The old lady lived alone in the old house, outside a big storm was coming, the wind was howling coldly, Near dawn, the wind stopped but disaster struck
That night, the Central Philippines was windy. The radio continuously predicted that a big storm would hit at dawn. In the small coastal village of Leyte, everyone was busy tying up the roof, tying up the corrugated iron roof, and cleaning up the yard.

Only Lola Maria’s house, the roof was old, the walls were peeling and patchy, everyone looked worried. Her children and grandchildren all worked far away in Manila, only coming back two or three times a year. She lived alone, alone in the house she had been attached to all her life.

Feeling sorry, a few neighbors ran over to help. They rearranged the small altar, tied up the porch, and told her to go to the house next door if the wind was too strong. But she just smiled, her voice trembling:
— “Matanda na ako, my child. Whatever happens, we’ll just stay here.”

Stormy Night

As the night fell, the wind howled. The coconut tree in the yard swayed, the tin roof creaked. The old woman sat huddled in the corner of the house, her hands holding the rosary beads, her eyes looking out the door as if waiting for her children to return.

Near dawn, when the storm had temporarily calmed down, a sudden violent tornado swept through. In the blink of an eye, the roof was blown off, the old, dilapidated cement walls could not bear it and collapsed. Lola Maria had not yet run when a large wall collapsed, blocking her frail body.

The next morning

The whole neighborhood was huddled in their houses, no one knew what had happened. Only in the morning, when the wind had died down, did the neighbors come to visit. They were stunned to see the floor in disarray, buried in bricks and tiles.

After digging for a long time, they choked up and discovered that Lola Maria had passed away quietly, under the rubble of her own house.

Her heart-rending cries echoed throughout the poor neighborhood. Everyone felt regretful, because just last night they had told each other they would come over to see her in the morning, but it was too late. The children and grandchildren in Manila heard the news and rushed back, tears streaming down their faces, but it was all too late.

Leaving alone

The dilapidated house now had only a small, patchy yard left. People had built a temporary roof to prepare for her funeral. In the cold wind that still smelled of mud, sorrow crept into each look, each whisper:
“Lola left alone… just like she had been waiting for her children and grandchildren to return for so many years.”

In Manila, amidst the narrow streets flooded with rain, the phone rang continuously. Lola Maria’s children and grandchildren received the bad news:
— “Nanay… is gone. The storm destroyed the house. The neighborhood is mourning for her.”

The whole family was stunned. The eldest son, Ernesto, dropped the phone and could only bow his head and cry:
— “We promised to visit our mother, but…”

No one expected that this return trip would be to take her to her final resting place.

The next day, buses from Manila rolled, carrying children and grandchildren to the coastal village of Leyte. The road was muddy after the storm, the wind was still howling.

When they got out of the car, they choked up seeing the devastated yard, the house now just a pile of rubble. On the ground, a temporary shelter had been erected, inside was a rustic wooden coffin, covered with a white cloth.

Crying broke out, tearing the gloomy atmosphere.

The youngest granddaughter hugged the coffin, choking:
— “Lola, I just called and promised to come visit you this Tet… Why can’t you wait any longer?”

In the makeshift tent, Ernesto sat down on the ground, holding his head. Tears mixed with mud on his face:
— “For years I’ve been busy making money, thinking that sending a little money back would be enough. But Mom doesn’t need money, she just needs us to be by her side. But…”

The second daughter, Elena, choked up and continued:
— “Mom is old and weak and still lives alone. We know, but no one is willing to sacrifice a little time to come back. And now, there’s no time to even say goodbye.”

The sound of crying echoed throughout the neighborhood. The neighbors quietly wiped away their tears, because they understood that, for a mother, happiness is not the money her children send, but the days when she can hear her children and grandchildren chirping in the house.

That afternoon, the drizzle returned. The crowd silently saw Lola Maria off to the small cemetery at the end of the village. On the flooded roads, each step was heavy with regret.

The coffin was lowered into the grave. Ernesto trembled and dropped the first handful of dirt, tears streaming down his face:
— “Mom, I’m sorry. I will never forgive myself in this life.”

The grandchildren stood around, their hands trembling as they placed white flowers, their faces blurred with tears. Their cries mixed with the sound of the rain, like a choked farewell.

That evening, when the funeral had subsided, the children and grandchildren sat together on the old ground. There was no longer a house, only a muddy yard.

The youngest grandson said softly:
— “I remember when I was little, Lola used to sit on the porch singing lullabies. I promised to bring my wife and children back for Grandma to see… But now…”

No one answered. Everyone just sat silently, letting the cold wind blow through, carrying the smell of mud and endless sorrow.

In the darkness, the villagers whispered:
“Lola Maria left alone… just like she has been waiting for her children and grandchildren to return for so many years.”

That whisper echoed, like a sad song reminding everyone: there are waitings that can never be completed, and there are tears that only fall when it is too late.