Christmas is the season for family. It is the time of the year where most of us get to reconnect with family members and close friends whom we now consider like our own siblings. Whether it is through a typical Filipino family reunion or simply by enjoying a simple dish—nothing compares to spending the holidays with your family.
But what if your family is incomplete on Christmas? Does Christmas still feel the same?
When I was younger, my dad went abroad to work. At a young age I didn’t know how things were bound to go. Half of the time, I didn’t completely understand the situation at hand. It was all a blur.
A train of questions popped into my head: How will I be able to talk to my dad? Will he notice how much I’ve changed? Will he be home for our birthdays? Their anniversary? For Christmas?
I had no answers to these questions. Instead, I had to find a way to fill in the emptiness that took dad’s place. I thought to myself, maybe the Philippines was the only country on Earth. Maybe every other country was located in another planet.

I made myself believe that airplanes took you to outer space. That traveling would take you to a far-off adventure at the end of the galaxy. So whenever my dad would go back to the Middle East, I would just think that he’s somewhere in the stars working.
Most of the time, dad was not home for Christmas. At a young age, I wasn’t able to grasp the emptiness nor did I feel a sense of sadness because I did not completely understand the absence my dad left at home. I thought of Christmas as just a season for our family to exchange gifts and feast on our favorite dishes. Dad also made his presence felt through the gifts he gave. Together, my parents granted most of the things on our wish lists—Barbie dolls, game consoles, brand new clothes and shoes.
Being young and foolish, I thought that these material things made up for my dad’s absence. Even though I didn’t completely feel and understand what exactly absence was.
Eventually my dad had to go back to the Philippines for unfortunate reasons. We were finally spending Christmas with a complete set of plates on the table. The celebration was far more simple, but more importantly, it felt complete. There were no grand gifts—no more branded shoes nor Barbie dolls. But our dad was there, and our family felt whole again.
By the time when I was 16, life in the Philippines had become unbearable—there were unending price hikes, and the unforgiving economy gave less and less opportunities to Filipinos.
I was about to enter college when my dad had to work in the Middle East again. This time, I was old enough to finally understand why he won’t always be with us and why he had to leave. That we’ll be back to having series of long distance phone calls and messages instead of seeing each other face to face. Celebrating birthdays will not be the same. But most all, he won’t end the year by spending Christmas with us.
But nothing really changed about Christmas. We spent Christmas the way it is—there were family reunions, exchanging of gifts, and singing a bunch of holiday songs. Christmas was still Christmas. While most of my family members were there to make you feel the spirit of the holidays, there was still a feeling of emptiness within me as I spent my Christmas without my father. Though we would greet each other a “Merry Christmas” and tell him how our parties were— there is still a void which cannot be filled with grand gifts or celebrations.
I know I’m not alone. A million other girls and boys growing up feeling the exact same way. For Filipino families, it’s common to have a parent abroad. Not having a parent around during Christmas may be the worst thing there is. While the whole world celebrates, you are spending most of your holidays thinking about them wherever they may be. But this shared reality doesn’t lessen just how much we long for our families to be complete, especially during the holiday season.
My dad may be not here every Christmas season, but I am always thankful for what he has done and given me and my family. After all, working in the stars is not easy.