Mother who lost son to Yolanda finds hope after encounter with Pope Francis

TACLOBAN CITY —Jenita Aguilar remembers squeezing her way into the thick crowd to catch a glimpse of Pope Francis, who came to their typhoon-ravaged city in 2015.

She was simply enthused to see what the highest leader of the Catholic Church looks like. But something astonishing happened as the pope passed by.

He didn't speak to her.  He didn't even know her.  But in that fleeting moment, with the rain falling and grief hanging heavy in the air, Pope Francis reached out a hand, and Jenita felt the power of his simple touch that would change her life.

“Hinawakan ko siya. Hindi ko alam, pero parang... hindi mo akalain ‘yung makita mo siya ng personal. Nahawakan ko pa nga siya e,” shared the 53-year-old mother in a sit-down interview with GMA News Online.

“Tapos, parang bliness niya kami. Kami lahat. Nag-smile siya,” she added.

The Pope's visit came over a year after Super Typhoon Yolanda whipped through the city's coastal communities —claiming lives, destroying homes and livelihoods, and leaving survivors like Jenita searching for answers.

But her story did not begin with her encounter with Pope Francis.  It started with water.

“Nawala ko ‘yung isa kong anak," she said.

O

n November 8, 2013, when Yolanda made landfall, Jenita was living in a small house made of wood and galvanized iron in San Jose, a coastal barangay in Tacloban. Her partner had gone out early to find food. Jenita was left with her two children.

They had heard warnings. But there had been warnings before, thus she thought it was just another harmless alarm.

“Ipinagdasal ko lang na huwag masyadong malakas, pero pagdilat ko, baha na. Mabilis. Wala na akong magawa,” she recalled.

Jenita, along with her partner Grefiel and their children, sought shelter on the unfinished rooftop of a store when the storm surge hit.

The floodwaters rose so quickly that they had no time to react. Her seven-year-old son, Rujin, was in the arms of his uncle. But the waves were merciless.

“Nabitawan. Tinangay ng tubig,” she said.

They searched everywhere, but he was gone. They could not even find his body.

“Hindi ko alam ang gagawin ko. Parang mababaliw ka na lang. Parang hindi ka makahinga. Ang sakit, sobra,” Jenita said, tears welling in her eyes.

In the days that followed, the family tried to survive. They stayed in makeshift shelters—spaces without comfort or privacy.

“Mainit. Maraming daga,” Jenita recalled. She carried the weight of grief, holding onto the faintest hope that her son would be found.

Weeks passed. Then months. And slowly, reality began to settle in. She stopped going to church. She stopped praying.

“Nagtatampo ako sa Diyos. Parang nagtanim ako ng galit. Hindi ako active sa simbahan,” she said, a confession filled with guilt and honesty.

In those early days, faith was hard to find.

“Kasi nawalan ako ng anak. Hindi ko alam bakit. Parang nagtanong ba ako ng, ‘Bakit naman? Bakit ako?’”

A year later, word spread that Pope Francis would be visiting.

“Gusto ko siyang pasalamatan. Hindi niya alam, binuhay niya ako ulit,” Jenita said. (Photo by Sherylin Untalan)

T

hat day, Tacloban was once again drenched in rain. The Mass at the airport was cut short. 

Jenita had a small store in front of her house. That’s where she saw him.

“Masaya… nakakatindig balahibo ‘nong time na ‘yon. Parang kinarga lahat ng sakit. Parang biglang gumaan."

That encounter didn’t bring her son back, but it stirred something long buried: peace.

“Parang ginawa siya na siguro instrument po, maging daan na, siguro para bumalik kami sa Panginoon, bumalik ako sa Panginoon. (Paalala) na 'wag akong maging ano, galit sa Diyos, ganun.”

In the years that followed, Jenita and her family were given a permanent home in a resettlement that was named Pope Francis Village. It was one of the several resettlement sites established with the help of SM Cares and Catholic Relief Services.

The community was named in honor of the Pope’s visit, and it became not just a shelter—but of renewal.

“Dito kami binigyan ng bahay. Maluwag. Maaliwalas. Hindi na kami natatakot kapag umuulan,” Jenita said.

Here, too, Jenita and her partner decided to get married after 20 years of living together. It was a simple ceremony, but to her, it felt like divine timing.

“Biniyayaan kami ng kasal, ni Pope Francis. Libre lahat. Dito sa village,” she said, noting that church staff organized a Kasalang Bayan for Yolanda victims, inspired by the Pope’s initiative.

The church provided everything for every couple: from wedding rings, outfits, reception, and more. All that to make them feel loved on their wedding day.

For Jenita, Pope Francis was more than a religious figure. He was a symbol of light in her darkest night.

“Gusto ko siyang pasalamatan. Hindi niya alam, binuhay niya ako ulit,” she said.

This week, Jenita was once again met with a piece of sad news: Pope Francis had passed.

“Naiyak nga ako noong gabing nakita ko sa Facebook. Naiyak ako na wala na si Pope... e parang naging bahagi na siya ng buhay namin,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

“Hanggang ngayon… humihingi ako ng gabay sa kaniya sa oras na nahihirapan kami, sa lahat ng struggle sa buhay.”

She keeps replaying that day in her mind—the Pope’s eyes, his outstretched hand, the feeling of calm that washed over her.

Today, she shares her story with her children and neighbors not to boast, but to remind them that miracles don’t always come in grand gestures. Sometimes, they come in silence, in the rain, in a single touch.

Jenita has rebuilt her life, one day at a time.

Her daughter, Junko Jenry Elizabeth Aguilar—who was just 11 years old when Yolanda struck—is now thriving as a college student in a local university in Tacloban.

“Parang anghel ‘yung nakita ko noong panahon na ‘yun. Nakamano ako sa kamay niya… may singsing siya dito. ‘Yun ang naalala ko,” Junko shared.

She, too, was saddened by the Pope’s passing. That, and her memory of her younger brother, will remain in her heart.

And though the wound of Rujin’s loss will never completely heal, Jenita and her family now live with a quiet kind of hope.

After losing her son during super typhoon Yolanda, Jenita has rebuilt her life, one day at a time. (Photo by Sherylin Untalan)

T

o her, Pope Francis made an impact far beyond that single moment. He became a symbol of compassion in a time of despair, and his presence reminded her that she was not forgotten.

“Malaki ang naging bahagi niya sa buhay namin. Hindi lang dahil sa bahay, kundi dahil sa dasal na nadama ko mula sa kanya. Parang mapagkumbaba siyang tao. Hindi mo makikilala kung sino siya, tumutulong siya sa mga mahihirap. Simpleng pamilya lang kami. Hindi mo expect na mabibigyan niya kami ng halaga.”

Now, with his passing, Jenita also has a message for the next leader of the Catholic Church.

“Sana ituloy nila ang mga ginawa ni Pope Francis. Sana abutin nila ang mga tulad naming nawalan at iniwan,” she said.

And for Jenita Aguilar, that hand—Pope Francis’ hand—was more than enough.

In the most ordinary of places, in the most extraordinary storm, Jenita found faith again. Not in the answers, but in the questions.

Not in the miracle of rescue, but in the miracle of peace.

A peace she carries every day, as she walks the paths of Pope Francis Village, where her story, her grief, and her healing continue to bloom. —LDF/NB, GMA Integrated News