Saying Goodbye to Krystal Mae

In Loving Memory

Are there ever words profound enough to convey the sadness of parting with one of our children? They elude me. Still, I write with the heavy heart that comes from having just said goodbye to one of our young cancer warriors, our beloved Krystal Mae de Guzman.

As one positioned at the front lines of children's suffering, I question my ability to become accustomed to this aspect. In fact, it never becomes easier—when the battle is lost, when silence descends, when all that is left to us is to mourn.

Krystal Mae was a lovely little girl, bright, dreamy, and full of life. I’ve heard from many folks that she was kind and as sweet as can be. For the precious time I knew her, I saw with my own eyes how bravely she battled. And then, like the relentless beast it is, cancer took her.

I am not related to Krystal Mae. Not by blood. But the feelings of loss and sorrow I hold go deep, like those of an aunt who loved and watched from a quiet distance. Still, that kind of sorrow is not mine to claim. It belongs to her mother, Kaycee.

Krystal's mom has faith that her daughter will heal. "Krystal will make it," she told me. This is the only way I can think to frame the toll this loss is taking on her. Sleepless nights. Bodies, spirits, and every breath taken that no longer fills the room. Rooms rendered silent by the absence of laughter that had echoed before.

I messaged Kaycee early this morning—just to tell her that I am here. That we, at Adonai’s Mercy House, are here. I didn’t attempt to counsel her, not on how to go through this, not on when to stop grieving. Who am I to know such things?

Perhaps I don't need to inform her that we are grieving along with her. Perhaps she already knows. And perhaps, in time, she will find solace in this undeniable fact: Her child is no longer suffering. Kaycee is strong. 

I planned to be at Krystal Mae's wake. I had been set for the plan to attend it along with Adonai's administrative assistant, Jehann Ong, but was thwarted by the act of nature that seemingly did not want me there.

It was July, a typhoon month. A batch of typhoons appeared to be conspiring to hit this portion of the country and to flood most of the streets of Metro Manila.

Caloocan City, where the De Guzmans live, is one of the most flood-prone areas in the metropolis, making some of its roads inaccessible. We were unable to travel and were prevented from going in person to pay our respects. It was a storm that left so many in the same predicament.

I wanted to be with Kaycee, to grasp her hand, and give what little comfort presence can offer. But our best intentions were swept away by forces beyond our control. All I can do is murmur a prayer and hope that love goes where our bodies cannot. 

Through online conversation, I apologized to Kaycee for my failure to be there, but she assured me it was alright. Instead, she expressed her gratitude to Adonai’s for making her feel she’s part of its family. 

“I feel your concern and your love,” she told me.  

Ultimately, we take solace in knowing that Krystal Mae is now complete. Secure. At rest. Wrapped in the everlasting arms of God—reveling with the angels, unfettered and unbound.