Longing For Home In Milan

Dear Lord, the winter in Milan is biting, but it is the coldness in my heart that scares me more. I have been here for six years working as a caregiver, and lately, the silence of this empty apartment at night feels like it is suffocating my soul. My hands are rough from cleaning and chores, far from the life I once knew in Iloilo where my Nanay would brew native chocolate for me every morning. Sometimes I look at the screen of my phone, waiting for a video call that feels more like a performance than a real connection, just to show them I am okay while I am crumbling inside.

Why did I choose this path? I wanted to give my family a better life, to build a concrete house to replace our old nipa hut, but the cost feels higher every year. I am missing my own children grow up, watching their milestones through a distorted camera lens. Have You forgotten me in this foreign land? Sometimes I walk past the Duomo and feel like a ghost, invisible and lost, wondering if all this sacrifice will ever truly mean something or if I am just throwing my youth into a bottomless well.

What do I do when the homesickness starts to feel like a permanent sickness? I am tired of being strong for everyone back home, hiding my tears behind 'po' and 'opo' when they ask if I have enough savings. I feel so disconnected from Your grace lately, God. Are You still listening to a daughter who is only remembered when it is time for the next remittance? Your lonely daughter, Elena