What Is Grief if Not Love Persevering?
Why one line from episode eight of WandaVision has become a defining moment of the series
And helped me cope with the unthinkable loss of my mother’s death.
Wanda: It’s just like this wave washing over me again and again. It knocks me down, and when I try to stand up, it just comes for me again. And I can’t… It’s gonna drown me.
Vision: No. No, Wanda.
Wanda: How do you know?
Vision: Because it can’t be all sorrow, can it? I’ve always been alone, so I don’t feel the lack. It’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve never experienced loss because I’ve never had a loved one to lose. What is grief, if not love persevering?
I haven’t watched an episode of WandaVision, but the line from episode eight has started a conversation both positive and negative on social media and offline.
The world needed to hear these seven words, and I needed to hear them. As my mother passed away on February 2, 2021, I am still grieving over her death, and these words have comforted me.
As I grieve, I continue to love my mom. And from these words from Vision, my love continues to persevere.
The world that we live in now is a different world. A world still grappling with a virus that has already killed 2. 67 million lives. Many of whom died alone, many of whom had families who could not bury their dead the way they would have if their loved one didn’t die from Covid-19.
Why One line from a hit TV show is helping people deal with their own grief
Grief is the ache of longing for what we’ve lost. Grief is the regret that the things we say and do are never enough. Grief is the fear that we’re not good enough. Grief is whether we can go on, but most importantly: grief is love persevering.
What is grief, if not love persevering?
These seven words helped me and are helping millions around the world deal with their own grief.
It has been 44 days since my mom passed away. It was on February 2, 2021, that my mom died.
It is still hard to say it, hard to believe that it is true, and yet it is; she is no longer here.
Her death is beautiful. My mom died beautifully.
Someday I would be able to write about the lessons I have learned from her after her death.
I want to talk about my grief.
My mom has been a dialysis patient for seven years. I know this day would come, and yet when it did happen. It still caught me off guard. A big part of it is how I viewed my mother’s passing as a story of love, how she was given by God or the Universe the privilege to co-design her death. She was given the time to say her goodbyes. She was able to tell each one of us how much she loves us.
Grief is a process
I feel blessed that I didn’t have to go through losing my mom in 2020, as the year alone carried a lot of weight on our shoulders. There was already too much to process that year, and grief is something I can never wish for anyone. But millions have died, and families are left to deal with grief differently.
My mom didn’t have Covid-19. She didn’t die in the hospital, and she didn’t die alone.
Our family was able to bury her the way she should be buried. We were able to celebrate her life. We were able to honor her death and for her favorite great-grandchild to be there at her wake and burial and be able to say his last goodbyes to my mom, who, like us, calls her Nanay (MOM).
Nanay has shown courage in her final days. She is everything Maya Angelou said:
Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. We can’t be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest.
My mom is kind, true, merciful, generous, honest, and loving.
I wasn’t always easy to love, and yet Mom never gave up on me. In our broken pieces, we found each other, and in her final breath, through you, I am whole again.
The first month after my mom passed
In the month that followed her death, I wrote these words on Facebook;
It still feels odd, you, not being around.
I want to tell you about the many firsts; the first night you didn’t ask us not to leave you by your side, we had a few hours of sleep the first night.
The first meal without you, the first coffee without you, the first time I laid eyes on you at the wake.
The first time I saw Tatay (DAD), I asked Ate and Bella if they are ok? , the first time a friend hugged me.
And the saddest of all, your first birthday that we have to celebrate without you.
There are countless firsts, Nanay, too many to write them all down.
Not all are sad; some are happy firsts. The first Sunday lunch with Tatay, the first time we all laughed at MatMat.
Mine are more personal. The first Tuesday we didn’t have to go to the hospital, the first haircut, the first sleepover with a friend, the first get-together with friends.
The first bottle of wine, and again there are so many firsts.
I know this is only the first of many when I write you letters and tell you what has been happening.
But I do really look forward to the day when I can finally see you again. Because when that happens, I will have a new list of firsts, your first kiss, your first embrace.
Nay, I do get it, why you had to go first, you had to show us, especially me, that while life can be beautiful, death is as beautiful.
You will always be the first woman I loved, and please let me be the first to be reunited with you.
Moving Forward
I am ready to move forward with my life. I am not a fan of using the words, ‘moving on.’
As nobody moves on, we move forward. As humans, we are wired to do just that, to continue to live and continue with our lives no matter what. But I know now that grief never goes away, and why would we want it to go away?
I know that is what my mom wants for me to continue living.
There are two quotes I want to share;
Grief is the price we pay when we love, and Grief is just love with no place to go.
When we love someone, it doesn’t stop us even if it is unrequited, the same with grief. It is a continuance of love. As I grieve, I continue to love you, Mom.
Sometimes I don’t want my life to go on, as it means a life without you, and yet I know you’re pushing me to continue to live until my time is up, as you wait for the time when we can be together.
Let my heart be the place where your love need not leave, need not go away.
Rest in love, Nanay (MOM).






