The Graduation I Will Miss: A Letter from an OFW Parent

As an Overseas Filipino Worker (OFW), I left the Philippines not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I made the difficult decision to leave my home and my family, especially my daughter, to give her a better future. Every day I spend away from her is a sacrifice I carry in my heart.

Now, my daughter is about to graduate from senior high school. It should be one of the happiest moments in our lives. It is a time of celebration, of joy, of pride. But instead, I feel a deep sadness. Because I will not be there to witness her walk across the stage. I will not be there to take pictures, to clap proudly, or to hug her tightly and say, “Anak, I’m so proud of you.”

I will miss her graduation.

Just writing those words breaks my heart.

I Remember the Little Things

I remember the first time I left. She was still small, holding tightly to my shirt, tears in her eyes. I had to be strong. I smiled, told her I’d be back, and promised her that everything I was doing was for her. Every time I came home for a short vacation, I tried to make up for all the lost time. I made sure she felt my love, even in those few days.

But now, the years have passed so quickly. She has grown into a young lady, smart and strong. And here I am, still far away, working hard in a foreign land, missing another milestone in her life.

The Pain of Distance

Many people think that working abroad is a blessing—and it is, in many ways. We earn more, we provide for our families, we help pay for school, food, and other needs. But they don’t see the pain that comes with it.

They don’t see the nights I cry in silence, wishing I could be home even for just one day. They don’t see how my heart breaks every time I miss birthdays, Christmases, and now—graduation.

Being far away during this important time in my daughter’s life is one of the hardest things I’ve had to accept. As a parent, all I want is to be there, to support her, to cheer her on. But because of work, because of responsibility, I have to stay here.

To My Daughter

Anak, if you are reading this, please know how proud I am of you. Even if I am not there beside you on your graduation day, my heart is with you. I wish I could hold your hand, fix your hair, and whisper, “You made it.” You have worked so hard, and I have seen your sacrifices too. You stayed strong even when I was far away. You understood why I had to leave, and you never made me feel guilty for it.

You are my strength and my reason for waking up every day and going to work, even when I am tired and lonely.

Please forgive me for not being there. I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to. But circumstances did not allow it. I hope you understand.

To Other OFW Parents

To other OFW parents like me who have missed special moments in their children’s lives, I see you. I feel your pain. We are doing this not for ourselves, but for the people we love the most. We may not always be physically present, but our love never leaves them.

There are many things money can’t buy—like time, presence, and memories. And that is the price we pay as OFWs. But let us not forget, our children understand more than we think. They know we love them, even from miles away.

Someday, I Will Be There

This graduation, I will watch through photos. I will cry alone in my room. I will pray and thank God for guiding my daughter all these years. I will whisper my congratulations from afar. And I will remind myself that someday, I will be there.

Someday, I will not miss another special moment. Someday, we will be together—not just through video calls and messages—but in person. And when that day comes, I will hug her tightly and tell her how proud I’ve always been.

Until then, I will continue to work, to dream, and to hope. For her. For us.

A Message of Love

To my daughter, and to all children of OFWs—thank you for understanding. Thank you for being strong. Thank you for making every tear worth it. We love you more than words can ever express.

And to my daughter, on your graduation day: I may not be in the crowd, but I am with you—in spirit, in heart, in love.

Congratulations, anak. You did it. And I am the proudest parent in the world.