Behind the Struggles: A Story of Family and Dreams

In this unpredictable world, I was a child who learned about the hardships of life at an early age. Out of seven siblings, I’m the sixth—second to the youngest. My name is Lian, and this is my story. We lost our father, Bert, when we were very young. At that time, my mother, Wen, had just given birth to our youngest brother, Jr—he was only four months old. The only thing our father left him was his last gentle pinch on the nose. A week later, Father got sick and passed away. After that, my older brother Roger took on the role of being the man of the house. He went to the city to work and tried to send us money, even just a little. Mother, on the other hand, worked in the fields—plowing under the hot sun, even though she was a woman, just so we could harvest some rice. Before Mother left for the fields, she would leave us in the care of our older sister. “Liza, you’re the eldest for now. Take care of your siblings. Cook lunch, and call me when it’s ready,” she said. “yes po mama,” Liza replied. Our second eldest sister, Len, was studying in the city at the time, and our third sister, Liza, looked after us whenever Mother wasn’t around. One time, Liza brought us to a nearby mountain. As we watched planes pass by in the sky, she said, “Someday, I’ll ride one of those.” That moment opened my young mind—I was only three years old, but I felt like life was already teaching me lessons far beyond my age. Our fourth and fifth siblings, Marge and JN, were in charge of taking care of our goats and other animals. But a year later, our family began to fall apart. We were sent to live with different relatives, working for them just to have something to eat. We experienced every kind of hardship—being ordered around, getting scolded, going to bed hungry, and waking up tired. Another reason our lives became more difficult was because of our eldest sister, Len. Our mother thought she was still studying in the city, but in truth, she had run away with her boyfriend at only 15 years old. Mother found out when Auntie Rose told her the truth. Shocked and furious, Mother rushed to the city. When she arrived at our aunt’s house, she saw Len and her boyfriend sleeping next to each other. Mother lost control—she hit Len with a broom and a piece of bamboo. Len ran. When the boy tried to stop Mother, he was hit too. They both fled, and by the time Len returned to the province, she was already pregnant. Not long after, Mother left for Cebu to work and help provide for us. The rest of us were left with relatives. After a few months, Len came back with her boyfriend and decided to bring some of us to the city. Not all of us went—only I did. Jr, who was only two years old then, called all of us “Mother.” He stayed behind with Marge, who raised him lovingly until he learned how to speak. Even then, my mindset hadn’t changed. I kept dropping out of school—not because I was lazy, but because I was afraid. Afraid of being bullied, laughed at, and looked down on. I would rather help harvest corn than face the cruel stares of my classmates. All I ever wanted was to have something to eat each day. But through all of that, my mother remained my only source of strength and hope. I called for her whenever I got sick. I remember crying as I lay on a big rock beside our house. Every time a plane passed by overhead, I’d look at the sky and whisper, “Maybe that’s Mother… maybe she’s coming home.” And in the middle of my silent tears, I’d speak to the wind: “Mother, please come home… take us with you.” Hunger became normal. Tears came daily. But deep in my heart, I held onto one simple hope: that someday, Mother would return—and with her, happiness would come back too.