Loneliness Beneath Milan Skies

Dear Lord, the winter fog here in Milan is thick, but it is nothing compared to the fog inside my heart. I sit here in this small, rented room staring at the wall, wondering if these years of sacrifice for my children back in Iloilo were worth the price of my own soul. I clean houses for people who don't see me, just to send money for tuition and the house repairs. My kids speak to me through cold smartphone screens, and sometimes I feel like a ghost in their lives, merely a bank account they call 'Nanay' once a month.

Why does it feel like I am losing them while I try so hard to build their future? I missed my eldest’s graduation, and I’ve missed five years of Christmases. I am tired of eating reheated meals alone, dreaming of the taste of fresh kinilaw and the sound of my family laughing in our garden. Have You forgotten that I am here too, Lord? Or is this silence my reward for choosing the path of an OFW?

I want to go home, but if I do, the cycle of debt continues for my family. I feel trapped between my duty and my desperate need to be a mother again. What do I do now? Do You still hear me when I cry in the dark, or have You closed Your ears to the wails of those of us living in these foreign lands?

A mother who is fading away, Evelyn