Losing my mom, five years later

Today marks five years since my mother, Nadia Lising, lost her battle to cancer. She would have been 60 years old.

Every year, I have written something in her memory. This year, I especially miss her because I made big strides in my professional life that I know she would have appreciated.

Bonding after graduating

There was a brief period in my life where it really felt as if my mom and I were connecting more than just mother and son. After I graduated with my Bachelor of Journalism, I think we both felt this immense weight lifted off our shoulders. Throughout my childhood, she would stress the importance of finishing any kind of post-secondary education. I’ve learned in the years since her death that, in her personal life, attending college or university was something my mom had to complete on her own.

Growing up in the Philippines with 12 siblings, my mom’s parents undoubtedly had their hands full. I’m sure that their children’s education was a priority, but sending all of them to college/university would be a huge financial commitment; one that I don’t think they could afford. It was more important to put food on the table every night than send one kid to university.

Naturally, my mom worked her ass off to put herself through school. This stubborn, one-track mentality has definitely passed down to my older brother and me. From there, she moved to Canada and began the process of assimilating into the white collar corporate world (to my knowledge, she adapted quickly). All of this to say once I graduated from university, connecting with my mom felt easier.

Being unable to share the joy with her

Over the last year, I have been fortunate to experience achievements in my career that I wish she could see for herself. The main one being: I got to work with the Toronto Raptors!

For the 2025-26 regular season, I committed myself to drawing a sketch after all 82 games, win or lose. Pretty early on, this project gained sizable attention on social media and eventually, the local news media. There was a week in November 2025 where I made media appearances on CP24, CBC (in both French and English) and the Toronto Star! I felt incredibly sheepish telling my family of yet another media appearance, but I know my mom would have spammed her Facebook feed with those appearances, shamelessly boasting: “my son is in the Toronto Star!”

After I completed all 82 regular season sketches, the Raptors social media team reached out and asked if I’d like to continue this project during the playoffs with them! I had achieved a career goal I’ve held ever since I decided to pursue graphic design full-time: work with the Toronto Raptors. And my work was shared across all the Raptors social media. Sadly, our playoff run was cut short in the first round - but it was the first year in a while where I felt good about the Raptors (and that’s excluding the fact I worked with them).

I just wish my mom could have been here to witness that. I wish I could have sent her each post-game sketch, attempting to explain all the references. I can almost guarantee that my mom would have loved watching Scottie Barnes: there is such a joyful energy to his game that she would have admired.

(I can’t even imagine how she would have reacted to this bizarre Kawhi Leonard trade scenario)

Five years and fading memories

My mom died five years ago. That feels odd to say, let alone write. I moved out two years ago, however I do visit home quite often (I’m the family barber). I’ll be honest: it both stresses and saddens me going back to that house. To my family who still lives there: the following will sound harsh, but it does not change how much I love each and every one of you.

The walls that once were gleefully painted with bright pastel tones, reflecting sunlight throughout the halls, are now coated in this dark forest green that whispers “stay inside, there’s nothing to see out back.” And they’re right, because the backyard patio is now a decrepit pile of paint-stripped wooden planks, littered between an overgrowth of weeds as dense as the raccoons who live there. Is that the backyard or did I turn on my PlayStation and boot up “The Last of Us”?

I used to love hanging out back there, especially during COVID; personal space was at a premium, so having any private outdoor space was a luxury. It’s fitting that the vertical blinds that cover the sliding door to the backyard are currently broken and stay closed. They’re like the sheet covering a cadaver. “Can you identify the victim?” Yes: my mother’s memory.

Show that you care, dammit

The other week I had a heart-to-heart talk with my 15-year-old cousin about growing up and taking on more responsibility. In the leadup, I was scheming ways to smoothly bring up those topics … but instead, we just had a pleasant conversation. For the first time, my cousin asked me how I was doing. I’m not even kidding when I say that warmed my heart.

If nothing else, I wanted my cousin to understand that there is a stark difference between caring and showing you care. I have no doubt that they are caring, but frankly, they have nothing to show for it. This is reflected in our constant reminders for them to do their chores. But even a simple “how are you?” is, in my opinion, a very meaningful way of showing that one cares.

My mom cared about her loved ones deeply. She cooked for them, planned trips, and sometimes she invited them to live in our house. I used to take that for granted, but now - especially since I moved out - I realize that level of care is uncommon.

Relationship audits & spreading oneself too thin (I kinda crash out here, so bear with me)

The reason I mentioned the above is because over the past year, I took stock of my relationships and did something like an audit. Do I always message them first? Do they reach out to make plans? Do they reach out at all? If the answer to all is “no”, then it’s a one-sided relationship and probably not worth the level of energy I’m giving it. This has led to both friendship break-ups and “relegation”.

Sadly, some of the relationships I’ve had to relegate are with people whose company and conversation I really enjoy. But all the reaching out, attempts at planning, rescheduling, etc. are met with radio silence and it simply isn’t worth it. The juice ain’t worth the squeeze.

It made me think about how for most of my adult life, especially the weeks leading up to my mom’s death, I would spread myself too thin. It also didn’t help that I was an insecure people-pleaser: I would feel bad for saying “no” or setting up very reasonable boundaries for myself. I’m currently working on this, but sometimes those old people-pleasing habits creep up and I burn out or feel resentful.

Who knows, maybe this whole relationship-audit thing is completely unreasonable and the problem is my lack of boundary setting. But dammit, why does it sometimes feel like I’m putting in all the effort into my relationships? Why am I planning the meet-ups, the birthdays, the holidays? Why do I feel like a dog who always comes back to its owner whenever my “bad-texting” friends send me their bi-annual reply? 

So then why did I treat my mom the same way while she was alive? Why did she have to put in the effort into our relationship? Why did she have to plan all the birthdays, the nights at the theatre, the holidays? Why did I resent our dry text conversation when all I sent her were one-sentence replies? 

Sure, I was young and didn’t know better - but that’s not a good excuse. Although I am trying not to repeat those mistakes in my relationship with my dad, I can’t help but feel as if I failed my mom while she was alive.

Give a damn.

I don’t like ending these on a sour note, so I’ll say this: my mom really cared and that passed onto me. In 2026, it is really easy to become apathetic and numb to life. Our media diet is flooded with constant bad news, so why bother? Why give a damn about anything when none of this matters and we, as common folk, have virtually no sway on the global stage?

I’ll tell you why: because most, if not all, of the best parts of life are made possible by people who really cared. The laughs I’ve shared, the food I’ve eaten, the movies I’ve watched - all were made by people who gave a damn. To a nihilist, caring may not mean anything, but it sure makes life more fun. And if this life is all we get, what have we got to lose by caring?

Today marks five years since my mom died. She was merely one woman who took every opportunity to show her loved ones how deeply she cared for them.

And life is all the more wonderful because of her.

I miss you, mom. Always.