When Michelle moved to Singapore to work as an IT professional, she thought of love as something static. One that is rooted in boodle fights, pasalubong-packed reunions and balikbayan boxes But over the years, she learned that love stretches. It reshapes. It finds new bridges.
She left her son back home in Pasig City under her grandma’s care. Their phone calls were filled with laughter and fragments. Tagalog phrases nestled between English slang. At first, she felt she was losing something. But slowly, she began to see it differently. This wasn’t erasure. It was adaptation.
Across the globe, Filipinos are entwined in relationships where culture isn’t one language or one tradition, like a mosaic.
A mother teaches her child to sing an OPM, even as they binge-watch Chinese dramas. A father records bedtime stories in Taglish for kids who dream in English but feel in Filipino.
Love and connection hopes to survive in these brief intersections.
OFWs know this deeply. They carry not just financial burdens, but emotional cargo. You know, the longing to be understood, the guilt of missing milestones, the hope of staying close, the feeling of becoming a stranger every time you go back after years of staying abroad.
Sometimes, that love shows up in unexpected places. It could be a shared playlist of OPM and BTS, or a Facebook messenger call where lola insists on speaking in Tagalog while her apo giggles in Italian.
Bridges of love aren’t perfect. But they’re powerful.
So, to every OFW and every family member holding space across the ocean, your love is more than enough. It doesn’t need to look traditional to be true. Keep building those bridges. One call. One story. One moment that says, kahit malayo ka man, tayo pa rin…hanggang sa muli.
About the Author
