My son, my only child, is dying.

Before I had him, the doctors told me that it would be dangerous for me to conceive but I was trying to grant the wish of my parents who want to see their grandchild before they are gone. Being a filial daughter, I had Jackson. The dangers doctors had warned me about did not falter me. The process was extremely risky and the pain was excruciating, but I got through it all.

I had difficult days after giving birth to my only child. I’ve felt what it was like to be at the brink of death. But I did not regret any single moment because I had Jackson, I had my world.

But my world started crumbling down as he whispered through the phone, voice cracking, “Mom... it’s positive. I have MND.”

It felt like a bullet had shot through my heart, my throat felt burning and the tears threatened to fall. On the other line, I could hear him breathing, steady, slowly. And like his breathing, the disease took over his body, steady, slowly.

I tried to put out a strong front every day, encouraging Jackson that it’s not the end of the world and that he should live his life as long as he could. But at night, I pray the Rosary and begged God to show some miracle and sleep with a damp pillow underneath. Jackson had a dream of becoming a national fencer and my dream was to see him achieve it.

An