Finding Love and Strength in Grief

This Women’s Month, four moms, Feliz Lucas, Michelle Fontelera, Michelle Yap Go, and Lani Robles share the love and strength they’ve discovered amidst the grief of losing their children

If a mother’s love for their children is the greatest there is, then the grief of losing them is just as profound. No parent dares to imagine what it’s like to bury their children. But for Feliz Lucas, Michelle Fontelera, Michelle Yap Go, and Lani Robles, this was their reality. 

While they’ve faced countless hospitalizations, none of those would have prepared them to face the one visit that would take their children away from them. As they summon the strength to keep on going for their other kids who still need them, it is an everyday battle. Here are their stories:

Feliz Lucas: On Love, Loss, and Running to the Truth

As Feliz Lucas eagerly awaits the arrival of her fifth child, it is a moment of remembrance and strength as she recalls the memory of her firstborn, Caitie.

Diagnosed with juvenile myelomonocytic leukemia (JMML) at the age of three, she fought bravely until she passed on March 31, 2016. The toll it took on her family was insurmountable. 

As someone solution-oriented, Feliz reveals that the loss was not only felt on March 31st, but it started when they were first confronted with a situation she, nor anyone around her, knew how to solve. “We had to go to the ER and she couldn’t be diagnosed even if she went through a lot of tests. We went to different hospitals, different doctors, and she couldn’t get diagnosed,” she shares. “We had to fly to Singapore and stay there for a month until she got diagnosed.” 

Remembering Caitie

In Caitie’s last moments, Feliz remembers talking to God the most. For days on end, she had been treading the fine line of accepting His will and asking him to give her more time. A particular moment stands out: finding herself looking through the ICU mirror on the day Caitie would leave their family. 

“I heard myself shouting, ‘Lord, if it’s really your will, okay.’ and then I talked back to myself, ‘but no, Lord, spare her! Give her more time. Give her life.’” This push and pull went on until the attending doctor had told her that Caitie was non-responsive, that she couldn’t breathe on her own.

“It was the hardest thing to say, until now…‘Okay, you can let her go,’” she laments as she recalls the doctor’s attempts to keep her daughter alive. “I think it was hard because the doctor said, ‘Stop crying. She doesn’t want you to cry.’ And then I just shouted, ‘No, I need to cry! I need to grieve!’” 

Grief isn’t a sickness, it’s an amputation

If you ask Feliz about the stages of grief, she will tell you that she does not believe it is something you must go through to “get through.” Instead, it is something that remains with you as you journey through life. It will always be there and there is nothing wrong with it. 

“I believe that grief has become my friend. Grief has become a relative or has become a part of me. There are times when you intentionally meet up with your friend, right? There are times when you bump into each other. There are times you are in conflict with your friend. There are times when you just love to be with your friend. And that’s what grief is to me now.”

The important thing is to welcome and embrace grief – be it silently, loudly, quickly, slowly. But one must remember that you never have to go through it alone. Feliz beautifully explains it in the context of posing the question, “For you, which part of your body is that child that you’ve lost?” 

And for her, it’s her hands. The thing she uses to hold, embrace, and feel things. The challenge is in knowing it’s gone–the phantom pain because sometimes you’ll feel like you still have them. And what you can do when things get hard or you can’t reach something for instance? You ask for help. “For people to understand grief or a person who is newly grieving, it’s not a condition that needs to be cured. It’s literally like learning to live with an amputated part of your body.” 

Love does not end in death

Although it has been nine years since Caitie’s passing, her family keeps her alive in their everyday moments. They constantly talk about her and share stories of her with her siblings. Feliz mentions that when someone brings up that soon, they’ll be four kids (with a baby on the way), the kids are quick to say, “No! We’re five because we have Ate Caitie!”

Feliz has made it a point to instill in her children that no matter what happens, the love they have as a family doesn’t end in death. It transcends it. It does not run dry because it is anchored in running after the Lord, which she considers her greatest strength and truth.

“If you know where your truth and strength lie, from the one who has given you the most strength, then that makes you a strong woman. That makes you a strong mother. So it’s not about ‘I can do it all’ – it’s about ‘I need help and I can’t do it all and I need to get my strength from the one who’s unlimited.’”

As she reflects on her journey, Feliz remains humbled, knowing she is not alone in her grief. And the thing that has kept her going? “Make every effort to run after the truth. Choose someone that you’ll be safe with and journey together in grief without hesitations or judgment. That’s how you’ll heal.” 

Michelle Fontelera: Gratitude For A Normal Day

It has been more than three years since Michelle Fontelera lost her son Xavi, but his presence still lingers in every moment. From the shock of his cerebral palsy diagnosis in 2004 to his final breath in 2021—what she calls his shortest hospitalization ever—remains fresh. 

When Xavi was diagnosed, social media didn’t exist and Google offered only limited answers. So Michelle relied on books and medical experts to guide her. Though she never found the cause, she eventually found acceptance. Looking back, she realizes the shock wasn’t just about the diagnosis — it was also the first time she had ever seen a child with cerebral palsy.

“At some point, you start to question yourself if something’s not right with your child,” she shares. “But over the years, I’ve come to accept that whatever God gives us—it’s really for us. We don’t always see the big picture at first, but when things begin to unfold, you’ll understand.”

Life’s A Party

Her mindset fueled her efforts to help Xavi thrive during his first seven years of life. Besides attending therapy three to four times a week, he was bedridden, tube-fed, and completely dependent on her and his caretakers. Though not often sick, he struggled with GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease), which flared up occasionally. Hospital visits became part of their routine, but outside of them, Xavi was a social butterfly—he loved being around people and especially loved celebrating.

“His thirteenth birthday was a milestone since kids with his condition don’t usually live that long. It was a big, superhero-themed party—fully inclusive. Kids in wheelchairs joined us,” Michelle recalls. 

Xavi’s love for celebrations lives on through Michelle, who continues to host gatherings in his honor. “We actually throw more parties now,” she smiles. “We would hold two: one for his real birthday and another for the day he became an angel in heaven. One with family, another with his angel friends. It’s not your typical loud party—it’s more of just a get-together and a celebration of life.”

The joy of these parties stand in stark contrast to their final moments together. Unlike previous hospital stays, where she would panic, Michelle remembers this one feeling different. “He was pale,” she says, recalling how she assumed he just needed another transfusion. “It was a Tuesday, and we thought it wouldn’t take too long. He wasn’t even throwing up blood. We told ourselves, ‘Ah, mabilis lang ’to, wala pang one week, uwi na tayo.’ But on Wednesday, around 2 pm, we were just sitting together… and then, he just stopped breathing…”

Life After Death

As a special needs parent, Michelle had always feared two things: dying before her child (because who would take care of him) or her child dying before her (how then, will she cope). But years of hospital visits had prepared her for every possibility—at least, she thought they had. Some stays felt more dire than others. Yet, through every challenge, she had always fought for Xavi, and she always believed in another tomorrow.

Still, when the moment finally came, nothing could have truly prepared her for it.

“My prayer was always so simple. I tell God ‘When his time comes, I just want to be with him—no prolonged hospital stay, no difficulties.’” And that’s exactly what had happened.

As they explained the contents of the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) form, Michelle had more questions than decisions. They asked her twice before reality sank in. “I couldn’t even sign it the first time.”

The struggle to sign the DNR would be just the first of many challenges in the life she would have to navigate without Xavi. The first two to three months after he passed, she admits, were a blur. But she tried everything to cope with the new reality—Reiki healing, medication, psychiatrists, and therapies from both Eastern and Western practices.

Despite her efforts to heal, there are still moments that feel impossible—like watching Xavi’s old videos. “I just skip them,” she admits.

Yet, during her grief, Michelle experienced what she can only describe as a miracle. Last year, inside an auditorium in Rome, something unexpected happened. “It was my only prayer—for Pope Francis to bless the pillow with Xavi’s face. To this day, I still don’t know how it happened.”

This particular pillow is special to Michelle because it strengthens her and reminds her that she’s not alone. The courage she has to willingly share her story is a testament to that, as she also shares sage advice to the many parents out there who are grieving the loss of their child.

“Despite the sadness and the pain, celebrate having a normal day. Be grateful for the good days. And on the days you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck and can’t get out of bed, it’s okay. Honor what you feel, acknowledge the sadness, pray, and when you can, get up and give yourself a hug. Gratitude for every single day, no matter what kind of day it may be, keeps me going.”

Michelle Yap Go: Turning Grief Into Love

“They always say na ‘hindi ibibigay sayo pag hindi mo kaya,’” Michelle Yap Go recounts. 

And as Michelle faced the unimaginable three years ago, this was immediately put to the test. She lost her eleven-year-old son, Grant, in June of 2022. 

From the moment he was born, Grant was diagnosed with a congenital heart condition that rendered him nonverbal, and saw frequent visits to physical therapists. His condition also left him immuno-compromised, hindering his ability to travel long distances. 

She vividly remembers the internal turmoil she went through before ultimately deciding to fly to the United States that summer. It was a very taxing choice between giving her two other children a long-awaited vacation and remaining behind to care for Grant – a delicate balancing act that would be challenging for any mother. 

Seeking reassurance from Grant’s other caretakers, Michelle confirmed it would be safe to go. However, no one was ready for the quick decline that happened the moment the family left Philippine soil. 

“He was okay. Super okay,” Michelle solemnly recalls. “But then when we left Friday, Saturday onwards, he was becoming weak.”

The Ties That Bind

Looking back, Michelle recalls a time several months before Grant’s passing in the same summer. It had been a normal day when she suddenly sensed that something was different. In the middle of playing, she was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming feeling that Grant was saying goodbye to her. No words were exchanged at that moment, but she felt that he had communicated it to her. 

Michelle remembers crying behind his back, thinking, “Grant, di ko kaya. Don’t leave me.’” 

All this happened in her mind–something she simply perceived and thought she had just imagined. Thinking back, she realized she always did have that connection with Grant. “When June 2022 came, I realized what I “felt” was right. That we had that connection. That I’m able to hear him even without words.”

Channeling Love and Remembrance

The loss of a child never gets easier over time nor distance, but Michelle has continued to honor Grant every year on his birthday which falls on October 8th–a special day he shares with his youngest sibling. She places flowers at his final resting place. She also celebrates his life with those that love him by posting on social media pages for everyone to remember him on his special day. 

Last year, she shared a video commemorating his life with pictures of him through the years accompanied by the eulogy she had given during the wake. It was something she shared when she felt she had the strength to finally do so. 

This year, she plans to hold a party for children in an orphanage or children with special needs to celebrate his life because it is something he would have wanted. “He wants to have balloons, cake, and laughter.”

Leaving A Legacy

Grief has no timeline and Michelle admits that it is normal to start questioning our faith, whatever that may be. However, upon reflecting on the life Grant lived, she realized that there was always guidance along the way in the form of the people who helped her. From doctors, caretakers, families in the same situation, and anyone that shared the same love for Grant, she says “The hand of God was always there. Never doubt.”

Michelle also shares that energy healing and counseling has helped her cope with the loss of her son. During a session, her healer felt that she had a big hole in her heart and Michelle did feel that way – that a hole in the shape of Grant left her feeling empty and hollow. In response, her counselor told her, “I’m gonna fill that up with Grant’s love and God’s love.” 

After that session, she felt the urge to help other parents who might be dealing with grief and are seeking solace through love and understanding. “I want to pay it forward and help other parents in the same situation. If their child is sick, has special needs or if they are grieving a loss, I want to be there for them.” 

Recently, Michelle has decided to work with a friend to launch an Instagram account to let grieving parents know that they are not alone. She has also told her counselor to pass on her contact number to other parents going through this journey if they are in need of support. 

There are still days when she feels the loss of Grant’s presence deeply. The grief comes in waves, always unexpectedly, so you never really know. And when this happens, she shares, “I try to study whatever I can find. [I] have lunch with friends, I dance. Sometimes I just cry. These things help. Life does not stop. You have to keep going at your own pace and always in your own time.” 

Michelle thinks about the meaning of this cover feature, and she sums it up as each mother wanting the legacy of their children to be remembered. In her heart, she knows that Grant was given to her so she could help other people. 

Lani Robles: The Fight To Move On 

“She was a fighter. The real fighter she was…” Lani Robles, mother of three, recalls.

Sharing her daughter’s story is something she does with a mix of pride and sorrow. Born with cerebral palsy, Julianna had faced many battles, but it was the complications from dengue that proved to be fatal. It wasn’t her first bout with dengue, but this time, Julianna’s weakened state made recovery impossible.

Yet, amid the chaotic hospital preparations and medical distress, what cut the deepest wasn’t just the loss — it was knowing that Julianna, in her final moments, had been deprived of something so essential to their family’s bond: food. Despite her physical limitations, Julianna found joy in the simple act of creation, leaving behind memories as rich and warm as the meals they shared.

“We’re a family of foodies,” Lani shares with a bittersweet smile. “Everyone cooks, even Julianna. She would help prepare the food, and whenever I cooked bilo-bilo, she was the one carefully shaping the balls. She even has a salsa named after her: the Salsa Julianna.” 

On February 11, 2024, at the age of 20, Julianna passed away, leaving a void in their family that words could scarcely fill.

Heartbreak and Helplessness

Lani describes the loss as “fast and furious,” yet its aftermath was anything but. The image of pushing Julianna’s empty wheelchair out of the hospital haunts her still. It was a grief shared by her husband, their sons Lorenzo and Ishmael, and their steadfast caretaker, Ate Luning.

“We thought it was just another routine hospitalization,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “We’d bring her there, get treatment, and bring her home after a week.”

But this time, there was no coming home. In the weeks that followed, waves of heartbreak, blame, and helplessness crashed over Lani. She replayed every decision, questioning the hospital choice, the system, even her philosophy of “intentional proximity”— keeping their lives centered around having accessible necessities.

The questions were relentless. The flashbacks of the hospital’s disarray only deepened her distress. “I was civil and even polite. But it was only because I was familiar with how hospitals worked that things started moving. But even then, I was powerless.”

At some point, all she could do was wail and pray hard in the hospital’s hallways. “Please, no more pain, Lord. No more.”

Grief is Not Linear — It’s a Roller Coaster

While physical pain ends the moment life does, emotional pain lingers for those left behind. Unfortunately, the world does not pause for grief — a harsh truth Lani was forced to confront. But she was determined to reclaim a sense of normalcy. With a brave front, she returned to work after three months. However, the toll was heavier than expected. Within weeks, she found herself in the hospital twice — this time, for something entirely new: asthma, a manifestation of stress and grief.

“In my industry—insurance and finance—it’s either you’re in or you’re out,” she explains. “I couldn’t tell clients I was grieving. People say ‘I’m sorry,’ but at the end of the day, they still need you to do things.”

Oddly enough, the relentless nature of finance became part of her healing. The constant demands kept her mind engaged, offering structure in an otherwise chaotic emotional landscape. Medical consultations, therapy, and a life coach also helped her navigate the layers of grief.

“It’s quite the roller coaster,” she admits with a wry smile. “The pain can feel like a toothache. It’ll bother you no matter what you do!”

Even so, her greatest source of strength remains in the form of her prayerful family and friends. Her sons, Ishmael and Lorenzo, remind her that her love still has a place to go.

And in the quiet moments, she tends to someone equally important — her inner child, whom she affectionately calls Little Lani.

What Comes Next?

A year has passed, but the loss of Julianna still feels surreal. The lingering “what ifs” may never truly fade. Yet, instead of reacting out of anger, Lani has chosen patience.

“We still talk to Julianna, watch her favorite shows,” Lani shares. “I’m grateful for friends who remind me there’s no rush. It’s about being ready in our own time. And when that time comes, if ever it does, I hope it won’t be so painful anymore.”

As she celebrates the life Julianna lived with this feature, she shares it with advice that many often forget. “We don’t know when we’ll go. We also don’t know how things can play out. But when we find ourselves paralyzed by grief, don’t rush through it. Just remind ourselves that “This too shall pass.”

The Continuation of Motherhood

Although their grief has become a part of their daily life and their entire being, it’s something they have to balance with parenting the children who are still physically with them. Learning to live a life without their children who have passed does not, in any way mean, forgetting about them. 

Feliz Lucas, Michelle Fontelera, Michelle Yap Go and Lani Robles agree grief will always be there, the sadness comes and goes, but it’s something that they accept as part of their lives. It can feel overwhelming at first. But as with everything else, they eventually learned to accept it. 

“It’s okay to not be okay,” Michelle Fontelera assures.

Knowing one’s triggers and one’s love language has been helping Lani navigate life without her daughter. “Sometimes, I walk away because I know I might get triggered with conversations or something that will make me feel sad. But I know that my love language is “acts of service,” and eventually, I want to help other parents who have also lost their children.” 

Although Caitie, Xavi, Grant, and Julianna may no longer be with them physically, the eternal bond, the memories they made, and the love they shared with their mothers live on. A mother’s love does not end with the death of a child. It lingers in memories, in whispered names, in the way the world forever feels different. The pain that Feliz, Michelle, Michelle and Lani are living with, is profound and unimaginable, but so too is the strength of their hearts. It carries love beyond time, beyond absence, and beyond what words can hold.

Words KEVYN GOHU-CATINGUB & ALEX LOZADA
Photography KIM SANTOS OF KLIQ, INC.
Art Direction DENIELLE CARAG
Makeup TWINKLE BERNARDO for Michelle Go Yap and Michelle Fontelera, MARY ANN PARBA for Feliz Lucas and Lani Robles
Hairstyling ANGELI ALFONSO for Michelle Go Yap and Michelle Fontelera, CARL IAN AMARILLO for Feliz Lucas and Lani Robles
Stylist SIYA DARYANI of THE CLOSET CULTURE
Shoot Coordination ANTHONY MENDOZA
Sittings Editor MARGA MEDRANO-TUPAZ

Shot on location at RAFFLES HOTEL MAKATI

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