Family, Everything

Labuan Bajo, September 30, 2026 — This night, I want to share something a bit more personal about family.

About where I come from, the values ​​that shaped me, the home that always offers a place to return to, and what it feels like to lose the people we love.
To me, family means more than anything else in the world.

Long before we were even born, family was already part of our life’s journey. They prepared us for our arrival in this world, raised us, taught us life’s values, and gradually let us go to walk on our own two feet.
And when, one day, they are gone, we finally come to truly understand just how much their presence meant all along.

Where I Come From

I was raised by my mother’s side of the family.

My mother is Balinese. From her, I learned a great deal about values, wisdom, attitudes, and how one ought to prepare for adulthood.

Two things stand out most in my memory from her teachings: hard work and honesty.

I vividly recall a phrase she often repeated:

“Never ask for help as long as you are still capable of doing the work or handling the task yourself.”

That simple sentence turned out to have a profound influence on my life.

Perhaps that is why I grew up striving to be tough and independent, avoiding reliance on others whenever possible. It is not that we do not need other people, but there is a unique sense of satisfaction in being able to accomplish something through one’s own efforts.

Pekak—the term we use for “grandfather” in our family—also left behind many lessons whose meanings I am only now beginning to grasp.

He may never have explained the concept of Stoicism to me. Yet, when I look back on his words and demeanor, I realize he had been teaching me about accepting circumstances, letting go, and finding peace with things—long before I even knew the names for those concepts.

One phrase I remember most clearly is:

“Mau mi diapa.”

In the Bugis dialect, this roughly translates to, “What else can be done?” or “It is what it is.”
I used to view it as nothing more than a casual expression.

But now, I see it differently.

There are situations in life that simply cannot be changed. There are events that have already occurred and cannot be undone. At a certain point, all we can do is accept the situation, learn from it, and move forward.

Perhaps that is the simple form of acceptance—of sincere—that Pekak taught me.

My family and I grew up in South Sulawesi, specifically in North Luwu Regency.

Although we lived in Sulawesi, the environment in which we were raised was quite diverse. There were families and communities from various backgrounds—Bugis, Javanese, Torajan, Balinese, and Flores—along with numerous inter-ethnic marriages that made our own family even more diverse. To me, diversity is not something up for debate.

It is part of the story of who we are.

Our family homes in Sulawesi were close to one another; the houses of my parents, my uncles, and my grandfather were not far apart.

Whenever there was a family gathering, a religious service, or simply a special occasion, we would visit each other.

And perhaps, without my realizing it, those nearby homes taught me one important lesson:
family is not just about blood ties, but about presence.

About who is there when we are in need.
About who shows up when there is joy.
And about who stays when life isn’t going well.

When Facing Loss

We were very close.

For me, as a person of faith, that closeness was perhaps second only to my closeness with God.

That is why, when a loved one departs for Eternal Peace with the Creator of the Universe, it feels as though a part of our own lives changes along with them.

Grandpa passed away in 2009.I was a first-year high school student at the time.
I remember vividly how the news reached me.

I was cleaning the grounds of the Makale Catholic High School boys’ dormitory when the priest in charge called me over.
He said,
“Your Grandpa has passed away.”

The words were simple.
But for me, it felt as if the world stood still for a moment.
I wept uncontrollably.

As his first grandson, I shared so many memories with him—little things I still recall to this day.

And as I’ve grown older, I’ve increasingly felt that a part of me is growing to resemble him.
I am drawn to matters concerning nature and conservation.
I also love boxing and martial arts.
Even some of my jokes sometimes feel just like his.
Hehe.

Perhaps that is simply how someone lives on within us.

Not just through photographs or stories, but through habits, character, ways of thinking, and even the small things we do unconsciously.

And this year, 2026, our family has lost someone else.

Gede Kris, our younger brother, has passed away.

His father was from Ende Lio, and his mother was Balinese. He grew up with us until the fourth grade of elementary school before continuing his junior and senior high school education in Beteleme, Central Sulawesi.

This loss reminds me once again that life never truly offers certainty about how long someone will remain by our side.

There are people we assume will always be there. There are people we assume we will meet again.

People we can still joke with.
People we can still share stories with.
People we can still gather around the same table with.
Until, eventually, we realize that the last meeting was truly the last.
The pain is hard to describe.
Hard to put into words.
Even just remembering it makes my chest feel tight.
Perhaps not all sorrow needs to be explained.
There are sorrows meant only to be felt.
There are losses that need not be translated into sentences.
And there are people we will always miss, even as time moves on.

On Coming Home

To me, family is where we learn what it means to be human.
It is the first place where we learn about affection, responsibility, hard work, honesty, courage, and sincerity.

I also understand that love does not necessarily end when someone leaves.

I believe that Pekak and Gede Kris are now resting in that peace.I also believe—in accordance with our faith—that they continue to pray for those of us still journeying through this world.

Perhaps that is what makes the loss a little easier to bear.

Not because the pain has vanished,

But because we believe that love does not cease simply because of death.

Family is More than Anything

The further I journey through life, the more I realize that many of the things we chase are not true wealth.

Jobs.
Careers.
Money.
Achievements.
Recognition.

They all have their place and importance.

But ultimately, when life brings us back to the essentials, we seek the same thing:
home.

We seek the people who love us.
We seek familiar voices.
We seek the dining table where we once sat together.
We seek the old stories we once laughed over.

And perhaps that is why, to me, having a loving family is the true definition of wealth.
We may not be able to choose the family into which we are born.
But we can choose how to carry forward the values ​​they instilled in us.

We can choose to carry on that hard work.

That honesty.
That courage to be independent.
That ability to accept life as it is.
And most importantly, to pass that love on to the generations that follow.

Because in the end, a family’s greatest legacy is not the house, the land, the money, or the material possessions left behind.

It is the values ​​and the love that live on within those who remain.

And as long as we carry those values ​​and that love, they never truly leave us.

They live on.
In the way we think.
In the way we treat others.
In our little habits.
In our prayers.
And in the stories we will one day share with the generations to come.
Family is everything.

— Engel Vione