Yesterday, after we dropped Rica at the airport, we drove back to Olongapo with a quick stop in Bataan to see the Death March monument. Even though it was just a short visit, standing there made all of us pause. It’s impossible not to feel the weight of history in that place — the kind that settles quietly into you.

When we finally reached the house, Ate Tessie and her family were still there, filling the rooms with their laughter and stories. It was comforting to come home to a full house again, even if only for one more night.

This morning, April 2, we said goodbye to them after breakfast. At this point, I’m starting to think the most important meal of the day is turning into the saddest meal of the day. Another round of hugs, another round of photos, another group heading off in a different direction.

But this goodbye felt a little lighter. After fifty years apart, we finally had time together — and this time, I have everyone’s contact information. We won’t lose touch again.