Airports have always been a significant part of my life, embodying a complex mix of emotions. My father has been an overseas Filipino worker for as long as I can remember, spending most of his life in the Middle East—in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Qatar. While my mom, sister, and I remained in the Philippines, our family moments with my dad were mostly confined to his annual visits, usually in March.
The airport became the happiest place when he arrived and the saddest when he left. His departures marked the start of another stretch of lonely days, a cycle of happy moments turning into dreadful waits. My dad missed many milestones: birthdays, recognition days, anniversaries with my mom, and various award ceremonies. My childhood was shaped by a constant effort to make him proud, hoping he could return home sooner.
Despite the distance, my dad never failed to provide for us. My mom took on the dual role of both parents, but my dad was always present in spirit. Initially, he connected with us through voice tapes and snail mail, then through emails as technology advanced. Eventually, Blackberry phones, Skype, and other video apps allowed us to see each other more frequently, if only through screens.
Now, as an adult, the roles have reversed. I work in the UAE, and my dad, now 70, recently visited me. Despite his age, he has managed to tour Europe, play tennis, and continue his architectural work in the Philippines. He's far from retiring, always staying active and engaged.
He will be with me until July 5, but sadly, he won't be here for my birthday on the 7th. This thought saddens me, but I'm determined to make the most of the time we have together. As the day of his departure approaches, I feel a familiar sense of anxiety. Knowing he will be back in the Philippines on Friday fills me with dread, echoing the same emotions I felt as a child when he left for work. Airports, moments, and time itself are precious. I wish it weren't so hard, and that he didn't have to leave. But his sacrifices were for the best, and I owe so much to both my parents.
This love-hate relationship with airports has shaped my understanding of family, sacrifice, and the bittersweet nature of life. Each farewell at the airport is a reminder of the love that binds us, despite the miles and the years apart.
