Gratitude cake

I’ve always wanted to do that new trend on social media where a group of friends huddle together in front of a gratitude cake. It’s a simple cake, but each one takes a stick with a note attached to it, where one writes about a thing or two to be grateful for the year. It looks light, joyful, and intentional. So much has happened this year that if it were up to me, one note wouldn’t fit everything I would like to say. I’m sure you feel the same way.

Maybe, like many others, 2025 isn’t my year. It was the year when I lost many people so dear to me: my cousin to colon cancer, my good friend and fellow journalist Emmariel Ares who was hit by a speeding motorcycle, mentor Max Limpag, and many others. One after the other, the heavens kept calling them home, leaving us down here dumbfounded, with a void carved deep in our hearts. We keep convincing ourselves that God has a plan, but as of now, it remains unclear to me how life is supposed to go from here, or how grief is meant to soften with time.

It was also the year when we faced one disaster after another. By the end of September, a 6.9-magnitude earthquake hit Bogo City, affecting thousands. The earthquake didn’t just topple structures; it shook our faith and tested our strength. I can still vividly remember how every aftershock felt. My knees trembled as I stood in front of the camera to deliver a report, a fleeting discomfort compared to the many families who endured long nights without sleep, afraid to return to homes that no longer felt safe.

The following month, a typhoon struck, leaving hundreds homeless. We saw how entire communities were wiped out in an instant, how sadness turned into rage as we realized that the impact of a typhoon could have been mitigated. I walked into one of the flooded malls and still feel pain in my heart seeing how many establishments have yet to reopen amid the holiday rush. The stench of mud still lingers. I imagine it’s twice as painful for those who had to spend Christmas in evacuation centers, away from what once felt normal.

The year also exposed relationships that had quietly turned sour. From old friends to distant family members, even colleagues who were once mentors. It’s true that trials reveal true colors, just like the hit song goes. These relationships have now become cordial and civil, often deliberately avoided in the name of self-preservation. Perhaps peace sometimes comes not from fixing things, but from knowing when to step back.

Despite everything, here we are. Maybe that is what my gratitude cake note would say. Gratitude not for a perfect year, but for endurance and strength. As this chapter closes, I wish you all the best of luck. May we continue to pen pressing issues, even when our hands shake. Here’s to 2026!