To The Yaya Whom I Loved Before
And will love forever
A yaya in the Philippines is generally a woman looking over a child. The most direct translation for yaya is “nanny;” it also means caretaker or auntie in Filipino. But to me, they’re so much more than that. To me, they’re family, friends, and some of the best people in the world.
There is a lot to the history of yayas; if you are reading this and are not from the Philippines, I would suggest you look into it a bit, but I don’t want to go deep into that now. I want to focus this post on one yaya I’ve had who is very special to me (as they all are). This post is dedicated to Yaya Lizette, my yaya of ten years, who passed away three years ago on December 24, 2018.
Dear Yaya,
You do not realize the kind of impact you have made on my life. I know I didn’t when you were still in it. I guess I never thought that one day you would be gone. It was just so natural for me to think that you would be with me forever– but how selfish was I to think that way? There’s so much I didn’t get to say to you... so here are some words that have never left my heart.
Yaya, I am sorry. I am sorry that I was such a jerk sometimes. For asking you for help with something without considering how tired your hands were. For saying that my outfits did not in fact look good because they were monochrome, or that my nail polish didn’t work just because my feet were puti. You left something in my heart that will remain forever. Thank you for being there for me when I had no friends and ate alone, and for conversing with me even when I was bad at speaking Filipino. Thank you for staying with me in Megamall when I ice-skated late on weekday nights. For eating bibingka with me. For going with me to faraway places. For using a wet towel to cool me down whenever I had a fever, for brushing my hair when I had lice, for rolling up my leotards just so I could dress up faster.
Yaya, you’re my first heartbreak. You are now not only no longer in my life, but away from earth itself... I would have cherished our moments together more, had I known you would leave. I hate that I can’t reach out to you right now, or call your name with the same certainty I had before, that your presence would come to me in a moment. I hate that I didn’t take more photos with you. I hate that I ever spelled your name wrong, that we didn’t make kwento to each other enough, or sing together more. I hate that I ever got mad at you. I hate that I didn’t mature earlier so that I could’ve been less bratty, or less entitled when I asked you for help with things I could have done on my own. I wish I helped you more. I wish I made things easier for you, the way you did for me. I hate that cancer reached you, I hate that you found out when it was too late, and I hate that I only found out when you passed away already. I wish I were there for you and took care of your health the way you took care of mine.
Yaya, you taught me kindness, patience, and strength. You were such a strong woman, and I underestimated that. I will look fondly on every moment I’ve spent with you and every memory printed on the items you’ve left behind. I will eat banana chips and bibingka and listen to Beyonce for you. A significant portion of my life is dedicated to you. I miss you so much. Thank you for everything.
Love, Ten
