We often think we know the people closest to us, but, sometimes, life has a way of surprising you by how many more facets of an individual we have still yet to discover.
When my mom, Divina Gracia, passed away last March 29, 2024, I was overwhelmed with grief. And as my family sorted through her belongings, we uncovered a treasure trove of memories that revealed who she was before she was our mother.
Black-and-white images of her childhood showed her athletic capabilities—she was a cheerdancer and a basketball player with a fiery school spirit and love for her alma mater, St. Stephen’s High School.
We also came across photos of her traveling the world with my grandma. Apparently, my mom was an encyclopedia salesman and an insurance broker, and she was able to use her personally earned income to fund her vacations with her mom.
However, one of our favorite discoveries was a box that overflowed with love letters from my dad—a side of our parents entirely unknown to us. From their courtship days to their early years of marriage, we were never told of their love story.
As far as I could remember, my mom was always our superwoman. She did most of the domestic chores herself, and took pride in doing even the menial housework. My dad, on the other hand, focused on building a secure future, most of his time dedicated to making a living for our family. I realize I blocked out most of my childhood when my parents separated.
It was the summer of 2002 when my mom moved out. I remember feeling devastated, but I tucked those emotions away until I was forced to confront them again with her recent passing. At the time, I was just nine years old, trying to cope as best I could alongside my three siblings. While my dad provided for us, he was more of an authoritarian figure, and we often had to navigate life's challenges on our own.
For the next thirteen years, I primarily knew my mom as the strong, single parent who would touch base with us and take us out every so often. Thankfully, by 2015, she moved back in, and we were overjoyed to have her safe and sound at home again. While we all lived together, my mom and dad's relationship was mostly civil, resembling that of old acquaintances.
Unveiling the countless priceless keepsakes in the form of love letters, each illustrating a love story older than us, felt like unmasking sides of our parents and our roots that we had never seen before.
As we looked through albums and albums of photos, a different side of my dad emerged from his reminisces. He recounted fiercely wooing my mom, overcoming rivals to win her heart, “Your mom was an insurance agent, so I bought 300,000 pesos worth of insurance from her so that she’d visit my office and we’d get to talk one-on-one!”
He also knew how passionate my mom was in her Christian faith, “so I asked if she could take me to church with her, and of course, as a born again Christian, she couldn’t say no!” They would have lunch after church, and, for Dad, that was considered a victory. “All her other suitors didn’t have the guts to ask her out, so they’d just send her letters. I was strategic!”
Because there were no smart phones or emails yet at the time, my dad would send her postcards from his travels in 1988, and continued to write her love letters filled with playful endearments until they got married in March 1989.
As we teased my dad about his past adoration for "Vina," a nickname we never heard him use, we witnessed a depth of love that transcended time in his nostalgic narration.
It’s too bad they were not able to make the relationship work. Regardless, amid the pain and the separation, there was an undeniable love that persevered. My dad, despite their differences, actually stayed legally married to Mom throughout all these years. He took care of her funeral arrangements, from the wake to her cremation, as well as securing her resting place— honoring her memory with the respect she deserved.
Life is messy, and love stories aren't always linear. My parents' love story, though imperfect, taught us a profound lesson: forgiveness and love, even though unseen, can endure. While theirs may not have had a storybook ending, the love they shared—whispered in faded letters and treasured memories—is a testament to a love that never died.
Divina Gracia, my strong and remarkable mom, possessed a zest for life that shone through her youthful adventures. We will forever cherish her memory and the love she brought into our lives. May she rest in peace with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.