This week marks my mother's death anniversary — it has been four years since she left us. If you have ever lost a parent (or both), you will understand when I say that not a day goes by without thinking of them. It really is in the little things: their favorite song streaming in my playlist, a scent that lingers, or a phrase they would always say.

For me, my mother is always in my thoughts when I'm in the kitchen. Before she got sick, the kitchen was, among others, her happy place. It was her domain.

She had her staple recipes for different occasions, but one dish stood out — her kare-kare. She only made it twice a year, and those two dates were non-negotiable: once for my father's birthday and once for hers. Register to read this story and more for free .

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