grief?

I haven't seen my mom and dad in about a year and four months.
This evening I saw The End of the Spear again as credit for my Acts class. Our professor had us all over for dinner and a movie. My mom knows her, somehow, from way back when, but I don't remember how, and I haven't asked. Watching The End of the Spear triggered so many childhood memories for me: life in a village, being a little white kid with blonde hair playing arm in arm with dark skinned, dark haired village children... being away from any kind of modern conveniences. It was a novelty when one of Aytas became barangay captain, bought a generator for the village, and put one light in every house. Of course he controlled when all the lights were on or off; I don't think anyone had their own personal light switch. I remember mosquito nets hanging from the ceiling of a two bedroom house -- a mansion! -- tucked under the four-inch foam mattresses we used for our beds. We didn't have bed frames, we just had mattresses on the floor. In the left hand corner across from the door to the room where we all slept was a big metal barrel. I think, now, it must have been some kind of water drum that we were using for storage. On top of that barrel was our radio. It was on that radio that we would hear about any outside world communication. It was on that radio that my mom found out about her best friend who had the same name as her. She didn't make it. At that house we planted flowers, marigolds... in yellows, oranges, pinks. Down the hill near our house was a little place in the rocks that water flowed. Behind our house were sometimes caribous, which we would call dumwags. I got to ride in a caribou cart once there. I also got to ride a caribou itself once! But that wasn't in that village. Our house was kind of at the edge of the village. If you traveled beyond it, however, you would eventually reach a river. This was where people and animals bathed, washed clothes, and I think they got drinking water from there, too -- boiled first, I'm sure. I remember when there wasn't a road to Calumpang yet, so we had to park at Clark airbase and walk/wade across the lahar river and hike up the mountain to get into the village. That was such a fun time, though I remember hating the idea of going there for the weekend... but I was always very happy to be there once I was there.
So many memories, so many tears flooding my face.
I'll be going home soon, but just visiting, and I doubt we will visit this particular home of my memories. Even if we did, I heard that a lot has changed since I was 8, the last time I really spent any time there.