A Christmas 11,175 km apart

I’ve lost count of the number of holiday commercials about family that made me tear up these days. The theme is always the same: In spite of this year’s challenges, family means being together. Scrolling through my social media feed, I see friends navigating the challenges of going home for the holidays even as the pandemic shows no signs of ending anytime soon, especially in the Philippines. They ask about quarantine requirements, the forms to fill out, and the restrictions to adhere to. Some will probably break a rule or two, especially when our own government leaders haven’t set a good example for the rest of us. Still, I’m happy for them and their upcoming reunions, because I know well the joy of being with family and the sorrow of being away.

This year is my fourth in Barcelona as a PhD student. However, it is the first that I won’t be with family for the holidays. Every year since 2017, in the weeks leading up to my flight back home, I would be stuffing my luggage with “pasalubong.” I would start messaging friends to meet up. I would look forward to what is usually the highlight of my year. This time, however, it is just a strange void and not knowing what to fill it with. The season of Christmas is underpinned by the values of peace, love, joy, and hope, but they are obscured by the brutality of the pandemic at this time; it is hard to recognize what we are no longer familiar with.

The ill-fated year of 2020 has been marked by so much grief, loss, and trauma. I don’t think I can recall any other year where I felt so pushed to the limit with regard to every single aspect of my life. While I am incredibly lucky enough not to lose a loved one to COVID-19, being unable to escape this looming atmosphere of death is violence in itself. All of us are exhausted. And yet the struggle is nowhere close to being over. I wish it were only a matter of physical distance, but it has been complete isolation, too.How far away am I from my family in Manila? Google tells me it is 11,175 kilometers—a number that makes me feel like I’m worlds away, but is just a tiny fraction of the number of total COVID-19 cases worldwide as of writing, 67 million and counting. Even with the potential reward of seeing my loved ones in person, the idea of traveling during this pandemic terrifies me. Despite companies proclaiming how “safe” their sanitization procedures are in hopes of making up for lost business, none of us truly understands the extent of just how dangerous this virus is—and for that alone, I couldn’t risk it. Not for myself, for those I care about, or for those I might not even know. Managing a crisis like COVID-19 is a collective effort. And although we as individuals have the responsibility in doing our part, it frustrates me how those in power, who hold even greater responsibility, have failed to protect society. Human lives should not be treated as mere collateral damage, and this general attitude of neglect has chipped away at our humanity.

This Christmas, I won’t be coming home like how they do in the commercials. Such sacrifice means I won’t be partaking in our noche buena and unwrapping gifts with family as usual. But I know I’ll spend hours on a video call with them, being both here and there through a tiny screen. The warm embraces will wait for me when it is safe. If that is the hope Christmas brings, then I know peace and joy will follow. The love is always there, even from 11,175 kilometers away.

Nathania Chua, 27, is a PhD student at ESADE Business School, Barcelona.

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