The Florida Everglades stretched out as far as our eyes could see. An occasional alligator clandestinely surfaced along the shore as our airboat skimmed the water surface. It was 6 p.m. but the sun was still high up, warming our faces. This was a special occasion—a rare instance that our family was complete.
I come from a family of migrant workers from the Philippines. My mother was a nurse who joined the Filipino diaspora
to the United States along with our father and my siblings. Being above 18 at the time my parents migrated, I had to remain in the Philippines.
As I wrote in “Katas ng Saudi,” my first essay in Inquirer Opinion’s Young Blood column, things took a turn for the worse after their migration to the United States. Eventually our parents separated and our mother passed away just three years after they migrated, followed by our father’s passing two years later.
As orphans, my siblings and I did our best to move on with our lives. My youngest brother Ted was stationed in Afghanistan serving the US Navy, Tyrone was a working student in Louisiana, and I was at the time a freshman medical student on scholarship. However, the trials were not over because in 2012 our grandmother succumbed to breast cancer, and a year later Supertyphoon “Yolanda” came close to destroying our home in Tacloban.
In 2015, things started looking up: I graduated among the Top 6 in our class, and was admitted for internship at Philippine General Hospital (PGH), Tyrone graduated from a tertiary institution in Louisiana and moved to Silicon Valley for work, and Ted was studying full-time at Jacksonville University in Florida.
One day I found myself in line at the US Embassy on Roxas Boulevard where I gambled $160 hoping to get a visa to be able to attend Ted’s graduation in Jacksonville. As I was facing the consul through a thick glass partition, I forced myself a smile. The woman was impassive as she asked me a series of questions as my heart pounded. She had the power to grant or deny me a chance to be with my brothers during an important milestone in our family.
Shortly she said: “You are granted a visa of 10 years multiple entry to the United States.”
It was all I could do to keep from doing cartwheels on the embassy floor. I gave her a polite nod and made my way home to call my brothers and break the news to them.
A year later, I was sitting on a bench at the airport when something caught my eye: It was a suitcase with a floral cover which looked like what my late mother had. I knew then it was her way of telling me that she was always with me. I remembered the happy days when our parents were still together and our father used to say he would love to travel cross-country in the United States. Sadly, it never came to be.
The next 10 days were pure bliss. The three of us brothers were finally together, and we spent those days travelling. We went to see Kennedy Space Center and Universal Studios in Orlando, walked the sandy shores of Jacksonville beach, saw race cars in Daytona, and spent a day with a thrilling airboat ride in the Everglades. The times I spent with my brothers brought back memories of our childhood, when we were growing up together.
As Ted went up the stage to receive his nursing diploma (cum laude) and accept his commissioning as a US Navy officer, I could not help but tear up. It was not only his proudest moment but also the fulfillment of our parents’ dreams.
My vacation leave from PGH has ended, and it is back to reality for me. As I stood in front of the Philippine flag at the atrium during the ceremony, I felt the morning sun warming my cheek. It reminded me of Florida’s long summer, of our bond as brothers, and our childhood memories long lost, but now rediscovered.
Thaddeus C. Hinunangan wrote “Katas ng Saudi” for Young Blood when he was an incoming freshman at Remedios Trinidad Romualdez Medical Foundation College of Medicine in Tacloban City. He is now a resident physician in pathology at Philippine General Hospital.