Lost in the Singapore Night

Dear Lord, I am sitting here on the floor of my cramped flat in Geylang, staring at the ceiling and wondering if this sacrifice is actually worth the hollow space in my chest. My hands are shaking as I think about the distance between here and my home in Tuguegarao. I left everything—my aging Tatay, the smell of freshly cooked pinakbet, the sound of the rain against our galvanized iron roof—all to provide a 'better life' here. But what good is a better life if I am losing my own spirit in this concrete city? Every day feels like a blur of overtime and loneliness, and my daughter barely recognizes my voice on the video calls.

Why does it feel like I am running on a treadmill that leads nowhere? I see the other Filipinos in the park on Sundays, laughing and sharing pancit, but I feel like a ghost drifting among them. Have You forgotten me here in this foreign land? I pray, but the words seem to hit the ceiling and bounce back at me. Is it my fault for choosing this path, or is there a reason for this crushing isolation?

I don’t know how to keep going, po. My heart is heavy with the guilt of missing the milestones of my family, and the pride I once felt for being a provider has turned into a dull, aching exhaustion. Please, tell me where You are in this silence. Do You even see me, or am I just another face in the crowd of this city?

A father who is fading away, Elias