How Do I Unlove You?

(Journey Through Grief, Letting Go, and Love That Never Fades)

How do you let go of someone who loved you first, even before you learned how to speak?

How do you “unlove” the first man who showed you how to be strong, brave, and gentle all at the same time?

Paano ba mag-let go ng taong minahal mo buong buhay mo? No one really teaches you how to do that.

This isn’t a breakup story. This is about the most painful kind of letting go—when death takes someone away from you without warning.

When life just… moves on, but your heart stays stuck in the moment they left.

This is about my father. My Papa Mar.

My first love.

A Love That Started the Day I Was Born

I grew up with a father who wasn’t showy, but his love spoke loud in the quietest ways.

He never missed a morning without handing me five pesos before he left for work. Every. Single. Day. To a little girl, that coin wasn’t just money—it was proof that someone remembered her. That someone cared.

I remember when we joined a banana-eating contest at school during my kinder days. I was supposed to eat, but I suddenly said, “Inaantok na ako.” He just smiled and ate all the bananas himself so we could finish the game. Ganun siya. Palaging game. Palaging andyan.

And yes, he had his tough moments too.

I still remember the only time he ever laid a hand on me. Not out of anger, but out of impulse—when I protected a stray cat who stole our tinapa. He was supposed to teach the cat a lesson, but I got in the way. I took the slap. And still, I knew he loved me.

I even remember when I fell off the bike I insisted on driving. I thought he’d rush to help me, but he didn’t. He just stood there. Watching. Maybe it was his way of teaching me: “Anak, kailangan mong matutong bumangon sa sarili mong paa.”

And I did. Because of him, I became strong.

Moments I’ll Never Forget

He may not have said “I love you” all the time, but his actions spoke it louder.

When I was about to get married, and things got rocky, he called me. Calmly. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t scold me. He simply asked me to talk things through with my then-boyfriend (now husband). I could hear the worry in his voice, but more than that, I felt his hope.

And on my wedding day… he cried. I never thought I’d see my Papa cry.

He gave a message during the reception, and every word pierced through my heart. I knew he wasn’t just giving me away.

He was trusting that the man beside me would love me as much as he did.

The Day Everything Changed

September 6, 2020.

My husband and I visited him. He joked about getting a cellphone for his birthday on September 25.

“Papa, sige… I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

Truth is, I was already planning to give him one. But he didn’t get the chance to wait.

September 7, 2020. He passed away.

Just like that.

No warning.

No goodbye.

He passed peacefully. Walang sakit. Parang natulog lang. But the pain he left in my chest felt unbearable. I didn’t cry right away. I couldn’t. But I couldn’t breathe either.

That’s grief. You don’t always cry. But your soul knows what it lost.

Why so sudden, Papa? Why didn’t you wait a little longer?

We weren’t ready.

But who ever is?

How Do You Let Go of the Person Who Never Let You Down?

He didn’t see my child. He didn’t meet his apo. The one I’ve been praying for him to hold.

The one I wanted him to carry, kiss, and spoil. I wanted him to be there when I say, “Anak, si Lolo mo yan.” But now, all I can do is tell stories. Paint pictures with my words.

Let my future child know that once upon a time, there was a man who gave me strength. Who taught me kindness. Who made me laugh. Who made me, ME.

How do I unlove you, Papa?

I can’t.

Because real love doesn’t end when a heartbeat does. Real love lingers—in memories, in old photos, in favorite songs, in late-night breakdowns, in dreams.

There are days when I still whisper, “Papa, sana nandito ka.” There are nights when I feel your presence. And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

You’re not gone.

You’re just somewhere else.

And one day, when God allows it, we’ll meet again. I’ll introduce your grandchild to you. And this time, there will be no more goodbyes.

Grieving Is Not Linear

Some days, I feel okay. Some days, I’m a mess.

Grieving a parent—especially a father like mine—isn’t something you “move on” from. You learn to carry the pain. You turn it into strength. Into meaning. Into love that now flows from you to others.

To anyone reading this who lost their dad too:

You are not alone.

And it’s okay if you’re still hurting. It means you loved deeply. That your bond was real.

So no, I will never “unlove” my father.

But I will live in a way that honors him. I will raise my child with the values he raised me with.

And I will keep his love alive in every story I tell.

PCOS delayed my motherhood… and stole Tatay’s chance to hold his apo. 😔💔 But I carry his love in every baby kick I’ll never get to share with him.

#FatherlessDaughter #PCOSStoleThisFromMe #TataySaLangit

PCOS Millennials