Airports are among the saddest places in the world. I totally get the pain of the family in a movie scene where one of them is seen walking away from the group, pulling heavy luggage, while disappearing into a sea of extras dressed to appear like a busy crowd.
The first time I was in an airport was the day my mother had to leave us. I cannot recall if I cried back then, or if I even understood what was going on. But I do remember having to hold on to a relative’s hand and to just stand there and watch her enter the bustling terminal. It was my mom’s first time to go abroad, let alone to ride a plane. Her feet must have been heavy. The reality of having to leave her kids for a long time must have made every pull of her maleta heavy.
My father had to be both the mom and dad in the household. He made it a point to ensure that all our needs were still met one way or another, even if it meant having to give up some of his pastimes. Thanks to him, I was able to enter the pilot section the next grade after having been placed in the last section the previous year. He checked each of my notebooks to see if there was homework due the next day. But this setup, as valued and valuable as it was, only lasted for some time. My siblings and I were getting older, and our expenses were correspondingly getting bigger. He soon joined my mom overseas and left us in the care of my aunt. Oddly enough, I can’t remember now whether we went to Naia with him for his flight.
It was only just before my siblings and I turned 18 that my parents decided to have a long overdue family reunion. We traveled to Venice, and all the way down to Rome, where we saw the giant Colosseum. The whole trip was rushed because they could not be absent from work for long, even during the holidays. Writing this now, I remember the time I tagged along with my dad as he cleaned an entire floor of the three-story residence he worked in. He mopped the floor and I vacuumed the huge sofa.
Of course, my siblings and I had to take the flight back to Manila weeks later. And that was when I really felt the pain my parents always left unsaid. My mom couldn’t leave her work, so it was only my dad who accompanied us to the airport. When we already had our bags checked and it was time for my dad to go, I knew there was no holding back my tears anymore. We had done these hugs and kisses so many times already that I thought, at 16, I was already used to it. That I could hold my emotions inside during these goodbyes and be as strong as my parents, too. But I was wrong. It felt many galaxies different to be on the opposite side of the hug. To be the one staying inside the terminal. To be the one having to board the plane weeping. That’s why I dislike being in an airport so much.
My dad used to say in our family group chat that his kids would go to renowned universities in the country someday. It took a long time, but with sufficient luck and hard work on all our parts, we all did manage to do so. I was even lucky to secure a slot in a public college, erasing one item in our long list of loans and tuition yet to be settled.
After such debts are resolved and three college diplomas are finally hanging in our home one day, my mom says they’d be back here for good and have their own place where they can start a farm or even raise pigs. My dad even hints of wanting to have a big pickup truck that he can use to transport crops from the farm to the places my siblings and I would have in the future. Surely, these are big dreams for a family that has lots of bills to pay. It will take a long time to achieve yet another list of ambitions, and this ongoing pandemic isn’t helping. Still, my parents are not letting go of their dreams, and are simply pushing on.
Airports remind me of the conditions that piloted our lives this way. They are cold reminders of the sacrifices my parents have had to make for our household to get by. But life has been forgiving to us in more ways than one, even during these times. And this is enough reason for me to hope that a day would come when tears won’t have to be shed in the terminal anymore, and goodbye hugs would no longer be necessary. Wala nang ihahatid, susunduin na lang.
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Michael Arturo, 19, is an undergraduate student at a state university in Laguna.