09/12/2025
When I was looking at the Christmas tree the other day, memories started coming back.
Clear. Warm. Familiar.
Back when Mommy and Tatay were still here, Christmas felt so full.
Busy. In the best way.
Mommy would already be preparing days before.
Buko salad. Macaroni salad. Halaya. Gelatin.
Tatay was the one who’d pick up our cake order and go to the market.
Quiet. Steady. That was him.
On Christmas Eve, we’d go to Holy Mass first.
Then, on the way home, we’d stop to greet friends and neighbors “Merry Christmas.”
And somehow we'd end up staying longer than planned.
Chatting kina Lola Toni, Lolo Tansyong, Lola Lyds, Lolo Tony, at marami pang iba.
By the time we got home, it was already noche buena.
Salu-salo. Kwentuhan. Tawanan.
Opening Santa’s gifts slowly. Without any rush…
Because back then, we didn’t know those moments were already becoming memories.
Now that both my parents are gone, and I’m 40,
Christmas feels different.
Still beautiful. But quieter.
It’s the kind of season that makes you slow down and really take things in.
The way I did in Palawan.
Just being present.
Letting life be simple for a while.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something.
Love often looked like preparing.
Like Mommy making sure everyone had something to eat.
Like Tatay taking care of the small things,
not because he needed to, but because he loved us.
As I get older, that’s also how I’ve come to understand financial planning.
It’s not really about numbers or policies.
It’s about preparing, so the people you love stay PRUtected.
Even and especially when you’re no longer there to look after them.
So this Christmas, I’m holding these memories a little closer.
Grateful for the Christmases we had,
and more mindful of the kind of care we choose to leave behind. 🤍🎄
And if you’re at a point where you’re thinking about
how to better take care of the people you love,
and you want someone to guide you gently through that,
you can always reach out. I’m here. I got you.
To making life better,
