Bikolanang Raketera

This is my third life.

The first time, I fought like someone drowning—grasping for air, refusing to let go. I begged God, “Please… not yet. I’m not ready.” My voice was full of fear, my heart clinging to every unfinished dream, every person I wasn’t ready to leave behind. And somehow, I was given another chance.

The second time, I fought even harder. Not just out of fear, but out of love. I had learned how fragile everything was—how quickly life could slip through your fingers. I held on tighter, prayed louder, cried deeper. “Lord, please let me stay… I still have so much to do.” And again, I woke up. Breathing. Alive. Chosen to stay.

But now… this is my third life.

And something inside me has changed.

I’m still grateful. Still breathing. Still here. But I’m no longer holding on with trembling hands. I’ve learned that life isn’t something I can control, no matter how hard I fight. I’ve seen how pain shapes you, how survival teaches you to let go.

So this time, I whispered a different prayer.

“Lord… if You still want me here, I’ll stay. I’ll live fully, love deeply, and make every moment count. But if it’s time for me to go… I won’t resist anymore. I trust You.”

There was no fear in my voice this time. Just peace.

Because sometimes, the strongest kind of fighting… is knowing when to surrender.