What I Wish My Family Knew. A Migrant Worker’s New Year Letter From the Heart By Muhdina

To my family,

As this new year begins, there are so many words I’ve been carrying quietly in my heart, words I rarely say out loud because I don’t want you to worry. But if I could sit with all of you, just for a moment, this is what I wish you knew.

What I Wish You Knew

Every time I send money home, I’m not just sending numbers. I’m sending my love. I’m sending my gratitude. I’m sending a piece of myself back to you. I wish you knew how thankful I am to be able to provide for your needs. How proud I feel every time I know I can help, even from far away. I wish you knew how happy I am whenever I hear your voices on the phone. How hearing you talk, laugh, and ask me how I am makes the distance feel a little smaller.

I wish you knew how much joy your smiles bring me during our video calls. Every smile you send my way erases the tiredness in my body after long days of work. Those smiles give me strength when my body feels weak.

And when I say, “I’m fine,” I’m not lying, but I’m also not telling you everything. I don’t tell you about the nights I wake up missing Ina’s voice, calling us to wake up early for fajr prayer. I don’t tell you how much I miss Ama’s quiet care, or how much I long for our Maguindanaon food. The flavors that taste like home and comfort.

I miss our family bonding every Friday after Jumu’ah prayer. I miss the feeling of being surrounded by love without needing to explain myself. But I wish you also knew this: I didn’t choose to leave because I wanted to go far away. I chose this life because I wanted you to have the things I never did. The phone my son needs for school, small gifts for my nieces, a roof that doesn’t leak when it rains, and a life where bills don’t steal your peace. I chose this because I love you. And I am deeply grateful that I can provide.

What I Miss Most

I miss the way we would all crowd into our small kitchen during Ramadan. I miss eating together, sharing food, stories, and laughter. I miss Ina’s presence and Ama’s, especially when he was still alive.

I miss being taken care of. I even miss being scolded by Ina. I miss our simple family moments, our trips to the beach every Eid al-Fitr, the laughter, the noise, the endless teasing and shouting at each other. I miss my son more than words can say. I miss our home. But more than anything, I miss Ama. It still breaks my heart knowing I didn’t get to see him in his final days. I didn’t get to hold his hand while he fought for his life. I didn’t get to hug him one last time. I wasn’t there to say sorry for the mistakes I made, or to thank him for being my Ama, my father.

That pain stays with me. Every time I think about it, my heart aches. I wish he were still here to see how our lives have changed. I believe he would be proud of me, of how his pasaway daughter became the woman she is today.

Ama, I am not who I used to be. I am still fighting, even when it’s hard, because that is what you taught me. I hope you are proud of me. I miss you so much.

When I say I miss home, what I really mean is that I miss you.

What I Hope for Us This Year

This year, my biggest hope is for us to be complete again. I pray that I can come home, even if only for a short break or vacation. I just want to see you. I want to visit Ama’s grave and talk to him the way I talk to him in my heart every day. I hope our house will finally be finished, and that we can spend time there together, cooking, eating, laughing, and doing all the simple things I miss so deeply.

I hope this year brings us more blessings and fewer struggles. I know my family is strong. We have faced so much and survived it together. But I pray for lighter days ahead. Less worry. Less pain. More peace. In shaa Allah, this year will be kinder to us. No matter how far I am, please know this, my heart has never left home. It beats with you, always.

With all my love, Muhdina

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