I learned the truth about responsibilities when mom passed away

The true weight of adulthood and household management.

There was never a manual in our house. We didn’t need one because my mom was the original life hack. She was the smartest, most resourceful person I’ve ever known. She could fix a broken chair without a second thought and solve a complex math problem without reaching for a calculator. Growing up, our entire world was built on her decisions.

We leaned on her for everything. From the small daily purchases to the major life pivots, we lived in the glow of a light we didn’t know how to sustain ourselves. She wasn’t perfect. She could be emotional, irrational, and incredibly strict. But at the end of the day, she was always right. Sadly, for us to finally stand on our own, she had to leave us.

“Paano na lang kapag nauna akong nawala? Paano kayo?”

I used to hate that line. I’d dismiss it as a typical Pinoy mom’s way to guilt-trip us into listening. I didn’t realize she was actually prepping us for a void she knew we weren’t ready for. I guess that’s just how moms are. They worry about a future we can’t even see yet because we’re still struggling to live through the present.

We argued over almost everything, yet she was my best friend. My only true friend. She was the one person who would never betray me or leave me, even through the worst decisions I’ve made. I really thought I’d get to introduce her to the person I’d settle down with. I imagined her there when I walked down the aisle. If not that, I at least pictured taking care of her until she was old and gray. But at 26, the clock stopped.

I remember sitting outside the ICU with high hopes that she would make it through. But by the second day, I had taken it all in and was ready to let go. I guess that’s just how she raised me. She taught me to be the clearheaded one when things go south. When she finally passed, my dad broke down wondering how we’d get through it, while I was the one signing the death certificate. I guess that was the beginning of taking over what she left behind.

That was the moment I realized responsibility isn’t something you’re given; it’s something you’re forced into when the person who held it all together is gone. When her bright light was extinguished, I didn’t have the luxury of sitting in the dark. I had to become the candle to light our way through this darkness.

On the day she was brought to her final resting place, that was the only time I found myself freed from stoicism, as if that has made me matured enough. It was when everything finally sunk in. I cried hard because I realized she was never coming back, and the safety net we’ve always had was gone. That same month, I had to learn a lot. I had to figure out how to budget money, navigate the laws that govern estates, and even how to fix a broken pipe. I was suddenly managing small household chores and big life decisions all at once just to be ready for anything.

People always look for consolation when they see loss, but I can’t offer the standard platitudes. I know that losing someone is not “okay.” It is painful and it is a reality we all eventually have to live with. I still speak and react the same way, but I carry a different weight now. I learned to be responsible not because I was ready, but because I had to be. We never really move on from a loss. We only learn how to cope. Honestly, with this truth, I am not afraid of anything anymore.

Whenever I see younger friends or colleagues venting about a fight with their mom, I listen without judgment, but I offer a quiet warning. I tell them to listen and learn what they need to. Responsibility isn’t a switch you flip when you’re ready; it’s a muscle you build during those small, frustrating moments you’d rather avoid. One day, the person you argued with over the small things will be the same person you wish was there to help you decide on the big ones.

Take it from me as your “ate,” try to see those annoying check-in calls or the endless “sermons” for what they actually are. It could be that she is trying to hand you the invisible guide to survival before you’re forced to figure it out alone. Give her that sense of fulfillment that she has finally accomplished what she needed to. Answer the questions that you think are “paulit-ulit na lang,” and realize that by leaning into her “noise,” you’re actually learning how to handle the eventual silence. I promise you’ll be glad you stayed to learn the lessons when you’re the one left to make the calls.

 

 

I had to learn a lot. I had to figure out how to budget money, navigate the laws that govern estates, and even how to fix a broken pipe. I was suddenly managing small household chores and big life decisions all at once just to be ready for anything.

 

 

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