Yup, that long. As if it was only yesterday when the idea of joining the increasing number of Filipino expats all over the world popped into my head just 3 months after giving birth to my son. And then another 18 months after that, I hopped on a plane bound for Canada. February 11, 2010, touchdown!
It wasn't easy. It's never easy. Whether you're fending for yourself, you're head of the family, or a parent who worries so much about raising a family in a financially ill country like ours, the idea is always twinned with a lot of uphill battles both physically and emotionally. It's not always that bad. We're lucky nowadays that our loved ones is just one click or tap away. It gets better every day anyway. For me, it started getting better halfway through my first year here.
Two weeks before "D" day, I was already off work and devoted quality time with my son. It'll be a dragging 2 years, I thought, so I dosed myself with Theo's smile, laugh, smell, tantrums, but never be enough, of course. Then the time has come. I left when Theo was just 22 months old. For a child that age, saying goodbye is just like one of the routine goodbyes and then I could go run some errands or leave for work. But for me, it was the hardest goodbye I have ever said in my entire life. My mom is used to taking my dad to the airport so she knows the whats and wheres in the departure area. She reminded me time and again, ever since I got my visa, tickets, and flight details, to never look back once we have said our goodbyes. I never doubted that I would be crying an ocean for leaving him behind, but I underestimated his feelings understanding of what was going on that night. I went in at around 10 pm (my flight was at 12:30 am) and kisses and goodbyes to last me 2 years were sealed and given. Theo should probably be sleepy by then but for some reason, maybe the tie that binds us both, he was awake the whole time and as I was pushing my luggage cart, one voice stood out amid the platoon of people in my direction and it was him crying "mama". I swear to God, I was all ready to turn around and just go back out and hug him tight. I pushed that thought behind my mind, but it was breaking my heart into tiny pieces at the same time. I didn't look back, just like what my mom told me. My thoughts of sadness and confusion were suddenly transitioned to anxiety with all the security and check-in issues I had to go through. I called my parents to let them know we're boarding in 10 minutes and asked how was Theo and I was relieved to find out that he was already asleep.
Nineteen long hours and 13,000 kilometers later, I made it. Quite the way I expected it, cold at just -5 degrees. The family who took me in made my first few weeks as comfortable and informative as possible. My eyes were overwhelmed by the enormous difference between Canada and Philippines that my lungs could actually shout the same. Traffic is forgivable. No eye-sore litters I can see. You're free to be yourself without judging and mocking eyes looking at you.
Here I am, 622 days later and 13,000 kilometers away from my son. Ask me if it's all worth it? It will never be. Ask me again what the hell am I doing here then? For one undefeated, reigning reason all OFWs would give you: I'm just one of the many Pinoys who wishes for a better life and turn of fate for good. I can only say it's worth the sacrifice if my son and I both have our permanent residency granted. For now, I'm making every second worthwhile. That's the least I can think of.
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