They said that I was going to die and I only had a short time left to live. I was sick with asthma and the doctor said I was no longer fit to work. I was worried because I needed to toil for my children. Back then, I worked day and night, preparing and selling salted eggs, century eggs, sampaloc, candies, and etc. I adopted a lot of children and I was able to see them grow, although they never really thought of visiting me, which is also fine by me. My children don’t even know that I’m here since I separated with their father. My husband is a police from Caloocan. He’s already dead. Biologically, I have three children, two of which are already dead.
When I was young, I saw one of my relatives being hit by my father. It resulted into fatal wounds, which triggered me to leave and escape his cruelty. I decided to ride a ferry, going to Manila without any pocket money. All the while, the workers from the boat thought that I was with someone, but that wasn’t really the case. Upon arrival, I didn’t have any idea where to go cause I was still young back then. Someone asked me if I had someone to accompany me and I said, I didn’t have anyone with me.
A nun brought me here (at the Home for the Aged) and she knows where I am from. I stood as my grandchildren’s mother since their mother had passed away. I gave them money for their wedding, for their studies and everything. Their mother died while there was really nothing that the father could do, not even bringing his own wife to the hospital to get medications.
Rosita’s advice for the younger generation: