This Mother’s Day is the first I will spend without my mother, Erlinda Robes Ilagan—and the weight of her absence is something I carry quietly, heavily.
At A Glance
- This Mother's Day is the first I will spend without my mother, Erlinda Robes Ilagan—and the weight of her absence is something I carry quietly, heavily.
She passed away in June 2024, and I still find myself wrestling with the reality that she is no longer physically with me. But in truth, she never really left. She continues to live in the way I carry myself, in my choices, in my passions, and most especially, in the way I remember her: my forever muse.
Growing up in Manila, with long summers spent in her beloved hometown in Bulacan, I was shaped by her presence. Her Bulakeña elegance—graceful, reserved, family-centered, and with an eye for life’s finer things—deeply influenced the person I am today. And it was from her that I inherited my sense of style.
She loved to dress up—not for others, but for herself. On ordinary days, she wore breezy tops, crisp tailored pants, and her signature comfortable flats, always paired with minimalist jewelry from her own collection or heirloom pieces from my grandmother. For formal occasions, her style embraced subtle grandeur—often a touch of Filipiniana or a custom gown, and always refined, never over the top.
Bags and shoes were her indulgences. She gravitated toward classic leather handbags in neutral tones—elegant, structured, and timeless. Her footwear was always chosen with care: stylish yet comfortable, whether sleek flats for the day or tasteful kitten heels for the evening. She never needed anything loud—her understated style and graceful presence said it all.
In recent years, some of our fondest memories were made far from home, traipsing across Europe in spring or fall. One time, she brought along a makeup artist-turned-hairstylist, ensuring she looked her best even while strolling through Marienplatz in Munich or taking in the fairy-tale charm of Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria. She looked regal wherever we went—her beauty was timeless.
These trips were captured mostly with me taking her photo next to a flower or within a garden. We would always stop whenever she spotted a bloom—but especially if it was one of her favorites like stargazers, peonies, orchids, and the like. She would move closer to admire it, inhale its fragrance, and delight in its colors. It became a ritual, one that spoke to her innate connection with beauty. And this is how I forever remember her—the most beautiful in my life.
I often think of how my father, Rey Aquino Ilagan, was completely enamored by her from the beginning. She was, after all, a beauty queen in her youth, a title she wore with grace and humility. But beyond the titles and the accolades, what made her unforgettable was her heart—loving and infinitely generous.
As I write this with a lump in my throat, I know that grief is the price of deep love. And while this first Mother’s Day without her feels unbearably quiet, I choose to fill the silence with gratitude—for the memories, the lessons, the legacy of elegance and strength she left me.
Happy Mother’s Day, mommy. You are deeply missed, endlessly loved, and forever remembered.