“Konti na lang. Konti na lang. Please.”

Those were the last words Maria Kristine “KQ” Quimpo’s mother uttered, as she struggled to make it home with her two youngest children in the car. She was willing her body to last just a few more minutes. But it didn’t. That day in the summer of 2001, the heart that loved hardest simply gave out.

KQ was 18, watching a movie when the call came. It was an unknown number, her little sister borrowing a neighbor’s phone. “There was an accident,” the neighbor said. “Your mom is at the hospital.” KQ rushed there, repeating her mother’s name to whoever would listen, looking for someone, anyone, who could tell her where she was. When a doctor finally pulled her aside, all KQ heard was “something something… DOA.”

At that moment, time slowed down. Reality became noise. Her mother was gone.

She was only 45.

KQ’s world changed that day with a quiet and sudden absence. One minute, she had a mother who made time just to sit and talk with relatives. The next, she was sleeping beside a coffin every night, unwilling to leave the last place her mother occupied.

KQ, a Partner at GSE, is a seasoned litigator, arbitrator, and specialist in labor, family, and dispute resolution law. She also co-heads its Immigration Practice Group. But before any of that, she had to grow up faster than she wanted to.

As the eldest of five children (aged 18, 15, 11, 10, and 7 at the time of their mother’s passing), KQ never saw herself as a replacement mom. “We were already independent,” she says. Their household had always been one where you cleaned up after yourself, made your own study schedule, and figured things out.

But the emotional toll? “We never really talked about life without Mom,” she reflects. “We just… adapted. We all just became more independent. I think my dad took on the burden, but quietly. He’s not the showy type. When he tries to be affectionate, it feels heavy-handed. But he was always there.”

“I never not miss her.”

Given the young age KQ was when her mother passed, she was asked where she missed her mom the most throughout her life’s milestones. Her first response was quick,  “I never not miss my mom. I never not think of her.” But there are special moments when she felt her mother’s absence more deeply.

Graduating from law school. “She was the biggest cheerleader, my biggest fan,” KQ says. “She would’ve been so proud. So happy. And I imagine how happy she would’ve been, even if she couldn’t be there.”

The first time she traveled to Europe. “The moment I truly missed her was when I went to Europe the first time because it was her dream. It was her dream before it was mine.” She once told a friend, ‘When you retire, let’s go to Europe.’ For her, it was like winning the lottery. That’s how I viewed it, too, something meant for rich people. I made it my dream because it was hers. I saved and planned for 2-3 years. And when I finally went, I passed by the cemetery before heading to the airport. I said, “This one’s for both of us.”

“My mom was super ‘lakwatsera,’ and I think that if our situation were different back then, she would have wanted to travel a lot, too. It wasn’t in the cards. She had 5 kids. And now, it’s in the back of my head, every time I travel, I think to myself, I would have brought her wherever she wanted. She didn’t get to see me in this part. She would always put the kids first. I think all those experiences she would have wanted. “

Buying a condo. “She bought a small house in the province when we were young, and it wasn’t much, but it was hers. That was her big thing, ‘Whatever happens, make sure you have a roof over your head that no one can take from you.’ So when I got the keys to our place, I thought of her.”

And then there’s Ceia, her partner. “I never came out formally, but my mom had seen some of the girls I dated. One time, after my dad got upset about it, we were driving home and she, all of a sudden, took the long way home. She knew I didn’t want to get home right away. Then, without warning, she parked the car and told me, ‘You’re not hurting anyone. That’s fine.’ Her support and acceptance were simple and total. And that stuck with me. Not just about being gay. About everything. That’s my compass to this day. If I’m not hurting anyone, I’m okay.”

Ceia would always ask, “Do you think your mom would have liked me?  Because from what you’ve told me about her, I think I would have liked her. Every time it’s her birthday, I say thank you to her for you. I wish I had met her.”

KQ always replies: “She would’ve loved you.”

“Definitely, more my mom.”

When asked who she feels she takes after more, her answer is definitive: “Definitely, more my mom. I’m touchy-feely. And because I’m a Cancer, I’m very sensitive emotionally. Which was difficult because we, in the family, are not huggers.”

KQ’s sensitivity extends to her intuition, a skill she unknowingly inherited from her mother’s ability to perceive mood. She adjusts her tone with clients to better match the person across from her: more forceful, authoritative manner to some, more agreeable to others. “The power of communication comes from the way you want to convey your message. You may have a great message, but if the other party is not open to the way you’re delivering it, you won’t get anything through.”

Another of her mom’s characteristics she shares is her ability to bring people together. It’s apparent when she cooks for her siblings or comes together with her family or friends; a quiet echo of her mother’s love language: time and presence.

It also shows up in her work in labor or family law. Reading a room and knowing how to communicate as well as how to bring people together are integral in her work.

“I’m only a few years away from that age now.”

KQ was asked to reflect on what her mother would have said had she gotten to see her in this iteration of her life. KQ paused and pondered her mom’s age.

“My mom died at 45,” KQ says. “And when a friend turned 45 recently, I just stopped. I thought, Wait, that’s the age Mom died. It finally hit me how young that was. I’m only a few years away from that age now.”

That thought haunts her, not in a tragic way, but in a deeply human way. Her mother never got to see what her children became. Never got to travel the world. Never got to see her daughter become a lawyer, a leader, a woman unafraid to love who she loves.

“She didn’t get to this part,” KQ says quietly. But her mom believed in her. Unconditionally. Without needing proof. Without needing milestones. To her, KQ could do no wrong. And that belief became her fuel.

“I think she’d say she’s proud of me,” KQ reflects, “but also, I always knew you could do it.”

“I never not miss my mom,” KQ says. “I never not think of her.”

And maybe that’s what love looks like, too. Not a grand gesture, but a daughter carrying her mother’s dream in her backpack on her journeys. Buying a home with her mother’s values guiding her. Sitting across from a client and knowing how to speak their language because her mother taught her how to truly see people.

And whispering into the silence, wherever she is: “We made it, Ma.”

(Interview and write-up by: Zeus Earl Roy D. Custodio Jr.)