Leaves: A Reflection on Family, Forgiveness, and Growing Together

I’m learning to play the ukulele at my son’s music school. I can now play 4 songs thanks to my patient teacher. Two weeks ago, I asked my teacher to teach me “Leaves” by Ben&Ben, a popular local band from the Philippines. They’ve been my favorite for 2 years, especially their songs “Leaves” and “Bibingka.”

I never imagined this song would become so deeply tied to the storm our family is facing, its melody quietly unfolding as an unexpected backdrop to the chaos around us. As its notes lingered, I began to see how the lyrics reflected our unspoken emotions, giving shape to the feelings we carried in silence. In moments of uncertainty, its rhythm reminded me that even in difficult seasons, there is a shared strength that holds us together.

Leaves feels deeply familiar, especially when listened to through the lens of family and long-term relationships.

Listen to the official YouTube video of the song here: https://youtu.be/5oxxi0d7AQI?si=5RTJnw0G7t6jyEBZ

In families, love isn’t just made of joyful moments—it’s shaped by misunderstandings, exhaustion, unspoken expectations, and the quiet mistakes we wish we could undo. The song’s question, “Was it worth the try?” echoes those moments when parenting, marriage, or family life feels heavy, when we wonder if we’re doing enough or doing things right.

The image of bare trees eventually growing leaves again resonates strongly with family life. There are seasons at home when patience runs thin, when routines feel overwhelming, and when connection feels distant. But just like nature, families grow in cycles. What feels barren today doesn’t mean it will stay that way. With time, care, and intention, life returns—often stronger than before.

I’m especially moved by how the song acknowledges lingering pain while choosing to stay. In a family, you can’t simply walk away from every hurt. You carry memories—both tender and difficult—through ordinary hours: shared meals, late nights, early mornings. And yet, those shared moments are exactly what make everything worth fighting for.

The line “you never really love someone until you learn to forgive”  feels like the quiet truth behind lasting families. Forgiveness becomes a daily practice—between partners, between parents and children, even toward ourselves. It’s not about erasing mistakes, but about choosing love again and again, even when it’s uncomfortable.

In the end, Leaves reminds me that family love is not static. It weathers storms, sheds old layers, and grows back—slowly, imperfectly, beautifully. Healing doesn’t arrive all at once, but it does arrive. And as long as there is real love and a shared effort to make things right, all will be alright in time.

All will be alright in time.