for a breakup.
It did not end well.
At first she did not reply. Then Edward asked how things were going between us, and I realized she had probably asked him to check on me. I gave him so many explanations that even I knew I sounded like I was lying.
Eventually Éli replied.
Her message was short.
Just one word.
Okay.
That was when the grieving truly began.