For My Adrian John

My dearest Adrian John, my AJ, my Bujeyjey, my mahal ko, my anak ko,

When I think of you, I think of a thousand little moments that made up our life together—the moments that seemed so ordinary then, but have become some of the most precious memories I carry today.

I can still see your very first steps, those tiny little steps that made me so proud. And I will never forget the first time you called me “Mommy.” One little word, but it changed my whole world.

Our days were filled with simple routines that I never knew I would miss this much. Waking you up for school, getting you ready, driving you to school, and being there for all your school activities. I was the hands-on mom who wanted to know everything about your little world—even who your school crush was. You were so young, and I loved hearing all your little stories.

On my days off, you somehow became the one waking me up. Then there were our malling days, walking around together while you asked me to buy you another Spider-Man toy. Looking back, it was never really about the toy. It was about having you beside me.

I fed you, bathed you, carried you in my arms—and even when you became heavy, I still carried you whenever I could. You were my baby, and no weight could ever have made me want to put you down.

Birthdays, Christmases, holidays, and all the little occasions—we celebrated them together. But one birthday will always hold a special place in my heart: your 7th birthday, when it was just the two of us. Just Mommy and AJ. I wish I could go back to that day and stay there a little longer.

Some of my favorite memories weren’t celebrations at all. They were the little moments no one else would have thought twice about.

Whenever I was in the kitchen, you would walk in and call, “Mommy!” And I would look at you and say, “Who is this little creature?” Those few seconds were part of our own little language.

I called you AJ, Bujeyjey, mahal ko, anak ko, and you called me “Mommy mo.” Those names may sound like simple words to everyone else, but to me, they hold an entire world.

There are countless photos of you because I never seemed to have enough of them. I wanted to capture every smile, every expression, every stage of your childhood. Now those photographs mean more to me than I could ever explain.

I wanted to be present for you—in your classroom, at your activities, during your birthdays, and in the everyday moments in between. Being your mom was never something I took lightly. You were my world, and being there for you was where I wanted to be.

You even had me laughing with your big plans for the future. You once told me that one day you would have grandchildren, while I was still not done playing my Candy Crush game. I wish I could hear you say that again.

And then there was your singing—especially “The Power of Love.” I can still hear your little voice in my mind.

And your Tiger. That little one you couldn’t sleep without. Such a small part of your childhood, yet somehow I can still picture you with it.

These are the things that make it so difficult to explain what our bond was like. It wasn’t one particular moment. It was everything. It was the mornings, the school runs, the mall trips, the kitchen conversations, the birthdays, the hugs, the kisses, the laughter, the little names we called each other, and all the quiet moments that belonged only to us.

And then there is the one memory I wish I could change more than anything.

If I could go back in time, I would never have left you that night.

For the rest of my life, a part of me will carry the pain of knowing that you had to go through that experience without me there. There are no words big enough for the sorrow I carry as your mother. I wish I could turn back the clock, walk back through that door, and choose to stay with you.

I want to say I’m sorry, my son.

I am sorry for the one moment I cannot change, the one night I would give anything to rewrite. If love alone could turn back time, I would have found my way back to you.

And when the day comes that we see each other again, I hope with all my heart that you have already forgiven me.

Because if I were given that moment again, there would be no hesitation. I would choose you. I would stay with you. I would hold you close and never leave.

Since the day you left, there hasn’t been a single day when my eyes haven’t searched for you in my memories. My ears still hear your voice. My mind still goes to you every single day.

I miss your smile.
Your face.
Your voice.
Your hugs and kisses.
Your little footsteps.
Hearing you call me Mommy.
Calling you my AJ.

I miss everything about you.

Sometimes I wonder who you would be today. How tall you would be. What your voice would sound like now. What you would be doing, what you would love, and what kind of young man you would have become.

There are so many things I wish I could tell you. So many moments I wish I could share with you.

But one thing will never change:

You were loved every single day you were here, and you have never stopped being loved.

Seven years was never enough.

But in those seven years, you gave me a lifetime of memories.

You gave me the privilege of being your Mommy.

And I will carry that privilege, that love, and you with me for the rest of my life.

Until the day I see you again, my Bujeyjey, my mahal ko, my anak ko—

Forever my AJ.
Forever my little boy.
Forever my son.

Love,
Mommy